We have great Hopes of not seeing the Inside of a French Prison,
but we are disappointed.
"Well, Tom, this is a bad job," said Bramble to me, taking his seat upon
the hencoop aft. "By to-morrow noon, unless we fall in with a
cruiser--and I see little chance of that--we shall be locked up in a
French prison; ay, and Heaven knows how long we may stay there! What's
to become of poor little Bessy? I'm sure I don't know. I must contrive
to write over to lawyer Wilson, and put him in charge of everything. But
I'm sorry for you, my poor lad; it's hard for you to be locked up,
perhaps for years, when you might have been making money for yourself."
"Well, it can't be helped, father; we must make the best of it," replied
I, with a deep sigh, for I was anything but happy at the prospect.
"If it had not been for that swaggering coward this might not have
happened," replied Bramble. "It's somewhat my own fault. I was so
anxious to frighten him about nothing that at last I run us into real
danger, and I might have known that he never would have fought, although
I certainly had no idea of falling in with a privateer. Well, Tom, we
must not lose a chance."
[Illustration: BRAMBLE AND JACK CARRIED INTO A FRENCH PORT.--Marryat,
Vol X. p. 331.]
"How do you mean?"
"I mean that if there is any possibility of getting away, I shall; and
you, of course, will not stay behind. I don't know where they are going
to, but you see, Tom, our only chance of getting off is while we are on
the coast; if once we are marched into the interior, why, then it will
be almost hopeless. What we must try for is to get away at the port
where we land. We shall see."
"I am afraid that there's very little chance for us," replied I; "but
I'm ready to attempt anything."
"We shall see, Tom--where there's a will there's a way. However, it's no
use talking about it just now." Here Bramble filled his pipe, took out
his flint and steel, and lighted it.
After smoking for ten minutes, during which I stood by him, he said, "I
wonder where they will take us to--St. Malo's or Morlaix; for the course
they are steering will fetch, I should think, thereabout. One thing is
certain--they've got a good prize, and they mean to keep it if they can;
and, my eyes! if they won't make a fuss about it! A ship with twelve
guns taken by a lugger with only six! They'll make the ship mount
eighteen or twenty guns, and have a hundred and fifty men on board, and
they'll swear they fought us for three hours. They have something to
boast of, that's certain; and I suspect that French captain is a brave
sort of chap, from the sneer he gave when our cowardly English lubber
gave him so fine a speech. Well, it's our disgrace!"
Here Bramble was silent for some time, when I said to him, "You were
stating to the men how a Leith smack beat off a privateer the other day.
I never heard of it."
"Yes, I heard it when I was up above Greenwich. I met an old friend who
was on board of her, for he took his passage in her from London.
"'Why,' says he to me, 'Bramble, I thought we never should have got away
from the river, for the old captain, who was as big round as a puncheon,
and not unlike one, declared that he would not sail until the powder
came up from Woolwich; for the "Queen Charlotte" (that was the name of
the smack) carried six eighteen-pound carronades. We waited nearly a
week for the powder, and many a laugh we all had about it, thinking old
Nesbitt was not much of a fighter, from his making so much fuss. Well,
at last we boomed her off from the wharf, and about seven that night got
clear of the Thames; it was a fair breeze all night, and we ran through
the Swin by the lead, which is what every one won't attempt. Next
morning we were off Yarmouth Roads, with the water as yellow as pea
soup: never saw it otherwise, and I'm an old collier; reason why, the
swells of the ocean thrashes up the sands off there--ay, and shifts them
too occasionally, which is of more consequence. Well, Bramble,' says he,
'well, on we went; hauled in through Harborough Gut; then the sun had so
much power--for it was in the Dog Days--that it eat up the wind, and we
were obliged to content ourselves with getting four knots out of her.
Just as we made the Dudgeon Lightboat, old Nesbitt's son comes aft to
his father, who was steering the craft, and says, "Father, do you see
that 'ere brig crowding all sail after us? I think it be the New Custom
House brig trying his rate of sailing with us."
"'"Never you mind what she is, boy," says the captain, "but away up and
furl the gaff-topsail."
"'Meanwhile the brig overhauled us fast, and old Nesbitt kept a-looking
round at her every two or three minutes. At last he says to the mate,
"Take the wheel a bit," and he goes first and looks over the quarter.
"I see," says he; "I say, you sergeant and corporal" (for we had a
recruiting party on board), "suppose now you just help us to load our
guns and work them a little, for I expect this here craft will give us
plenty to do."
"'Well, Bramble, as I stand here, if six of them lobsters didn't say
nothing, but just walk down below; but the sergeant was a trump of a
fellow, and so was his wife. He threw off his coat and cap covered with
ribbons, tied a handkerchief round his head, and set to work with a
will; and his wife backed him to the last, handing the powder and
everything else. Well, we had with us ten men who all stood to guns; but
the passengers went down below with the soldiers. Well, on comes the
brig upon our starboard quarter as if to board; all her fore rigging,
and forechains, and forecastle being full of men as bees in a swarm.
