Conquest pursues, where courage leads the way.
GARTH.
The glasses of Captain M---, and the officers who remained on board of
the frigate, were anxiously pointed towards the boats, which in less
than half an hour had arrived within gunshot of the privateer. "There
is a gun from her," cried several of the men at the same moment, as the
smoke boomed along the smooth water. The shot dashed up the spray under
the bows of the boats, and _ricochetting_ over them, disappeared in the
wave, about half a mile astern.
The boats, which, previously, had been pulling in altogether, and
without any particular order, now separated, and formed a line abreast,
so that there was less chance of the shot taking effect than where they
were before, en masse.
"Very good, Mr Price," observed the captain, who had his eye fixed on
them, through his glass.
The boats continued their advance towards the enemy, who fired her two
long guns, both of which she had brought over to her starboard side,
but, though well directed, the shot did not strike any of her
assailants.
"There's grape, sir," said the master, as the sea was torn and ploughed
up with it close to the launch, which, with the other boats, was now
within a hundred yards of the privateer.
"The launch returns her fire," observed Captain M---.
"And there's blaze away from the pinnace and the barge," cried one of
the men, who stood on the rattlings of the main rigging. "Hurrah, my
lads! keep it up," continued the man, in his feeling of excitement,
which, pervading Captain M---, as well as the rest of the crew, received
no check, though not exactly in accordance with the strict routine of
the service.
The combat now became warm; gun after gun from the privateer was rapidly
fired at the boats, who were taking their stations previous to a
simultaneous rush to board. The pinnace had pulled away towards the bow
of the privateer; the barge had taken up a position on the quarter; the
launch remained on her beam, firing round and grape from her
eighteen-pounder carronade, with a rapidity that almost enabled her to
return gun for gun to her superiorly-armed antagonist. Both the cutters
were under her stern, keeping up an incessant fire of musketry, with
which they were now close enough to annoy the enemy.
"A gun from the rock close to the barge, sir!" reported the signalman.
"I expected as much," observed Captain M--- to the officers standing
near him.
"One of the cutters has winded, sir; she's stretching out for the
shore," cried the master.
"Bravo--that's decided--and without waiting for orders. Who commands
that boat?" inquired Captain M---.
"It's the first cutter--Mr Stewart, sir."
The cutter was on shore before the gun could be reloaded and fired a
second time. The crew, with the officer at their head, were seen to
clamber up the rock! In a minute they returned, and jumping into the
boat, pulled off to give their aid to the capture of the vessel.
"He has spiked the gun, I am certain," observed Captain M---.
Before the cutter could regain her station, the other boats, were
summoned by the bugle in the launch, and, with loud cheering, pulled up
together to the attack. The booms, which had been rigged out to prevent
them from coming alongside, already shot through by the grape from the
launch, offered but little resistance to the impetus with which the
boats were forced against them; they either broke in two, or sank under
water.
"There's _board_--Hurrah!" cried all the men who remained in the
_Aspasia_, cheering those who heard them not.
But I must transport the reader to the scene of slaughter; for if he
remains on board of the _Aspasia_, he will distinguish nothing but fire
and smoke. Don't be afraid, ladies, if I take you on board of the
schooner--"these our actors are all air, thin air," raised by the magic
pen for your amusement. Come, then, fearlessly, with me, and view the
scene of mortal strife. The launch has boarded on the starboard
gangway, and it is against her that the crew of the privateer have
directed their main efforts.
The boarding nettings cannot be divided, and the men are thrown back
wounded or dead, into the boat. The crew of the pinnace are attempting
the bows with indifferent success. Some have already fallen a sacrifice
to their valour--none have yet succeeded in gaining a footing on deck,
while the marines are resisting, with their bayonets, the thrusts of the
boarding pikes which are protruded through the ports. Courtenay has not
yet boarded in the barge, for, on pulling up on the quarter, he
perceived that, on the larboard side of the vessel, the boarding
nettings had either been neglected to be properly triced up, or had been
cut away by the fire from the boats. He has pushed alongside, to take
advantage of the opening, and the two cutters have followed him. They
board with little resistance--the enemy are too busy repelling the
attacks on the other side--and as his men pour upon the privateer's
deck, the crews of the launch and pinnace, tired with their vain
endeavours to divide the nettings, and rendered desperate by their loss,
have run up the fore and main rigging above the nettings, and thrown
themselves down, cutlass in hand into the _melee_ below, careless of the
points of the weapons which may meet them in their descent. Now is the
struggle for life or death!
