The Falcon sailed down Channel with her convoy of merchantmen. She was to see them safe across the Atlantic to different ports in the West Indies, and then to proceed on her voyage to the East.
Early in the morning, Ralph, with the other pressed men, had been sent up on deck and their names duly entered in the ship’s books. Still he had a lingering hope that Captain Mudge would come off in time with the protection. How cruelly that hope was disappointed has been seen. With intense anxiety he had watched for the boat: he had seen her at length approaching. Already the capstan had been manned, and the men were tramping round against the pawls, the fifes playing merrily, to run the anchor up to the bows. While stationed at the fore-topsail braces, as he looked through a port he had recognised Jessie in the Amity’s boat. The temptation to bid her farewell was greater than he could resist. The brace was belayed: he sprang into the rigging that Jessie might see him. A midshipman observing the boat, and thinking that he was about to spring overboard to her, ordered him to be seized, and suddenly he found himself dragged down on deck and placed under charge of the master-at-arms for attempting to desert.
Ralph had now more reason than ever to be cast down. The offence with which he was charged was a serious one, yet the consciousness that he had no intention of committing it supported him. For long he was kept in suspense, while the ship with her attendant merchantmen was making an offing from the land before shaping a course down Channel. At length he was conducted between two marines to the quarter-deck, where Captain Shortland and his officers were standing and a large portion of the crew were assembled.
“I must have you understand, my lads, that I intend to maintain strict discipline on board this ship. I shall have an eye on those who do their duty, and on those who neglect it. I never forgive an offence, and shall severely punish drunkenness, insubordination, and desertion, or attempt at desertion: and I intend to make an example of the man who was, I am informed, about to try to desert from the ship.” And the captain looked at Ralph, who stood between his guards. All eyes were turned towards him. “What is his name?” asked the captain of the first lieutenant. On being told, he continued, “Ralph Michelmore, after having entered as one of this ship’s company, you were about to desert to a boat which had come off to receive you, and I shall give you two dozen lashes as a warning to yourself and others for the future.”
“I had no intention of deserting, sir,” answered Ralph, firmly. “The boat brought off the master of the brig to which I belong, with my protection, and I could easily have slipped through a port had I wished it.”
“And I can say, sir, that Ralph Michelmore speaks the truth. He’s an old shipmate of mine, and I never heard him tell the shadow of a lie,” said Dick Bracewell, stepping aft and doffing his hat. “He could have made his escape before he was brought aboard if he’d had a mind to do it, but he wouldn’t because he’d passed his word that he’d stay quiet, and the officer who pressed us knows it and can say so if he likes.”
The old mate who had commanded the press-gang, and was now attending to his duties on the lower deck, was sent for, and at once corroborated what Dick had said, explaining at the same time the circumstances of Ralph’s capture.
“I believe you, and you may return to your duty,” said the captain, looking at Ralph. “For your sake I am sorry that you were pressed, though I am glad to have got so smart a seaman as you appear to be; and if you turn out as I expect, you may have no reason to regret that you were compelled to join this ship. Pipe down.”
The men went below or forward to their respective duties.
“Well, my lad,” said the old sailor who had spoken to Ralph in the boat, coming up to him, “I’m right glad you’ve got out of that scrape, and, as I said afore, if ever you want a friend you’ll find Jacob Crane a staunch one. I can feel for you, lad; I can feel for you.”