The _Benbow_ frigate sailed out of the Bay of Cadiz bound for England.
The wind was fair, the sea smooth, and she carried every stitch of
canvas which could be set, eager to reach her destination, the port of
London. Stephen and Roger walked the deck with her commander, who was
in high spirits at the success of his voyage, for he had secured not
only a good freight out and home, but had received a bag of gold and
other presents from the King of Spain as a testimony to his gallantry.
"And are you two young men willing to continue to sail with me?" he
asked.
"With all my heart," answered Roger promptly. "It has been the earnest
desire of my heart ever since you came into our bay; and long before
that I wished to go to sea, though it mattered but little to me with
whom I should sail. Now I know you, I shall never wish to serve under
another commander."
Captain Benbow smiled at Roger's enthusiasm. "I may hope to keep afloat
for many a year to come, and I am always glad to have those with me who
serve from affection rather than from interest, so you may depend on
having a berth on board whatever ship I may command, and I will never
let the grass grow under the keel if I can help it. And, Master
Battiscombe, what do you say to following sea life?"
"I have not made up my mind for doing so," answered Stephen. "I had no
intention of going afloat till I was appointed supercargo of the
_Dolphin_, and the experience I have had does not tempt me to go again,
though I thank you, sir, for the offer, and am bound to confess that I
would rather serve under you than any other commander."
"Well, well, each man to his taste," said the Captain. "I conclude that
as you have been so long absent from home, and your friends must have
been in great anxiety for your fate, that you would like to land as soon
as possible. Should the weather permit, I will put you on shore either
at the Start or the Bill of Portland. I cannot promise to run in to
West Bay, lest I should be delayed in my passage up channel; may be,
however, we shall fall in with a Torbay fisherman, or some craft bound
to Lyme, which will land you still nearer home."
Roger, on hearing this, was strongly tempted to ask leave to accompany
Stephen, for he longed once more to see his father and uncle, and sweet
Alice and Madam Pauline, but he restrained his feelings; he feared that
should he once leave Captain Benbow it might not be again so easy to
join him. He therefore said nothing on the subject, but applied himself
as diligently as before to improving his knowledge of seamanship and
navigation.
Nothing has been said of Jumbo since he was employed in carrying the
Moors' heads on shore. He had devoted himself to Captain Benbow, and
fully expected to continue in his service. Sam Stokes also had entered
as a seaman on board the _Benbow_ frigate, but he was greatly changed;
he had never been quite himself since they sailed from Cadiz.
"I cannot help thinking of those Moors' heads," he said one day to
Roger, who inquired what was the matter. "Sometimes I see them
dangling, and they taunt me for having deserted the ship when I had
sworn on their Koran to stick to them to the last."
"I am not very well able to say whether you are right or wrong in what
you have done; still I think you were right in escaping from the Moors,
for you would have died a Mohammedan if you had remained with them, and
I hope you will die a Christian," said Roger, who was greatly puzzled to
console poor Sam.
"Cannot say, sir," murmured Sam. "I was a very poor one, or I should
not have turned Moor; even to save my life. There were a good many
other poor fellows who refused to turn, and got cruelly treated in
consequence. It seems to me that I acted like a big coward, when, to
save myself, I agreed to become a Moor, and I should have been served
right if I had never been able to get away from them."
"At all events, you have great reason to be thankful that you did get
away from them," said Roger. "Now, you have to see that you behave
yourself like a Christian man in future."
"I will try," said Sam, gravely. "I wish you would speak to the Captain
and have those heads thrown overboard."
On this it occurred to Roger that the best thing was to tell Captain
Benbow of the hallucination under which Sam was suffering.
"I will soon settle that matter," said the Captain, and he directed one
of the mates to go forward and tell the men that if he ordered them to
heave overboard the Moorish heads ranged on the forecastle, they were to
pretend to do so. Presently he came on deck, and calling Sam aft, asked
how he dared to have allowed those heads to remain on the forecastle.
He then, keeping Sam by him, ordered the men to heave them into the sea,
and not let one remain. They, being prepared, went through the action
of heaving heads overboard. Sam looked on with open eyes and mouth
agape.
"Now, my man," said the Captain, "we have got rid of those Moorish
heads."
"Ay, ay," said Sam, looking over the side to see some of them floating
astern. "I hope we have seen the last of them; it's my belief they have
all gone to the bottom."
