"White as a white sail on a dusky sea.
When half the horizon's clouded and half free,
Fluttering between the dim wave and the sky
Is hope's last gleam in man's extremity."
_The Island._
The dawning of day, on the morning which succeeded, was a moment of
great interest on board the different English ships which then lay off
the Gulf of Salerno. Cuffe and Lyon were called, according to especial
orders left by themselves, while even Sir Frederick Dashwood allowed
himself to be awakened, to hear the report of the officer of the watch.
The first was up quite half an hour before the light appeared. He even
went into the maintop again, in order to get as early and as wide a
survey of the horizon as he wished. Griffin went aloft with him, and
together they stood leaning against the topmast rigging, watching the
slow approach of those rays which gradually diffused themselves over the
whole of a panorama that was as bewitching as the hour and the lovely
accessories of an Italian landscape could render it.
"I see nothing _in-shore_," exclaimed Cuffe, in a tone of
disappointment, when the light permitted a tolerable view of the coast.
"If she should be _outside_ of us our work will be only half done!"
"There is a white speck close in with the land, _sir_," returned
Griffin; "here, In the direction of those ruins, of which our gentlemen
that have been round in the boats to look at, tell such marvels; I
believe, however, it is only a felucca or a sparanara. There is a peak
to the sail that does not look lugger-fashion."
"What is this, off here at the northwest, Griffin?--Is it too large for
the le Few-Folly?"
"That must be the Terpsichore, sir. It's just where she _ought_ to be,
as I understand the orders; and I suppose Sir Frederick has carried her
there. But yonder's a sail, in the northern board, which may turn out to
be the lugger; she is fairly within Campanella, and is not far from the
north shore of the bay."
"By George!--that _must_ be she; Monsieur Yvard has kept her skulking
round and about Amalfi, all this time! Let us go down, and set
everything that will draw, at once, sir."
In two minutes Griffin was on deck, hauling the yards, and clearing away
to make sail. As usual, the wind was light at the southward again, and
the course would be nearly before it. Studding-sail booms were to be run
out, the sails set, and the ship's head laid to the northward, keeping a
little to seaward of the chase. At this moment the Proserpine had the
Point of Piane, and the little village of Abate, nearly abeam. The ship
might have been going four knots through the water, and the distance
across the mouth of the bay was something like thirty miles. Of course,
eight hours would be necessary to carry the frigate over the intervening
space should the wind stand, as it probably would not, at that season of
the year. A week later, and strong southerly winds might be expected,
but that week was as interminable as an age, for any present purpose.
Half-an-hour's trial satisfied all on the deck of the Proserpine, that
the chase was keeping off, like themselves, and that she was standing
toward the mountains of Amalfi. Her progress, too, was about equal to
that of the frigate, for, dead before the wind, the latter ship was
merely a good sailer; her great superiority commencing only when she
brought the breeze forward of the beam. It has been supposed that the
stranger, when first seen, was about fifteen miles distant, his canvas
appearing both small and shapeless; but some doubts now began to be
entertained, equally as to his rig, his size, and his distance. If a
large or a lofty vessel, of course he must be materially further off,
and if a large or lofty vessel it could not be le Feu-Follet.
The other frigate took her cue from the Proserpine, and stood across for
the northern side of the gulf; a certain proof that nothing was visible,
from her mast-heads, to lead her in any other direction. Two hours,
however, satisfied all on board the latter ship that they were on a
wrong scent, and that the vessel to leeward was their own consort, the
sloop; Lyon having, in his eagerness to get the prize before she could
be seen from the other ships, carried the Ring-dove quite within the
bay, and thus misled Cuffe and Sir Frederick.
"There can no longer be any doubt!" exclaimed the captain of the
Proserpine, dropping his glass, with vexation too strongly painted in
his manner to be mistaken; "that is a ship; and, as you say, Winchester,
it must be the Ringdove; though what the devil Lyon is doing away in
there with her, unless he sees something close under the land, is more
than I can tell. As there is clearly nothing in this quarter, we will
stand on, and take a look for ourselves."