Courtenay, who was daring as man could be, but not of a very athletic
frame, reclimbed from the main chains of the vessel, into which he had
already once fallen, from one of his own seamen having inadvertently
made use of his shoulder as a step to assist his own ascent. He was
overtaken by Robinson, the coxswain of the cutter, who sprang up with
all the ardour and activity of an English sailor who "meant mischief,"
and, pleased with the energy of his officer (forgetting, at the moment,
the respect due to his rank), called out to him, by the _sobriquet_ with
which he had been christened by the men,--"Bravo, _Little Bilious_!
that's your sort!"
"What's that, sir?" cried Courtenay, making a spring, so as to stand on
the plane-sheer of the vessel at the same moment with the coxswain, and
seizing him by the collar,--"I say, Robinson, what do you mean by
calling me `_Little Bilious_?'" continued the lieutenant, wholly
regardless of the situation they were placed in. The coxswain looked at
him with surprise, and at the same moment parried off with his cutlass a
thrust of a pike at Courtenay, which, in all probability, would
otherwise have prevented his asking any more questions; then, without
making any answer, sprang down on the deck into the midst of the affray.
"You, Robinson, come back," cried Courtenay, after him--"Damned
annoying--_Little Bilious_, indeed!" continued he, as, following the
example of the coxswain, he proceeded to vent his bile, for the present,
on the heads of the Frenchmen.
In most instances of boarding, but more especially in boarding small
vessels, there is not much opportunity for what is termed hand-to-hand
fighting. It is a rush for the deck; breast to breast, thigh to thigh,
foot to foot, man wedged against man, so pressed on by those behind,
that there is little possibility of using your cutlass, except by
driving your antagonist's teeth down his throat with the hilt. Gun-shot
wounds, of course, take place throughout the whole of the combat, but
those from the sabre and the cutlass are generally given and received
before the close, or after the resistance of one party has yielded to
the pertinacity and courage of the other. The crews of the barge and
cutters having gained possession of the deck in the rear of the enemy,
the affair was decided much sooner than it otherwise would have been,
for the French fought with desperation, and were commanded by a most
gallant and enterprising captain. In three minutes, the crew of the
privateer were either beaten below, or forced overboard, and the colours
hauled down from the mast-heads announced to Captain M--- and the rest
of the _Aspasia's_ crew, the welcome intelligence that the privateer was
in the possession of their gallant shipmates. The hatches were secured,
and the panting Englishmen, for a few minutes, desisted from their
exertions, that they might recover their breath; after which Price gave
directions for the cables and hawser to be cut, and the boats to go
ahead, and tow the vessel out.
"They are firing musketry from the shore; they've just hit one of our
men," said the coxswain of the pinnace.
"Then cast off, and bring your gun to bear astern. If you do not hit
them, at least they will not be so steady in their aim. As soon as we
are out of musket-shot, pull out to us."
The order was executed, whilst the other boats towed the privateer
towards the frigate. In a few minutes they were out of musket-shot; the
pinnace returned, and they had leisure to examine into the loss which
they had sustained in the conflict.
The launch had suffered most; nine of her crew were either killed or
wounded. Three seamen and four marines had suffered in the other boats.
Twenty-seven of the privateer's men were stretched on the decks, either
dead or unable to rise. Those who had not been severely hurt had
escaped below with the rest of the crew.
Price was standing at the wheel, his sabre not yet sheathed, with
Courtenay at his side, when his inveterate habit returned, and he
commenced--
"`I do remember, when the fight was done--'"
"So do I, and devilish glad that it's over," cried Jerry, coming forward
from the taffrail with a cutlass in hand, which although he could wield,
he could certainly not have done much execution with.
"Why, how came you here, Mr Jerry?" inquired Courtenay.
"Oh! Stewart brought me in his boat, with the hopes of getting rid of
me; but I shall live to plague him yet."
"You are not hurt, Seymour, I hope?" said Price to our hero, who now
joined the party, and whose clothes were stained with blood.
"No," replied Seymour, smiling. "It's not my blood--it's Stewart's. I
have been binding up his head; he has a very deep cut on the forehead,
and a musket-ball in his neck; but I think neither of the wounds is of
much consequence."
"Where is he?"
"In the cutter. I desired them to put the wounded man in her, out of
the launch, and to pull on board at once. Was not I right?"
"Yes, most assuredly. I should have thought of it myself."