After this the _Benbow_ frigate continued her course across the Bay of
Biscay without meeting with any adventure. One day the Captain was
talking over his plans with Stephen. "When I get to London, as soon as
I have discharged my cargo and secured another freight, one of the first
things I shall have to do will be to present myself to King James and
see what notice he is inclined to take of the King of Spain's
recommendation."
"To King James!" exclaimed Stephen. "Why, I was not aware that King
Charles the Second was dead."
"Dead he is though, and, as the Spaniards say, died a true Catholic.
Cannot say it is much to his credit, as he always pretended to his
subjects to be a Protestant, and now that King James, who is more honest
in that respect, acknowledges himself to be a Catholic, the French and
the Spaniards are rejoicing at the thought that England will be turned
back to the old faith, and that the object of the Spanish Armada will be
gained."
"Heaven forbid that such should be the case!" exclaimed Stephen.
"I have no wish for it, and do not believe the people of England will
consent to such a change," remarked the Captain; "but as I am a
tarpaulin, as they call us, I do not trouble myself with affairs on
shore, and it is my business to obey the laws, and do my duty to
whatever king is on the throne."
"I cannot altogether agree with you there," said Stephen. "Our fathers
fought to gain our civil and religious liberty, and it behoves us, their
children, to defend those liberties with our lives."
The Captain shrugged his shoulders, remarking that he had not given his
thoughts to such matters.
The news he had heard made Stephen meditate a great deal, and become
more than ever anxious to return home. At length the Lizard was made,
and the eyes of the adventurers were gladdened with the sight once more
of their native land. The wind being fair, the _Benbow_ frigate soon
afterwards passed the Start, when she came up with a small vessel
running in for the land. The Captain hailed her.
"Where are you bound for?" he asked.
"Lyme," was the answer.
"Heave-to, then, for I have a passenger for you."
"Now, Battiscombe, here is an opportunity if you wish to take advantage
of it."
"Thank you, sir; I will do so," said Stephen.
In another minute his small bag of clothing was got on deck. He thanked
Captain Benbow for all his kindness; he and Roger grasped each other's
hands; they felt the parting more than their words could express.
"Tell them all about me," said Roger; "how much I should have liked to
come home, but that I am bound to the ship and cannot leave Captain
Benbow." He sent many more messages, which need not be repeated.
A boat was lowered, and Stephen was speedily carried on board the
trader, which stood on towards Lyme, too far off then to be perceived,
while the frigate, having hoisted her boat in, continued her course up
channel. The Bill of Portland was soon passed, and the high cliffs of
the Isle of Wight sighted. Before the sun rose the next day, the
_Benbow_ frigate had run through the Straits of Dover, and was about to
haul round the North Foreland, when a heavy north-westerly gale sprang
up, which compelled her quickly to shorten all sail. In vain an attempt
was made to steer for the Downs; the gale increased with such fury that
it became evident that she would run a fearful risk of being driven on
the Goodwin Sands. The ship was stout and well found, and Captain
Benbow still hoped to beat up against the wind; but he was driven
farther and farther from the English coast, while under his lee he had
the dangerous Flemish bank. Few men, however, knew the shoals of that
coast better than he did. Now the ship was put on one tack, now on
another, but on each tack she lost ground.
He might, to be sure, have run for Dunkerque, Ostend, or other places
along the coast, but night was coming on, and to steer in among the
sandbanks was a dangerous undertaking, with the weather so thick and
squally as it then was, and without a pilot; still, unless the _Benbow_
frigate could beat off the coast,--it was one of two alternatives which
remained--she might ride to her anchors, though risk of her dragging
them was very great. Still, as long as her masts and sails remained
uninjured, Captain Benbow resolved to try and keep to sea; a shift of
wind might enable him to gain either the Downs or the Thames. The cool
intrepid way in which Captain Benbow managed his ship excited Roger's
admiration, while the crew, accustomed to confide in his skill, executed
his orders with prompt obedience. When morning at length broke, dark
clouds covered the sky, while leaden seas, capped with foam, rolled up
around them, but no land was in sight to leeward, which showed that they
had not struggled in vain; still the wind was blowing as strong as ever,
and, stiff as was the _Benbow_ frigate, it would have been dangerous to
set more sail; indeed, she was already carrying as much as she could
bear.
"If the gale does not increase we shall do well," observed Captain
Benbow to Roger. "As soon as it moderates we may stand in for the
Thames."