This nearly destroyed the hope of success. The officers began to suspect
that their lookout on Campanella had been deceived, and that what he had
supposed to be a lugger was, in truth, a felucca, or perhaps a xebec--a
craft which might well be mistaken for a lugger, at the distance of a
few leagues. The error, however, was with those in the ship. The officer
sent upon the heights was a shrewd, practised master's-mate, who knew
everything about his profession that properly came within his line, and
knew little else. But for a habit of drinking, he would long since have
been a lieutenant, being, in truth, an older sailor than Westchester;
but, satisfied of his own infirmity, and coming from a class in life in
which preferment was viewed as a Godsend rather than as a right, he had
long settled down into the belief that he was to live and die in his
present station, thereby losing most of the desire to rise. The name of
this man was Clinch. In consequence of his long experience, within the
circle of his duties, his opinion was greatly respected by his
superiors, when he was sober; and as he had the precaution not to be
otherwise when engaged on service, his weakness seldom brought him into
any serious difficulties. Cuffe, as a last hope, had sent him up on the
heights of Campanella, with a perfect conviction that, if anything were
really in sight, he would not fail to see it. All this confidence,
however, had now ended in disappointment; and, half-an-hour later, when
it was announced to Cuffe that "the cutter, with Mr. Clinch, was coming
down the bay toward them," the former even heard the name of his drunken
favorite with disgust. As was usual with him, when out of humor, he went
below as the boat drew near, leaving orders for her officer to be sent
down to him, the instant the latter got on board. Five minutes later,
Clinch thrust his hard-looking, weatherbeaten, but handsome red
countenance in at the cabin-door.
"Well, sir," commenced the captain, on a tolerably high key, "a d--d
pretty wild-goose chase you've sent us all on, down here, into this bay!
The southerly wind is failing already, and in half an hour the ships
will be frying the pitch off their decks, without a breath of air; when
the wind does come, it will come out at west, and bring us all four or
five leagues dead to leeward!"
Clinch's experience had taught him the useful man-of-war lesson, to bow
to the tempest, and not to attempt to brave it. Whenever he was
"rattled-down," as he called it, he had the habit of throwing an
expression of surprise, comically blended with contrition, into his
countenance, that seemed to say, "What have I done now?"--or "If I have
done anything amiss, you see how sorry I an for it." He met his
irritated commander, on the present occasion, with this expression, and
it produced the usual effect of mollifying him a little.
"Well, sir--explain this matter, if you please," continued Cuffe, after
a moment's hesitation.
"Will you please to tell me, sir, what you wish explained?" inquired
Clinch, throwing more surprise than common, even, into his countenance.
"That is an extraordinary question, Mr. Clinch! I wish the signal you
made from yonder headland explained, sir. Did you not signal the ship,
to say that you saw the le Few-Folly down here, at the southward?"
"Well, sir, I'm glad there was no mistake in the matter," answered
Clinch, in a confident and a relieved manner. "I _was_ afraid at first,
Captain Cuffe, my signal had not been understood."
"Understood! How could it be mistaken? You showed a black ball, for 'the
lugger's in sight.' You'll not deny that, I trust?"
"No, sir; one black ball, for 'the lugger's in sight.' That's just what
I did show, Captain Cuffe."
"And _three_ black balls together, for 'she bears due south from Capri.'
What do you say to _that_"
"All right, sir. Three black balls together, for 'she bears due south
from Capri.' I didn't tell the distance, Captain Cuffe, because Mr.
Winchester gave me no signals for that."
"And these signals you kept showing every half-hour, as long as it was
light; even until the Proserpine was off."
"All according to orders, Captain Cuffe, as Mr. Winchester will tell
you. I was to repeat every half-hour, as long as the lugger was in
sight, and the day lasted."
"Aye, sir; but you were not ordered to send as after a jack-o-lantern,
or to mistake some xebec or other, from one of the Greek islands, for a
light, handy French lugger"
"Nor did I, Captain Cuffe, begging your pardon, sir. I signalled the
Few-Folly, and nothing else, I give you my word for it."
Cuffe looked hard at the master's-mate for a half a minute, and his ire
insensibly lessened as he gazed.
"You are too old a seaman, Clinch, not to know what you were about! If
you saw the privateer, be good enough to tell us what has become
of her."
