The Two Shipmates

by William Henry Giles Kingston

Thus the Falcon stood majestically on as if not a foe were near.

Though Ralph had never before seen a shot fired in anger, he stood at his post close to the wheel as calm and collected as the oldest seaman.

The eager crew had not much time to wait, before, by a clever manoeuvre, the frigate had been brought with her starboard broadside to bear directly on the stern of the French ship at less than pistol-shot distance. At the same moment the order to fire was passed along the decks and rapidly obeyed. Every shot went crashing into the French ship, raking her fore and aft, and probably killing the men at the wheel; for before she had time to alter her position the Falcon luffed into the wind, just scraping clear of her spanker-boom, and shooting up to leeward, let fly the whole of her other broadside with terrible effect into her opponent. So rapidly had this manoeuvre of the English frigate been performed, that several of the Frenchman’s weather guns went off after she had passed to leeward. The action was now carried on broadside to broadside, the position in which British seamen most delight.

“Aim low, my lads! aim low!” was the oft repeated order of the officers in charge of the guns, as they moved along the decks; not that there was much necessity for it, as the men had got a good mark before them, and were pounding away at it as fast as they could load and run out their guns. The Frenchmen were at the same time vigorously returning their fire, but as if intent on crippling their foe and then taking her at a disadvantage, they sent most of their shot flying through her rigging, bringing blocks and spars and ropes in thick showers down on deck. Though most of the enemy’s shot flew high, others came whizzing between the men’s heads, crashing into the sides of the frigate, or knocking away her bulwarks. Several of the crew had been wounded and carried below, but as yet two only had been killed, their bodies being drawn aside, when it was found that they were really dead, out of the way of their shipmates at the guns. Hitherto Ralph had escaped unhurt, though the head of one of the men at the wheel close to him had been taken off by a round shot, and an officer near him had been struck to the deck. By the lurid glare from the quick succeeding flashes and the light of the lanterns, he caught a glimpse of Dick working away manfully at one of the upper deck guns, he, like most of the crew, stripped to the waist, with a handkerchief tied round his head. Now he was visible, now he was concealed by the clouds of smoke which, circling round and then rising in the air, formed a dark canopy over the combatants. Young Chandos was not far off. Whatever might have been his sensations at first, he was collected enough now to attend steadily to his duty, and the work going on was a pretty severe trial to young nerves. The midnight battle raged fiercer and fiercer. A shot came flying by. Ralph felt that he was hit severely in the arm, and was compelled to summon another man to the wheel; but binding up his wounded limb, he stood as before at his post. Not many minutes afterwards a round shot struck the bulwarks, sending splinters flying in every direction. At the same moment Ralph, who had his eye on the captain, saw him stagger, and springing forward,

caught him with his unwounded arm just as he was falling to the deck. Others gathered round. It was evident that he had been most seriously wounded. In vain he endeavoured to speak, but becoming senseless was carried below. Lieutenant Handsel at once took the command, making his clear voice, as he issued his orders, heard amid the wild din of battle. For an hour and a half the engagement had raged on and yet was as furious as ever. The lieutenant of marines, a tall, handsome young man, was cut almost in two by a round shot soon after the captain had fallen, and several more men were hit. Aloft, however, the damage was far more severe than on deck; the running rigging hung in festoons, the standing rigging was cut to pieces, every sail was riddled through and through, and the masts and yards were badly wounded in many places. Judging by the crashing sound which came back from the French ship after each broadside fired by the Falcon, and the white splinters which flew from every part of her upper works, she was in a still worse plight. Still her crew kept up a hot fire. The young midshipmen, and even others, might possibly have begun to wish that the battle was over.

“Keep at it, my lads!” was the cry passed along the decks; “she’ll soon give in.”

Broadsides had been exchanged: another proceeded from the Falcon; but none came in return.

“Cease firing!” cried Lieutenant Handsel; and as soon as all was silent he hailed the enemy and asked if she had struck. No reply was made. Again the Falcon opened fire; but as the Frenchmen did not return it, she at once ceased, and a second time the lieutenant hailed, but no answer was made.

“We must give them more of it!” he shouted.