As the Captain had been on deck all night, he now went below to snatch a
short sleep, leaving his first officer in command. Roger was also glad
to turn in, for he could scarcely keep his eyes open. He might have
been asleep for about a couple of hours, when he was awakened by hearing
two loud crashes in rapid succession. He sprang up on deck to discover,
to his dismay, that both mainmast and foremast were gone by the board.
The Captain was already there issuing his orders to clear the wreck, and
to prevent the butts of the masts striking the sides of the ship.
Never, perhaps, before had the _Benbow_ frigate been in greater peril,
and it was more difficult than ever to keep her off the shoals. The
long dark night was coming on, the masts were pounding away against the
sides, having been cut adrift. An effort was made to rig a spar on the
stump of the foremast, so as to keep steerage-way on the ship, the
Captain having resolved to steer for the Scheldt, in which river he
hoped to find safe anchorage. Owing to the way the ship was tumbling
about, some hours passed, however, before the jury-mast could be rigged
and sail set on it. The ship was then kept as much as possible to the
westward, and Captain Benbow expressed a hope that he should be able to
reach the mouth of the river. Before the morning came the wind had
dropped considerably, and had shifted to the southward, whereon the
ship's head was immediately turned in the direction of the Thames. She
had gone but a short distance, when a sail, which had been sighted at
daylight coming from the northward, approached under Dutch colours.
"Mynheers and I have always been friendly, and if yonder vessel has any
spars on board, I doubt not that her Captain will gladly supply us with
anything we want."
The stranger soon drew near, and Captain Benbow having explained his
wants, which were indeed very evident, the Dutch Captain at once offered
not only to furnish him with spars, but, it being almost calm, to send
some of his crew on board to assist in getting them set up. The offer
was too good to be refused. The stranger was the _Elephant_, Captain
Coopman, who, knowing Captain Benbow by reputation, said that he was
delighted to be of service to him. While the two ships lay close
alongside each other, their crews busily engaged with the work in hand,
another ship was approaching, which was not discovered till she was a
couple of miles or so off. Captain Coopman, on observing her, expressed
his astonishment and annoyance.
"She is French," he exclaimed. "By not keeping a proper look-out, I
have allowed myself to be caught."
"But I cannot permit you to be caught by the Frenchman," said Captain
Benbow.
"Thanks, friend," answered the Dutch Captain. "I would willingly not
expose you to an attack from the Frenchman, but I cannot help myself.
See, the wind has fallen completely; it has become a dead calm."
While he was speaking, a boat was seen to put off from the stranger, and
as she approached, it was observed that she was full of armed men.
Captain Benbow, on this, ordered the guns to be loaded and run out, and
directed his men, while the Dutch Captain, going on board his ship,
followed his example. In a short time the stranger was alongside.
Captain Benbow stood at the gangway.
"You are welcome to come on board if you visit us as a friend," he said,
"but I cannot allow you to step on my deck if you approach as an enemy."
"Whither are you bound, and to what nation do you belong?" asked the
stranger.
"I am English," answered Benbow, "and am bound from Cadiz to the Thames.
You, I see by the colours you carry, are French."
"What is the other vessel alongside you?" asked the French Captain.
"She is Dutch, and has delayed her voyage to render me assistance in
getting fresh masts set up, as you will observe, mine having been
carried away in the gale."
"I regret to have to interfere with her, but I must, notwithstanding,
make her my prize," said the French Captain.
"If you make prize of her you must make prize of me," answered Captain
Benbow. "In common gratitude I cannot allow her to be captured while I
have the means of defending her."
"Notwithstanding, I must take her, for I am bound to make prizes of all
Dutch vessels I fall in with," answered the stranger.
"At present, my friend, I think we are more likely to make you and your
boat's crew prisoners," said Captain Benbow. "See, you are under our
guns, and I have only to give the word, and we can sink you in a moment;
however, what do you say to a compromise? You give me your word that
you will let this vessel escape, and I promise not to make prisoners of
you and your boat's crew, which I shall otherwise most certainly do."
"Who are you?" asked the French Captain, standing up in his boat. He
appeared to be in the prime of manhood, and exhibited a tall yet
well-knit figure, and a fine bold handsome countenance.
"John Benbow, at your service," answered the Captain. "May I ask your
name?"
"I am Jean Bart, in the service of the King of France. I am pretty well
known in these seas."