"That is more than I can say, Captain Cuffe, though _see_ her I did; and
that so plainly, as to be able to make out her jigger, even. You know,
sir, we shot away her jigger-mast in the chase off Elba, and she got a
new one, that steves for'rard uncommonly. I noticed _that_ when we fell
in with her in the Canal of Piombino; and seeing it again, could not but
know it. But there's no mistaking the saucy Folly, for them that has
once seen her; and I am certain we made her out, about four leagues to
the southward of the cape, at the time I first signalled."
"Four leagues!--I had though she must be at least eight or ten, and kept
off that distance, to get her in the net. Why did you not let us know
her distance?"
"Had no signals for that, Captain Cuffe."
"Well, then, why not send a boat to tell us the fact?"
"Had no orders, sir. Was told by Mr. Winchester just to signal the
lugger and her bearings; and this, you must own, Captain Cuffe, we did
plain enough. Besides, sir--"
"Well; besides _what_?" demanded the captain, observing that the
master's-mate hesitated.
"Why, sir, how was I to know that any one in the ship would think a
lugger _could_ be seen eight or ten leagues? That's a long bit of water,
sir; and it would take a heavy ship's spars to rise high enough for
such a sight."
"The land you were on, Clinch, was much loftier than any vessel's
spars."
"Quite true, sir; but not lofty enough for that, Captain Cuffe. That I
saw the Folly, I'm as certain as I as being in this cabin."
"What has become of her, then? You perceive she is not in the bay now."
"I suppose, Captain Cuffe, that she stood in until near enough for her
purpose, and that she must have hauled off the land after the night set
in. There was plenty of room for her to pass out to sea again, between
the two frigates, and not be seen in the dark."
This conjecture was so plausible as to satisfy Cuffe; yet it was not the
fact. Clinch had made le Feu-Follet, from his elevated post, to the
southward, as his signal had said; and he was right in all his
statements about her, until darkness concealed her movements. Instead of
passing out of the bay, as he imagined, however, she had hauled up
within a quarter of a league of Campanella, doubled that point, brushed
along the coast to the northward of it, fairly within the Bay of Naples,
and pushed out to sea between Capri and Ischia, going directly athwart
the anchorage the men-of-war had so recently quitted, in order to do so.
When Raoul quitted his vessel, he order her to stand directly off the
land, just keeping Ischia and Capri in view, lying-to under her jigger.
As this was low sail, and a lugger shows so little aloft, it was a
common expedient of cruisers of that rig, when they wished to escape
observation. Monsieur Pintard, Raoul's first lieutenant, had expected a
signal from his commander, at the very spot where Clinch had taken his
station; but seeing none, he had swept along the coast after dark, in
the hope of discovering his position by the burning of a blue light.
Failing of this, however, he went off the land again, in time to get an
offing before the return of day, and to save the wind. It was the
boldness of the manoeuvre that saved the lugger; Lyon going out through
the pass between Capri and Campanella, about twenty minutes before
Pintard brushed close round the rocks, under his jigger and jib only,
anxiously looking out for a signal from his captain. The Frenchmen saw
the sloop-of-war quite plainly, and by the aid of their night-glasses
ascertained her character; mistaking her, however, for another ship,
bound to Sicily or Malta--while their own vessel escaped observation,
owing to the little sail she carried, the want of hamper, and her
situation so near the land, which gave her a background of rocks. Clinch
had not seen the movements of the lugger after dark, in consequence of
his retiring to the village of St. Agata, to seek lodgings, as soon as
he perceived that his own ship had gone to sea, and left him and his
boat's crew behind. The following morning, when he made the ship to the
southward, he pushed off, and pulled toward his proper vessel,
as related.
"Where did you pass the night, Clinch?" demanded the captain, after they
had discussed the probability of the lugger's escape. "Not on the
heights, under the canopy of heaven?"
"On the heights, and under the great canopy that has covered us both so
often, Captain Cuffe; but with a good Neapolitan mud-roof between it and
my head. As soon as it was dark, and I saw that the ship was off, I
found a village, named St. Agata, that stands on the heights, just abeam
of those rocks they call the Sirens, and there we were well berthed
until morning."
"You are lucky in bringing back all the boat's crew, Clinch. You know
it's low water with us as to men, just now; and our fellows are not all
to be trusted ashore, in a country that is full of stone walls, good
wine, and pretty girls."
"I always take a set of regular steady ones with me, Captain Cuffe; I
haven't lost a man from a boat these five years."
