THE LAST OF THE _DAMSEL OF LYME_.
WITHIN an hour or so I was up and about, though feeling faint and
dizzy from the result of the struggle. My head was swathed in a
bandage, while a stiffness in my leg revealed the fact that 'twas
bruised from thigh to knee.
Jack Staynton had come off lightly, though an arquebus ball had
ploughed a furrow through his close-cropped hair, and a pike-thrust
had rent his sleeve from elbow to shoulder, where his back-plate had
stopped the steel. Jack had promptly spitted his antagonist with a
rapier, but, as he said, 'twas close enough to suit him.
As for Sir Thomas Slingsby, he fared the worst of all three, for in
addition to the petronel ball that had lodged in his shoulder, a
musket bullet had expended itself against his steel casque
sufficiently hard to render him senseless.
While lying thus, one of the boarders, seemingly out of sheer lust of
cruelty, had run him through the body with a sword. Yet in spite of
these injuries the baronet still breathed, and the Admiral's own
chirurgeon, worthy Master Green, expressed his opinion that Slingsby,
being a hard and clean living man, he stood a fair chance of
recovery. Of the crew of the _Damsel of Lyme_ only nine remained
unscathed. Eleven had fought and died with their faces to the foe,
while the rest of us, all more or less badly wounded, had been
transferred to the already crowded cockpit of the _Ark Royal_.
Then I bethought me of the pinnace. "Jack, where is she?" I asked,
fearful lest he should be compelled to tell me that she had sunk.
"But half a league astern," he replied. "Bear on me and let's on
deck, and you will see her with your own eyes."
With this we made our way over and betwixt broken gear and dismounted
guns that encumbered the deck and gained the shot-shattered bulwarks.
The running fight had ceased. To leeward, sheltering in Calais roads,
lay the bulk of the Great Armada, the large galleons and galeases at
anchor nearest to us, like strong castles fearing no assault, with
the galleys in the middle ward and the pinnaces and flat-bottomed
craft, that were to ferry Parma's army across the Straits, lying
close in shore.
We could see their crews busily engaged in making good the damage
aloft, for we knew that 'twas Medina Sidonia's intention to put to
sea to attack us as soon as this work was done, and that while we
were thus held in play, the Spanish army of well-disciplined veterans
would be embarked and taken across to Dover or Sandwich.
Well to windward of our fleet I perceived a group of small vessels
with their masts shot wholly away, others in a more or less damaged
state, and amongst them I recognised the _Damsel of Lyme_.
The heavy mauling she had received had not marred the graceful sheer
of her hull, but, withal, she was so cruelly punished that I knew she
would never be fit to take her place in action for many a long day,
and I communicated my fears to my trusty comrade.
"Nay, Ralph," he replied, "you'll never stand on her decks again, I
trow. This night the Admiral sends her on her last voyage."
"What say you?" I asked anxiously. "Is she unseaworthy, and must be
got rid of as an encumbrance to the fleet? Alack-a-day, Jack, 'tis
hard."
"She'll be sunk, sure enough, Ralph, but in the midst of the enemy.
Lord Howard has chosen these vessels you see yonder to carry fire
into the midst of those Spaniards yonder. The wind is fair. Each of
these six craft will be smothered in pitch and tar and crammed to the
hatchways with oil, brimstone, sulphur, and what else will take fire
with ease. Captain Young, assisted by Captain Prowse, will steer them
as close to the enemy as they durst, then, setting their vessels on
fire, will trust to wind and tide to bear them into the midst of the
Spaniards' ships."
"Then the _Damsel of Lyme_ is well spared, Jack," I replied.
{Illustration: "WE HAD PLAYED OUR PART." [ p. 295.}
For a few moments I remained lost in thought, then, turning suddenly,
I exclaimed:
"I must take my own pinnace on her last voyage, Jack."
"Nay," he replied, "'tis impossible. You can scarce stand. Besides,
the Lord High Admiral has made all arrangements for the crews of
these vessels."
With that I left him, and, pulling myself together so that my
weakness should not be apparent, I made straight for the cabin of my
Lord Howard of Effingham.
At the door I was met by an officer, who demanded my name and
business, and after a short delay I was ushered into the presence of
the Lord High Admiral.
I found him seated at a table which was covered with charts and plans
and the remains of a hasty meal. Bending over a chart of Calais Roads
were Vice-Admiral Hawkins and Captains Young and Prowse, the two
latter being chosen as first and second in command of the fireships.
"Your business, sir?" asked Lord Howard, for I had only stated to the
officer outside my name and rank.
Briefly I expressed my wish, but to my chagrin the Admiral stopped me
with a gesture.
"Nay, young sir, the matter is already planned out."
"But, my lord!" I exclaimed, "the _Damsel of Lyme_ is my own
craft----"
"Your own craft, sirrah? Know you that in time of war there is no
such thing as So-and-so's ship? If, for example, I, as Lord High
Admiral, chose to destroy one of the ships of the Free Companies of
London for the well-being of the realm, who would dare to say me nay?
Much as I admire your devotion and duty and your proper love for your
command, I cannot go back upon my orders."
With that I thanked my Lord of Effingham and withdrew, sorrowfully
enough in all conscience, for already another was without requesting
an audience.
"'Tis of no avail!" I exclaimed dismally, as I rejoined Jack upon the
quarter-deck.
"Said I not so?" he replied; then, consolingly, he added: "Well,
Ralph, perhaps 'tis for the best, and in any case we can watch and
see how nobly the _Damsel of Lyme_ bears herself to the end."