"That indeed you are; a better seaman does not sail out of Dunkerque,"
answered Benbow. "I have often heard of you and your doings, and from
the number of prizes you have taken, I judge that you can afford to let
one go without any loss to your reputation or purse. I tell you frankly
that I am glad of having an opportunity of meeting you."
Captain Bart looked pleased at the compliment paid him.
"Come, my friend," said Captain Benbow, "agree to my proposal. Step on
board; crack a bottle with Captain Coopman and me. Your men shall be
entertained forward, and while the calm lasts you need be in no hurry to
take your departure."
Without further hesitation Captain Bart agreed to the proposal.
"I trust to your honour, Captain Benbow," he said.
"You may rest assured that, as you have given your word to allow the
_Elephant_ to continue her voyage unmolested, you will be able to leave
this ship whenever you desire."
The three Captains were soon seated in the comfortable cabin of the
_Benbow_ frigate. Captain Benbow, having regarded Captain Bart for an
instant, put out his hand, exclaiming, "Why, we served together as lads
for two years or more under Admiral Ruyter--surely I am not mistaken--
and saw a good deal of pretty hard fighting."
"You are perfectly right," answered Captain Bart. "I remained with him
till I was twenty-one and a half years of age, when I returned to my
native town of Dunkerque, not supposing at the time that I should have
to fight against my old friends the Dutch."
"You and I must be about the same age, Captain Bart," observed Benbow,
after they had been comparing notes of certain events which had taken
place.
"I was born in the year 1650," said Bart.
"Very same year that I first saw the light," observed Benbow. "We both
of us have been ploughing the salt water pretty nearly ever since."
"For my part I expect to plough it to the end of my days, as most of my
ancestors have done; for we men of Dunkerque are born seamen, and fond
of the ocean," said Bart.
"And to my belief I am the first of my race that ever went to sea," said
Benbow.
Roger had been an interested listener to the conversation carried on in
English, which Bart spoke remarkably well, as did Captain Coopman.
"Will you tell Captain Bart your adventure with the Moors' heads, sir?"
he said, thinking it would interest their guests.
The other Captain was eager to hear it, and Benbow gave the account, and
told of the wonderful way in which Roger and Stephen had escaped.
"You acted bravely, my young friend," said Captain Bart, turning to
Roger. "It required no small amount of nerve and courage to escape from
the _Tiger_. Those Sallee rovers have become the pest of the ocean. I
hope that my Government will send me in search of them, though for my
part I would rather catch them alive than cut off their heads, as each
Moor fetches a good price as a slave, and very useful well-behaved
servants they make, always provided their tempers are not irritated, and
it is prudent not to allow them to carry arms of any description."
After some time Captain Bart rose to take his leave. His men had, he
found, been hospitably entertained by the crew of the _Benbow_ frigate.
Very loath to quit her, the Frenchmen, embracing their hosts in a most
demonstrative manner, swore eternal friendship, expressing the hope that
England and France would hereafter, as now, remain on friendly terms.
The Dutchmen had of late been suffering too much from the privateers of
Dunkerque to regard the French with any amicable feeling, but wisely
kept on board their own vessel.
"Now, Captain Bart," said Benbow. "I must trust to your honour not to
interfere with our friend here."
"Certainly, certainly," answered Captain Bart, and shaking hands with
his brother Captains, he stepped into his boat, which pulled leisurely
towards his frigate.
"Now, my friend," said Benbow to Captain Coopman, "yonder Frenchman may
be a very honourable person, but it is as well not to trust him more
than we can help. I would advise you to make sail directly it becomes
dark, so that you may put as wide a distance as possible between your
two vessels before to-morrow morning. I will remain here and show my
lights for some time longer, so that he will not know in what direction
you have gone."
The Dutch Captain, considering Benbow's advice sound, promised to follow
it. The calm continued till about half the first watch was over, when a
light breeze sprang up from the northward, thus placing the English and
Dutch vessels to windward of Jean Bart's frigate. The _Elephant_
immediately made all sail, and stood away for the Texel, not allowing a
glimmer of light to proceed from her sides, and Captain Benbow trimmed
his lanterns brighter than ever, and waited for an hour or more, when, a
breeze freshening, he shaped a course for the Thames.
"Come," he said, "we have done a good turn to our Dutch friend; I hope
that he will manage to escape from their clutches."