"You must have some secret, then, worth knowing; for even the admirals
sometimes lose their barge-men. I dare say, now, yours are all married
chaps, that hold on to their wives as so many sheet-anchors; they say
that is often a good expedient."
"Not at all, sir. I did try that, till I found that half the fellows
would run to get rid of their wives. The Portsmouth and Plymouth
marriages don't always bring large estates with them, sir, and the
bridegrooms like to cut adrift at the end of the honeymoon. Don't you
remember when we were in the Blenheim together, sir, we lost eleven of
the launch's crew at one time; and nine of them turned out to be
vagabonds, sir, that deserted their weeping wives and suffering
families at home!"
"Now you mention it, I do remember something of the sort; draw a chair,
Clinch, and take a glass of grog. Tim, put a bottle of Jamaica before
Mr. Clinch, I have heard it said that you are married yourself, my
gallant master's mate?"
"Lord, Captain Cuffe, that's one of the young gentlemen's stories! If a
body believed all they say, the Christian religion would soon get
athwart-hawse, and mankind be all adrift in their morals," answered
Clinch, smacking his lips, after a very grateful draught. "We've a
regular set of high-flyers aboard this ship, at this blessed minute,
Captain Cuffe, sir, and Mr. Winchester has his hands full of them. I
often wonder at his patience, sir."
"We were young once ourselves, Clinch, and ought to be indulgent to the
follies of youth. But what sort of a berth did you find last night upon
the rocks yonder?"
"Why, sir, as good as one can expect out of Old England. I fell in with
an elderly woman calling herself Giuntotardi--which is regular built
Italian, isn't it, sir?"
"That it is--but, you speak the language, I believe, Clinch?"
"Why, sir, I've been drifting about the world so long, that I speak a
little of everything, finding it convenient when I stand in need of
victuals and drink. The old lady on the hill and I overhauled a famous
yarn between us, sir. It seems she has a niece and a brother at Naples,
who ought to have been back night before last; and she was in lots of
tribulation about them, wanting to know if our ship had seen anything of
the rovers."
"By George, Clinch, you were on the soundings there, had you but known
it! Our prisoner has been in that part of the world, and we might get
some clue to his manoeuvres, by questioning the old woman closely. I
hope you parted good friends?"
"The best in the world, Captain Cuffe. No one that feeds and lodges _me_
well, need dread me as an enemy!"
"I'll warrant it! That's the reason you are so loyal, Clinch?"
The hard, red face of the master's mate worked a little, and, though he
could not well look all sorts of colors, he looked all ways but in his
captain's eye. It was now ten years since he ought to have been a
lieutenant, having once actually outranked Cuffe, in the way of date of
service at least; and his conscience told him two things quite
distinctly: first, the fact of his long and weary probation; second,
that it was, in a great degree, his own fault.
"I love His Majesty, sir," Clinch observed, after giving a gulp, "and I
never lay anything that goes hard with myself to his account. Still,
memory will be memory; and spite of all I can do, sir, I sometimes
remember what I _might_ have been, as well as what I _am_. If his
Majesty _does_ feed me, it is with the spoon of a master's mate; and if
he _does_ lodge me, it is in the cockpit."
"I have been your shipmate often, and for years at a time," answered
Cuffe good-naturedly, though a little in the manner of a superior; "and
no one knows your history better. It is not your friends who have failed
you at need, so much as a certain enemy, with whom you will insist on
associating, though he harms them most who love him best."
"Aye, aye, sir--that can't be denied, Captain Cuffe; yet it's a hard
life that passes altogether without hope."
This was uttered with an expression of melancholy that said more for
Clinch's character than Cuffe had witnessed in the man for years, and it
revived many early impressions in his favor. Clinch and he had once been
messmates, even; and though years of a decided disparity in rank had
since interposed their barrier of etiquette and feeling, Cuffe never
could entirely forget the circumstance.
"It is hard, indeed, to live as you say, without hope," returned the
captain; "but hope _ought_ to be the last thing to die. You should make
one more rally, Clinch, before you throw up in despair."
"It is not so much for myself, Captain Cuffe, that I mind it, as for
some that live ashore. My father was as reputable a tradesman as there
was in Plymouth, and when he got me on the quarter-deck he thought he
was about to make a gentleman of me, instead of leaving me to pass a
life in a situation that may be said to be even beneath what his
own was."