We remained talking for the space of about five minutes, when a
messenger came up to us requesting me to instantly repair to my Lord
Howard of Effingham's cabin.
"Methinks you may have your wish, Captain Roy, after all," said the
Admiral. "Master Welsh, who was to take the _Damsel of Lyme_, has
been gravely injured whilst engaged in preparing the pinnace for this
night's work. See hither," tapping the chart that lay open before
him, "do you know the approach to Calais Roads?"
"My father was a Royal pilot, my lord----"
"Nay," he exclaimed irritably. "Forbear to discuss the virtues of
your family. Do you know this port?"
"And 'twas he who taught me much concerning the Channel," I
continued, determined not to detract from my parent's knowledge. "I
can truly claim to have a sound cognizance of this coast."
"'Tis well," replied Lord Howard; but far from taking my word alone,
he straightway questioned me concerning the Banc a la Ligne, the
Rouge Riden, the Dunkerque shoals and other dangers lying off the
port of Calais, as well as to the set of the tides at various hours
betwixt the two consecutive high tides.
"That will do, Captain Roy!" he exclaimed. "You can proceed aboard
the _Damsel of Lyme_--your pinnace, mark you--and take your orders
from this gentleman, Captain Prowse."
Overjoyed, I thanked the Admiral and withdrew, feeling almost my
former self already. Ere Captain Prowse left the flagship I sought
his permission to take three of my crew in place of the men already
on board, since they knew the vessel, and would the better carry out
my orders. To this he consented willingly.
"I trust that I may be one of the three," said Jack. "We have been
together in times of storm and danger these five years, so it is meet
that I should share this venture with you."
Without a word I gripped his hand, then, having selected two tried
and trusted men from the survivors of my crew, we entered the
longboat that awaited us.
On board the _Damsel of Lyme_ all preparations for the daring attack
had been completed. She was a veritable floating oil-store, while, in
addition, her three guns were loaded and crammed to their muzzles
with pieces of iron, short lengths of chain, steel bars, and, in
fact, any metal that could be rammed home.
At two hours before midnight we slipped our cables, and, having
passed through the English fleet, formed into a single line, eight
ships in all. Each carried but its foretopsail, except the _Damsel of
Lyme_, which, having lost her topmast, set her fore course only.
Having the wind dead astern and a rising tide, it mattered little
whether the vessels were steered or not, since with this canvas they
kept straight towards their goal.
Ahead we saw the gleam of our foes' poop-lanthorns like the lights of
a vast floating city, for, deeming themselves in perfect security,
the Spaniards took no precautions either to screen them or to send
out row-boats to patrol outside their crowded lines.
Nearer and nearer we drew, still unperceived by our antagonists, till
we were within culverin shot of the outer line of ships.
Just as I was remarking to Jack that 'twas time we were discovered, a
vivid flash leapt from the side of one of the galleons, so that the
rest of the ships were visible as if in the gleam of lightning. The
shot fell wide, passing betwixt us and the pinnace on which was
Captain Young.
Instantly the firing was taken up by the remaining ships that were
lying in a favourable position to use their broadsides, and a storm
of missiles flew all around us, churning up the water and knocking
splinters from our already shattered sides.
To this I paid scant heed, keeping my eyes fixed upon the pinnace
Daisy, from which Captain Prowse was to give the signal to fire the
ships of his command.
"There it goes!" I shouted, as a red light was shown above the
bulwark of the Daisy, which during the last quarter of an hour had
forged somewhat ahead of us. "Into the boats, lads."
Smartly the two men dropped over the poop into a boat that was being
towed astern. Jack waited till I had lighted a brand from a concealed
lanthorn in the cabin. I gave one last look at the place that had
been my home, then, running to the main-hatch, I dropped the flaming
torch into the hold.
For a few rounds it spluttered, the oily tow caught, and a flame shot
up nearly a score feet into the air.
We had played our part. It now remained to save ourselves--if we
could.
Down into the waiting boat we dropped, the painter was severed, and
the four of us, taking an oar apiece, pulled for our lives.
Shots fell thick around us, till the boat was well-nigh filled with
the water they threw up. A roar of exultation burst from the Spanish
ships, for our foes concluded that they had succeeded in setting fire
to their attackers. But ere long their shouts of triumph changed to
cries of terror, when they perceived that the burning was not their
doing, but that eight floating pillars of fire were drifting down
upon them.
We were now fairly safe from the falling shot, so, resting on our
oars, we allowed ourselves to gaze upon the scene of destruction. The
glare of the flames made night as clear as day. The Spaniards,
huddled together so that scarce a vessel had swinging room, were
trying to clap on sail, slipping or cutting their cables as they did
so, at the same time shouting, yelling, and crying out in their
terror like men possessed.
Even in that, to us, magnificent scene I felt impelled by some
irresistible desire to follow the course of the _Damsel of Lyme_.
Sheeted in flame from stem to stern, she bore on as steadily as if
guided by the helm, till her shattered foremast, wreathed with
tongues of fire, went by the board.
Then, filling broadside on to the wind, she dropped alongside two
huge galleons which, in the act of unmooring, had fouled each other.
I could see their frenzied crews trying to ward off the impending
danger, till, scorched by the flames, they withdrew. I seemed to hear
above the roar of the floating furnaces the dull grinding crash as
the pinnace brought up against her victims. There she lay, glowing
fiercely, till the flames had taken full hold upon her giant victims.
Then amid a lurid flash, a smother of sparks, and a dense column of
smoke, the gallant pinnace sank beneath the waves, two proud galleons
of Spain serving as her funeral pyre.
The _Damsel of Lyme_ had made her last voyage.