The next day was Sunday, but a sad day on the _North King_; for it was
known by daybreak throughout the long line of bunks in the forecastle,
that the woman was dead.
The rugged tars, inured to the vicissitudes of warfare and the hardships
of a never ending life on the sea, would have thought nothing of
dropping a man overboard--"for what is a man more than a sheep?" And the
brave soldiers, who time and again had rolled a fallen comrade hastily
into a hole to keep his body from falling into the hands of the enemy,
would only have been putting one more man out of sight. But this was a
woman, the wife of a fellow-soldier, who had dared to leave her children
that she might be with her husband and his comrades through all the
terrors of a long winter march. The conditions were different. In
importance there was no comparison. And when Chaplain Evans, after
reading morning prayers on that still December morning, announced that
the funeral service would be at three o'clock in the afternoon, there
were long lines of compressed lips and rigid features as well. All
hearts were softened. By-and-bye all was over, and the sealed bag was
dropped into the ocean. Then the men lined up and one by one grasped the
Corporal by the hand, mutely telling him of their love and sympathy. It
was all the poor fellow could stand. Perhaps it was bad form. They had
never had a similar experience to guide them. But it told Corporal
Jenkins that their hearts were true; and after the last clasp he strode
away by himself to shed silent tears over his lost wife and motherless
bairns.
* * * * *
For two days there was a subdued aspect onboard. The men joked less.
There were fewer guffaws. Even "Sally" was not sung; and all on board,
from the Colonel downward, bore the aspect of men impressed with the
fact that something unusual had happened.
But soon a change came. Everything in the past was forgotten. The actual
present became of vital moment, for in the early morning, "Sail ahead,"
sounded from the look-out. "Three-masted.
West-by-sou'-west-and-over-to-larboard."
"What flag?" shouted the officer on duty.
"Too far off. Can't tell yet," was the answer.
In another minute, Captain Osborne was there too; and in the distance,
brightened by the sunlight, he discerned a little speck of white canvas.
The hull of the vessel was still hidden by the curve of the ocean.
Bringing his glass to bear, he exclaimed to Sir George who stood beside
him:
"I see it now; and, by heaven, it's the Yankee flag!"
"What's her course?" he yelled to the man aloft.
"Bearing down upon us, tacking to nor'-east. Now I see her flag. It's
the Stars and Stripes. Looks like a man-of-war. The black spots must be
her guns."
"Clear ship for action," shouted the captain in ringing tones.
Quickly the decks were swept of all but guns, canister and shot. Pikes,
pistols and rifles were ready. Gun tackles were lashed. Every man was at
his post.
In five minutes the distant vessel loomed up into clearer vision. The
Stars and Stripes were there sure enough. Sweeping down upon them, the
tightly built little craft was full of fight and bent upon the
offensive.
"She's plucky to attack us," exclaimed the captain, "with the odds in
guns and ship room in our favor."
"Yes, but look at her speed. How she scoots through the water!"
"There! She's tacking again," muttered the captain. "When her
larboard-side heaves to, we'll take time by the forelock and open fire.
Be ready, men!"
In another minute the American vessel gracefully swept around, setting
every sail in good position for the conflict. Then the captain signalled
for a round from the larboard guns. Instantly the big cannon bellowed
forth their messenger of death. But it was none too soon, for at the
same moment smoke issued from the bow of the frigate, and a twenty pound
ball plunged through the ranks on the deck of the _North King_,
shattering one of the boats to pieces.
"A good shot," said the captain quietly, as his men carried off a dead
seaman and a couple of wounded soldiers.
"Her name's the _Delaware_," said Sir George, who was using his glass.
"We've hit her," ejaculated the captain. "There's a hole in her
forecastle and her bowsprit's gone. Give her the rest of the larboard
guns."
That the _Delaware_ was injured was evident, for although continuing to
fire, she tacked again and put on full sail to increase the distance
between herself and the British ship.