"Now you undervalue your station, Clinch. The berth of a master's-mate
in one of His Majesty's finest frigates is something to be proud of; I
was once a master's-mate--nay, Nelson has doubtless filled the same
station. For that matter, one of His Majesty's own sons may have gone
through the rank."
"Aye, gone _through_ it, as you say, sir," returned Clinch, with a husky
voice. "It does well enough for them that go _through_ it, but it's
death to them that _stick_. It's a feather in a midshipman's cap to be
rated a mate; but it's no honor to be a mate at my time of life,
Captain Cuffe."
"What's your age, Clinch? You are not much my senior?"
"Your senior, sir! The difference in our years is not as great as in our
rank, certainly, though I never shall see thirty-two again. But it's not
so much _that_, after all, as the thoughts of my poor mother, who set
her heart on seeing me with His Majesty's commission in my pocket; and
of another who set her heart on one that I'm afraid was never worthy
her affection."
"This is new to me, Clinch," returned the captain, with interest. "One
so seldom thinks of a master's-mate marrying, that the idea of your
being in that way has never crossed my mind, except in the manner of
a joke."
"Master's-mates _have_ married, Captain Cuffe, and they have ended in
being very miserable. But Jane, as well as myself, has made up her mind
to live single, unless we can see brighter prospects before us than what
my present hopes afford."
"Is it quite right, Jack, to keep a poor young woman towing along in
this uncertainty, during the period of life when her chances for making
a good connection are the best?"
Clinch stared at his commander until his eyes filled with tears. The
glass had not touched his lips since the conversation took its present
direction; and the usual hard settled character of his face was becoming
expressive once more with human emotions.
"It's not my fault, Captain Cuffe," he answered, in a low voice; "it's
now quite six years since I insisted on her giving me up; but she
wouldn't hear of the thing. A very respectable attorney wished to have
her, and I even prayed her to accept his offer; and the only unkind
glance I ever got from her eye, was when she heard me make a request
that she told me sounded impiously almost to her ears. She would be a
sailor's wife or die a maid."
"The girl has unfortunately got some romantic notions concerning the
profession, Clinch, and they are ever the hardest to be convinced of
what is for their own good."
"Jane Weston! Not she, sir. There is not as much romance about her as in
the fly-leaves of a prayer-book. She is all _heart_, poor Jane; and how
I came to get such a hold of it, Captain Cuffe, is a great mystery to
myself. I certainly do not _deserve_ half her affection, and I now begin
to despair of ever being able to repay her for it."
Clinch was still a handsome man, though exposure and his habits had
made some inroads on a countenance that by nature was frank, open, and
prepossessing. It now expressed the anguish that occasionally came over
his heart, as the helplessness of his situation presented itself fully
to his mind. Cuffe's feelings were touched, for he remembered the time
when they were messmates, with a future before them that promised no
more to the one than to the other, the difference in the chances which
birth afforded the captain alone excepted. Clinch was a prime seaman,
and as brave as a lion, too; qualities that secured to him a degree of
respect that his occasional self-forgetfulness had never entirely
forfeited. Some persons thought him the most skilful mariner the
Proserpine contained; and, perhaps, this was true, if the professional
skill were confined strictly to the handling of a ship, or to taking
care of her on critical occasions. All these circumstances induced Cuffe
to enter more closely into the master's-mate's present distress than he
might otherwise have done. Instead of shoving the bottle to him,
however, as if conscious how much disappointed hope had already driven
the other to its indiscreet use, he pushed it gently aside, and taking
his old messmate's hand with a momentary forgetfulness of the difference
in rank, he said in a tone of kindness and confidence that had long been
strangers to Clinch's ears:
"Jack, my honest fellow, there is good stuff in you yet, if you will
only give it fair play. Make a manly rally, respect yourself for a few
months, and something will turn up that will yet give you your Jane, and
gladden your old mother's heart."
There are periods in the lives of men, when a few kind words, backed by
a friendly act or two, might save thousands of human beings from
destruction. Such was the crisis in the fate of Clinch. He had almost
given up hope, though it did occasionally revive in him whenever he got
a cheering letter from the constant Jane, who pertinaciously refused to
believe anything to his prejudice, and religiously abstained from all
reproaches. But it is necessary to understand the influence of rank on
board a man-of-war, fully to comprehend the effect which was now
produced on the master's-mate by the captain's language and manner.
