The Rival Crusoes

by William Henry Giles Kingston

It must not be supposed that Lord Reginald fancied that he was acting in a revengeful spirit towards Richard Hargrave. He considered that he had formed a correct opinion of Dick, whom he looked upon as a daring young ruffian, and that Captain Moubray had acted unwisely in not punishing him for deserting the ship. He ventured, even, after introducing the subject of desertion, to express his opinion of Richard Hargrave, Ben Rudall, and other men of extremely doubtful characters whom he classed together. “They come from my part of the country,” he observed, “and are all smugglers to the backbone, ready for any sort of outrage. At one time my father lived in dread of having his house burnt down by them, so fearful were the threats of vengeance they uttered in consequence of his determination of putting a stop to their illegal practices. That young Hargrave was a poacher as well as a smuggler, and nothing but strict discipline can keep him in order.”

The captain bit his lip, for he could not fail to see at what the third lieutenant was driving. “They cannot poach or smuggle here, and the daring and hardihood they have exhibited in their illegal calling may be turned to good account,” he answered. “They are the fellows to send on any dangerous or difficult undertaking, and we may feel very sure that they will not show the white feather.”

“Young Hargrave is a desperate ruffian, notwithstanding, and I wouldn’t trust him,” muttered Lord Reginald.

“He has shown his ruffianism by acting very gallantly on two occasions, I understand,” observed the captain. “I wish we had a couple of hundred young fellows on board of the same description. After a few months’ training they become prime seamen, and will fight their guns to the last.”

Under ordinary circumstances, during a long voyage, time would have hung heavily on the hands of the officers, but with a large convoy to look to, there was plenty to do at all hours of the day and night. Not only had the merchantmen to be watched, but a bright look-out had to be kept for strange sails, especially for any daring privateers, who, tempted with the prospect of obtaining a rich booty, might pounce down on some unfortunate trader during a dark night and carry her off. This had actually been done on several occasions, and Captain Moubray endeavoured to impress upon the masters of the vessels under his charge the importance of sailing in due order together, and keeping a strict watch at night. The convoy hove to off Saint Helena, to obtain fresh provisions and water. The line was passed without any enemy having been encountered, when, falling in with the south-east trade wind, they got well to the southward, after which with a fair breeze they stood to the eastward on their passage round the Cape of Good Hope. It was considered advisable not to put into Table Bay, to avoid the risk of information being given to the enemy of their whereabouts. Unusually fine weather had hitherto been enjoyed, and the ships keeping well together at length entered the Indian Ocean.

Although the masters of the merchantmen generally strictly obeyed orders, there were one or two who caused more trouble than all the others put together, by sometimes carrying too much sail and getting ahead of the convoy, sometimes too little and lagging astern, knowing that they could always regain their position. This occurred especially at night, when the skippers, wishing to save their crews the trouble of making sail, would wait until daylight to do so.

One evening a strange sail had been seen to the northward, and Captain Moubray had ordered the Ione to go in chase and ascertain her character, while he shortened sail so as to bring the Wolf on the weather quarter of most of the ships. At dark the Ione had not returned, though Captain Moubray ordered a look-out to be kept for her, expecting every moment to see her signal. At the same time, of course, a constant watch was kept on the various vessels of the convoy, which could be seen like so many dark shadows gliding over the ocean to leeward, each carrying a light to show its position.

It was blowing a fresh breeze from the north-west, but there was not much sea on. The captain frequently came on deck, inquiring whether the Ione had yet shown her number. The same answer had been returned that no light had been seen to windward. He was pacing the quarter-deck with his night-glass in his hand, when the sound of a gun, which seemed to come up far away from the southward, reached his ears.

“What can that be?” he asked of the first lieutenant, who just then joined him.

“That’s more than I can positively say,” answered Mr Curling. “It must be a signal from one of the convoy, something must have happened to her, and she wishes to draw our attention.”