"Well, Jerry," said Seymour, laughing, "how many did you--"
"I did not count them; but if you meet with any chaps with deeper wounds
than usual, put them down to me. Do you know, Mr Price, you are more
indebted to me than you may imagine for the success of this affair?"
"How, Mr Jerry? I should like to know, that I may prove my gratitude;
`eleven out of the thirteen' you paid, I've no doubt."
"It was not altogether that--I frightened them more than I hurt them;
for when they would have returned the blows from this stalwart arm,"
said Jerry, holding out the member in question, which was about the
thickness of a large carrot, "I immediately turned edgeways to them, and
was invisible. They thought that they had to deal with either a ghost
or a magician, and, depend upon it, it unnerved them--"
"`Approach thou like,'--what is it?" resumed Price, "something--`Hence,
horrible shadow, unreal mockery, hence!'"
"Pretty names to be called in reward of my services," cried Jerry. "I
presume this is a specimen of the gratitude you were talking about.
Well, after all, to take a leaf out of your book, Mr Price, I consider
that the better part of valour is discretion. Now, that fellow,
Stewart, he actually gave them his head to play with, and I am not sorry
that he has had it broken--for I calculate that I shall be saved at
least a dozen thrashings by some of his hot blood being let out--`the
King's poor cousin!'"
"By the bye, I quite forgot--where's Robinson, the coxswain of the
cutter?" demanded Courtenay.
"Between the guns forward seriously hurt, poor fellow, I am afraid,"
answered Seymour.
"I'm very sorry for that--I'll go and see him--I wish to speak with
him," replied Courtenay, walking forward.
Robinson was lying near the long brass gun, which was pointed out of the
foremost port, his head pillowed upon the body of the French captain,
who had fallen by his hand, just before he had received his mortal
wound. A musket-ball had entered his groin, and divided the iliac
artery; he was bleeding to death--nothing could save him. The cold
perspiration on his forehead, and the glassy appearance of his eye, too
plainly indicated that he had but a few minutes to live. Courtenay,
shocked at the condition of the poor fellow, who was not only the most
humorous, but one of the ablest seamen in the ship, knelt down on one
knee beside him, and took his hand.
"How do you feel, Robinson? are you in much pain?"
"None at all, sir, thank ye," replied the man, faintly; "but the purser
may chalk me down D.D. as soon as he pleases. I suppose he'll cheat
government out of our day's grub though," continued the man, with a
smile.
Courtenay, aware of the truth of the first observation, thought it no
kindness to attempt to deceive a dying man with hopes of recovery in his
last moments; he therefore continued--"Can I be of any service to you,
Robinson? Is there any thing I can do when you are gone?"
"Nothing at all, sir. I've neither chick nor child, nor relation, that
I know of. Yes, there is one thing, sir, but it's on the bloody side;
the key of the mess chest is in my trousers' pocket--I wish you'd
recollect to have it taken out and given to John Williams; you must wait
till I'm dead, for I can't turn myself just now."
"It shall be attended to," replied Courtenay.
"And, Mr Courtenay, remember me to the captain."
"Is there any thing else?" continued Courtenay, who perceived that the
man was sinking rapidly.
"Nothing--nothing, sir," replied Robinson, very, faintly. "Good-bye,
God bless you, sir; I'm going fast now."
"But Robinson," said Courtenay, in a low soothing voice, bending nearer
to him, "tell me, my good fellow--I am not the least angry--tell me, why
did you call me _Little Bilious_?"
The man turned his eyes up to him, and a smile played upon his features,
as if he was pleased with the idea of disappointing the curiosity of his
officer. He made no answer--his head fell back, and in a few seconds he
had breathed his last.
"Poor fellow--he is gone!" said Courtenay, with a deep sigh, as he rose
up from the body. "Never answered my question, too--Well," continued
he, as he walked slowly aft, "now that's what I consider to be most
excessively annoying."
By this time, the privateer had been towed under the stern of the
frigate, and a hawser was sent on board to secure her astern. Price and
the other officers returned on board, where they were well received by
Captain M---, who thanked them for their exertions. The wounded had
been some time under the hands of Macallan, and fresh crews having been
ordered into the boats, they returned to the privateer. The hatches
were taken off and the prisoners removed to the frigate.
The name of the prize was the _Estelle_, of two hundred tons burthen,
mounting fourteen guns, and having on board, at the commencement of the
attack, her full complement of one hundred and twenty-five men.