Tears streamed out of the eyes of Clinch, and he grasped the hand of his
commander almost convulsively.
"What can I do, sir? Captain Cuffe, what can I do?" he exclaimed. "My
duty is never neglected; but there _are_ moments of despair, when I find
the burden too hard to be borne, without calling upon the bottle
for support."
"Whenever a man drinks with such a motive, Clinch, I would advise him to
abstain altogether. He cannot trust himself; and that which he terms his
friend is, in truth, his direst enemy. Refuse your rations, even;
determine to be free. One week, nay, one day, may give a strength that
will enable you to conquer, by leaving your reason unimpaired. Absence
from the ship has accidentally befriended you--for the little you have
taken here has not been sufficient to do any harm. We are now engaged on
a most interesting duty, and I will throw service into your way that may
be of importance to you. Get your name once fairly in a despatch, and
your commission is safe. Nelson loves to prefer old tars; and nothing
would make him happier than to be able to serve _you_. Put it in my
power to ask it of him, and I'll answer for the result. Something may
yet come out of your visit to the cottage of this woman, and do you be
mindful to keep yourself in fortune's way."
"God bless you, Captain Cuffe--God bless you, sir," answered Clinch,
nearly choked; "I'll endeavor to do as you wish."
"Remember Jane and your mother. With such a woman dependent for her
happiness on his existence, a man must be a brute not to struggle hard."
Clinch groaned--for Cuffe probed his wound deep; though it was done with
an honest desire to cure. After wiping the perspiration from his face,
and writhing on his chair, however, he recovered a little of his
self-command, and became comparatively composed.
"If a friend could only point out the way by which I might recover some
of the lost ground," he said, "my gratitude to him would last as long as
life, Captain Cuffe."
"Here is an opening then, Clinch. Nelson attaches as much importance to
our catching this lugger as he ever did to falling in with a fleet. The
officer who is serviceable on this occasion may be sure of being
remembered, and I will give you every chance in my power. Go, dress
yourself in your best; make yourself look as you know you can; then be
ready for boat service. I have some duty for you now, which will be but
the beginning of good luck, if you only remain true to your mother, to
Jane, and to yourself."
A new life was infused into Clinch. For years he had been
overlooked--apparently forgotten, except when thorough seamanship was
required; and even his experiment of getting transferred to a vessel
commanded by an old messmate had seemingly failed. Here was a change,
however, and a ray, brighter than common, shone athwart the darkness of
his future. Even Cuffe was struck with the cheerfulness of his
countenance, and the alacrity of the master's-mate's movements, and he
reproached himself with having so long been indifferent to the best
interests of one who certainly had some claims on his friendship. Still,
there was nothing unusual in the present relations between these old
messmates. Favored by family and friends, Cuffe had never been permitted
to fall into despondency, and had pursued his career successfully and
with spirit; while the other unsupported, and failing of any immediate
opportunity for getting ahead, had fallen into evil ways, and come to
be, by slow degrees, the man he was. Such instances as the latter are of
not unfrequent occurrence even in a marine in which promotion is as
regular as our own, though it is rare indeed that a man recovers his
lost ground when placed in circumstances so trying.
In half an hour Clinch was ready, dressed in his best. The gentlemen of
the quarter-deck saw all these preparations with surprise; for, of late,
the master's-mate had seldom been seen in that part of the ship at all.
But, in a man-of-war, discipline is a matter of faith, and no one
presumed to ask questions. Clinch was closeted with the captain for a
few minutes, received his orders, and went over the ship's side with a
cheerful countenance, actually entering the captain's gig, the
fastest-rowing boat of the ship. As soon as seated, he shoved off, and
held his way toward the point of Campanella, then distant about three
leagues. No one knew whither he was bound, though all believed it was on
duty that related to the lugger, and duty that required a seaman's
judgment. As for Cuffe, his manner, which-had begun to be uneasy and
wandering, became more composed when he saw his old messmate fairly off,
and that, too, at a rate which would carry him even to Naples in the
course of a few hours, should his voyage happen to be so long.