“As many as you like,” said the Captain; and he and his lieutenant stepped aside.
Scarcely a minute had passed before Paul Pringle came up to him.
“We’ll all join you, sir, Billy and all,” said he; “and I suppose, sir, you’ll not object to take Sam Smatch in? He always goes with us; and though he’s not wanted to nurse Billy now, there isn’t a better hand with his fiddle to be found anywhere. He might get a good living on shore—that he might, sir; but he’d rather stick by us, as he’s always done, in spite of all the ups and downs of a life at sea, sir.”
“Sam Smatch? Of course we’ll have him!” said the Captain, not trying to conceal how highly pleased he was at getting so fine a haul of good men at one time for his ship. “And now I wish you to accompany Mr Brine on board at once and enter. When it’s known that we have a fair number of good men, others will join; and the faster we man the ship, the sooner we shall get to sea and be at the enemy.”
A little more conversation passed. Paul and his companions went on board and entered; and Mr Brine, soon convinced that they might be trusted on shore, allowed them to go. They employed their time so well in singing the praises of their new Captain, that in a week or two the Ruby was fully manned. In those days the crew themselves were chiefly employed in fitting the ship for sea, and as they all worked with a will, in a very short time longer she had all her stores and provisions on board, and was ready to go out to Spithead. The remainder of the officers had joined; Blue Peter was hoisted, and, with a fair breeze, she stood out of Portsmouth Harbour. In two days more her powder was on board, and under all sail she was running out at the Needle Passage.
The frigate was on the home station; but there was plenty of work for her. The enemy’s cruisers were very active; and they had some fine fast frigates, which committed a great deal of mischief among the merchant shipping, and carried off numbers of prizes.
Captain Garland determined to capture one or more of these, if he could, without delay. His ship soon showed her fast-sailing qualities by making prizes of a number of small fry, in the shape of French coasters, “chasse-marées,” and two or three larger merchantmen, which were sent into either Plymouth or Portsmouth to be disposed of. This sort of work, however, did not satisfy the wishes of either the Captain or his officers or crew. Among those most eager for the fight was Billy True Blue Freeborn. That was the way in which his name had been entered in the ship’s books. He recollected clearly what a battle was, though he had not been engaged in one since that fierce engagement when he lost his friend and chief, Captain Penrose.
Since then, he had been for the greater part of the time at sea, partly on board a man-of-war, but mostly in merchantmen and coasters, where Paul Pringle took him, that, as he said, he might not be afraid of rocks and shoals, or the look of a lee-shore in a gale of wind. Out of all that time he had only remained three years on shore, as his kind guardian remarked, “to get his edication, and to larn manners.”
Paul Pringle used to boast among his friends that Billy True Blue was already a perfect seaman, and that he would sooner trust him at the helm on a squally night, or on the lookout forward on a dark one, than he would most men twice his age; but he took care never to say this in True Blue’s own hearing, lest, as he observed, “the lad should larn to think too much of hisself.”
True Blue had not been long on board the Ruby before he became a favourite with most of his new shipmates. Had he not had watchful guardians about him, he would soon have been spoilt by them. To see him dance the hornpipe, while Sam Smatch played his old fiddle, was, as his admirers declared, “indeed a pleasure not to be met with any day in the week,” except on board the Ruby. How he could shuffle and spring, and whirl, and whisk, and snap his fingers! He looked as if he was made of India-rubber, filled with quicksilver. And then he had a very good voice and a fair notion of singing, and right merrily he could troll forth some of those stirring sea-songs which have animated the gallant tars of Old England to perform deeds of the greatest heroism, and have served to beguile and soothe many an hour of their existence on the ocean, far away from home and all its softening influences.