A fierce yell rang out from the men. The order for chase was given and,
wild with enthusiasm, every stitch of canvas was put on in hope of
overtaking the retreating _Delaware_. The sun shone overhead among
white-cap clouds, and the sea was tossing big waves and foamy jets over
the sides of the ships; while at brief intervals one or other continued
to belch out its thunder and its shot.
But the distance was too great for many of the balls to be effective.
The Yankee fire did some damage to the rigging and sent a nine-pound
ball through a porthole, making havoc inside, and wounding men; but as
she was creeping further away the fire of the _North King_ did little
service. Over and over again the gunners aimed at her mizzen-mast, but
it didn't budge. They were not sure that the shot even touched the ship.
The fight was discouraging. At last there was a new manoeuvre on the
frigate.
"They are making desperate efforts over there," commented the Colonel.
"Yes," exclaimed Captain Payne, who was also closely watching the
_Delaware_, "they are placing their biggest gun in the stern, right
behind the mizzen-mast. Our fire has destroyed the railing and you can
see what they are at."
"Good Lord! to rake us with their big ball as a parting salute," was
Osborne's comment. "But we'll be even with them," and he hurried forward
to give his command.
"That gun must be disabled at any cost," he yelled to his men, and with
another shout they tried to do his bidding.
That the _Delaware_ was determined to carry out her plans was evident.
With her stern to her foe, her men were taking in sail to diminish the
intervening distance and make the shot more telling.
"If they would only let us get within musket range," suggested Captain
Payne.
"We might reach her now," exclaimed Sir George. "Give the order,
Captain. Having once fired that d----d cannon they will put on sail
again."
By Captain Osborne's order half a dozen balls whirled away from the
muzzles of the forward guns, simultaneously with the crash of the
musketry. Through his glass, Sir George saw a gunner at the big cannon
fall, while the main deck of the frigate was torn up by the cannonading.
But the big gun was still uninjured, and the _Delaware_ had its revenge.
Another seaman stepped into place and put a match to the magazine. Then
with terrible force the huge ball crashed above water mark into the prow
of the _North King_.
A yell could be heard from the Americans, for they saw the damage they
had done; but as another broadside from the liner smashed into their
rigging, they hoisted full sail again and gradually swept out of range.
The exasperating effects of slow sailing could not be helped; and the
battle being over, attention was directed to the dead and wounded, and
the damage done.
How much the _Delaware_ was injured it was impossible to tell, for she
did not return to the attack. Steadily the distance increased between
the two ships, and before night came, the last trace of the frigate was
discerned from the mast head, disappearing over the horizon.
Much against her will Helen had remained in her stateroom during the
whole of the contest. She had not appeared on deck that day when the
_Delaware_ was first seen, and the order to clear the decks given. After
the battle, however, she went to the prow of the boat with Harold, in
time to see the clipper's heels gradually disappearing.
"Are you glad it is over?" he asked, as he slipped his arm around her.
"I suppose I should be," was her answer, fixing her eyes on the distant
frigate, "but I don't know that I am. It was audacious for a little
thing like that to attack a big war vessel like the _North King_. They
have killed some of our men, too; a pity you didn't give them a
thrashing. Perhaps you couldn't?"
"Why, Helen, what a fighter you are!"
"I came by it naturally, I suppose." This time she laughed. "If the
feeling had not been inherited, perhaps I would not have been willing to
have come with you at all."
"And now you cannot turn back even if you want to."
"But, dearie, I don't and never did."
"Not even when the enemy were killing our men?" he asked, looking
earnestly into her eyes.
"No, not even then," she said; "but I think Sir George might have let me
come on deck."
"And expose the only lady we've got, and she my wife, to the hellish
dangers of battle. No, indeed, my dear. What do you take us for?"
"If we have another fight I'll ask him," was her answer.
"And I suppose you think he will consent?"
But there were no more battles, in that voyage at least.
The wounded men progressed favorably, considering that there was no
regular surgeon on the ship; and by the time they reached port they were
almost well again--ready to be transferred to the military hospital as
convalescents.
Christmas was over, and the New Year had arrived, before they passed
Sable Island. But on the next day, they were in the long harbor, and
passing McNab, they saw in the distance the little city of Halifax.