"Are you all ready, my men?" said the captain.
"Yes, all ready, sir."
"Yes, and I be ready too, massa!" cried the black cook, bringing out
from the caboose the red-hot poker.
"Well, then, up on the wind with her, and fire when the guns bear."
"'The men kept their eyes on the guns; and when they cried "Fire!" the
cook set them all off, one after another, with the hot poker, and no
small mischief did these three guns do. His forecastle was cleared of
men in no time; down came his gaff and foretopsail, and being now right
on our beam, he put his helm up to lay us on board; but we were too
quick for him--we wore round too, and gave him the three other guns,
which did him no good.
[Illustration: THE LEITH SMACK AND THE PRIVATEER.--Marryat, Vol. X., p.
335.]
"'Well, he came after us on the other tack, and pelted us with musketry
in a cruel way. The mate was hit in the head, and taken down below;
and poor old Nesbitt, who was at the wheel, steering the craft
beautifully, had a bullet right into his bow-window, as they call it.
"Well," the old fellow says, "here's a shot between wind and water, I
reckon--we must have a plug;" so he puts his flippers into his
waistband, and stuffs his flannel jacket into the hole. Then we throws
her up in the wind again, and rakes him with our three guns well into
him, and carries away more of his gear, and stops his sailing--and so we
goes on for a whole hour and thirty-five minutes; and, to make a long
story short, we beat him off, and he turned tail and ran for it with
both pumps going.'
"Now you see, Tom, that's the account of the affair given to me by a man
who I can trust; and there you see what can be done if men are resolute
and determined to fight. Some little difference between that affair and
this one, Tom."
"Did old Nesbitt die or recover?"
"I asked that question. He was doing well when my friend left. Somehow
or another no vital part was injured, and he has had many presents made
him for his gallant conduct, and the sergeant was well rewarded also.
Well, my pipe's out, and it's not far from midnight; I should think we
may just as well try for a little sleep, Tom, for perhaps we may not get
any for some time to come."
Bramble coiled himself up under the bulwark, I did the same; and in a
few minutes we both had forgotten whether we were in our beds at our
house at Deal or prisoners bound for the French coast.
At daylight the next morning Bramble roused me up.
"Here we are now, Tom! here's the French coast not four leagues from us;
but it's hazy, and I cannot make it out very clear; however, the sun
will soon drive all this away, and we shall have a fine day; but the
wind has gone down, and I think we shall have still less of it."
And so it proved; for, as the sun rose, the wind became very light, so
that we did not go through the water more than three knots. We were
looking at the coast, when the report of a gun saluted our ears. It was
from the privateer. We turned to that quarter, and found that there was
a cutter about two miles from the privateer, crowding all sail toward
us.
"Tom!" cried Bramble, "there's a chance for us yet--that's an English
privateer, and she will try to retake us for the sake of the salvage.
But here's a boat coming from the Frenchman--what can that be for?"
The boat rowed alongside of us, and out jumped the captain of the French
privateer with twenty of his best men, and the boat was then dropped
astern.
The Frenchman immediately cast loose the guns, went down for the powder,
and prepared for action.
"I see, Tom," said Bramble, "he's a clever fellow, this skipper. He
knows that this ship and cargo is worth a dozen of his little privateer,
and his object is to get her in--so he's come with all his best men on
board of us, leaving his first officer to make the best fight with the
privateer that he can. Well, he's right; and if it wasn't that I don't
like to go to prison, I wish he may succeed, for he has got sense as
well as courage, I think."
The ship was now kept away two points more, that she might go through
the water as fast as she could; and in the meantime the action commenced
between the English cutter and the French privateer, the latter
evidently attempting to cripple the masts and rigging of the former. The
cutter, however, steered right for us, and evidently came up fast; the
French privateer, weak-handed as she must have been, behaved very well,
throwing herself across the cutter's bows, and doing everything she
could to prevent her coming up with us. Both vessels were very much cut
up before the cutter came within three cables' lengths of us, when the
French captain ordered French colors to be hoisted, and, rounding to,
poured in a well-directed broadside, which quite astonished the English
privateer, who imagined that we were an unarmed merchantman. The action
now became very warm; we standing on, and every now and then rounding to
and raking the cutter, while the French privateer engaged her broadside
to broadside. The French captain was abaft, giving his orders with the
greatest coolness and ability, when a shot from the cutter came in on
deck, and a large splinter which it tore off knocked him down on his
back. Bramble and I both ran to him and helped him up--we could not help
it, although he was an enemy. He was not hurt, and as soon as he was on
his legs he laughed, and thanked us in French. The cutter still
continued the fight until we were within three miles of the coast, when,
all her spars and sails being cut to pieces, she hauled to the wind and
stood out to the offing.
"Well, Tom, there's all our hopes ended," said Bramble; "so now I'll
light my pipe. Well, I say it's been a good fight on both sides."