“If we
Cannot defend our own door from the dog,
Let us be worried; and our nation lose
The name of hardiness, and policy.”
_Henry V._
The combat between the Crisis and _la Dame de Nantes_ took place
in 42.37'.12” north latitude, and 34.16'.43” west longitude, from
Greenwich. This was very near the centre of the northern Atlantic, and
gave us ample time to get our ship in good condition before we drew
in with the land. Shortly after the affair, the wind came out light at
northeast, forcing us down nearer to the Bay of Biscay than was at all
convenient, when bound to London. The weather grew foggy, too, which is
not usual on the coast of Europe, with the wind at east, and the nights
dark. Just a fortnight after the action, I was awakened early one
morning by a rough shake of the shoulder from Marble, who had the watch,
but who was calling me at least an hour before the time. “Bear a hand
and turn out,” he said; “I want you on deck, Mr. Wallingford.” I obeyed,
of course, and soon stood in the presence of the chief-mate, rubbing my
eyes diligently, as if they had to be opened by friction.
It was just six bells, or seven o'clock, and one of the watch was on the
point of making the bell proclaim as much, when Mr. Marble ordered him
not to strike the hour. The weather was thick, or rather foggy, and the
wind light, with very little sea going. All this I had time to notice,
to listen to the unusual order about the bell, and to gape twice, before
the male turned to me. He seized my arm, carried me on the lee side
of the quarter-deck, shook his finger at a vacant spot in the fog, and
said--
“Miles, my boy, down yonder, within half a mile of this very spot, is
our friend the Frenchman!”
“How is it possible you can know that, Mr. Marble?” I demanded in
surprise.
“Because I have seen him, with these two good-looking eyes of mine. This
fog opens and shuts like a playhouse-curtain, and I got a peep at the
chap, about ten minutes since. It was a short look, but it was a sure
one; I would swear to the fellow in any admiralty court in Christendom.”
“And what do you intend to do, Mr. Marble? We found him a hard subject
in clear weather; what can we do with him in thick?”
“That depends on the old man; his very natur' is overlaid by what
has happened already, and I rather think he will be for a fresh
skrimmage”--Marble was an uneducated Kennebunk man, and by no means
particular about his English. “There'll be good picking in that French
gentleman, Master Miles, for those who come in at the beginning of the
plunder!”
The chief-mate then told me to go below and turn up all hands, making as
little rumpus about it as possible. This I did; and when I returned
to the deck, I found the fingers of Marble going again, with Captain
Williams for his auditor, just as they had gone to me, a few minutes
earlier. Being an officer, I made no scruples about joining the party.
Marble was giving his account of the manner in which he had momentarily
seen the enemy, the canvass he was under, the course he was steering,
and the air of security that prevailed about him. So much, he insisted
he had noted, though he saw the ship for about twenty seconds only. All
this, however, might be true, for a seaman's eye is quick, and he has
modes of his own for seeing a great deal in a brief space of time.
Marble now proposed that we should go to quarters, run alongside of the
Frenchman, pour in a broadside, and board him in the smoke. Our success
would be certain, could we close with him without being seen; and
it would be almost as certain, could we engage him with our guns by
surprise. The chief-mate was of opinion we had dosed him in the other
affair, in a way to sicken him; this time we should bring him to with a
round turn!
The “old man” was pleased with the notion, I saw at a glance; and I
confess it took my fancy also. We all felt very sore at the result
of the other attempt, and here it seemed as if fortune gave us a good
occasion for repairing the evil.
“There can be no harm in getting ready, Mr. Marble,” the captain
observed; “and when we are ready ourselves we shall know better what to
think of the matter.”
This was no sooner said, than away we went to clear ship. Our task was
soon done; the tompions were got out, the guns cast loose, ammunition
was brought up, and a stand of grape was put in over the shot in every
piece in both batteries. As the men were told the motive, they worked
like dray-horses; and I do not think we were ten minutes before the ship
was ready to go into action, at a moment's notice.
All this time, Captain Williams refused to keep the ship away. I believe
he wanted to get a look at our neighbour himself, for he could not but
foresee what might be the consequences, should he run down in the fog,
and engage a heavier vessel than his own, without the ceremony of a
hail. The sea was covered with Englishmen, and one of their cruisers
might not very easily pardon such a mistake, however honestly made. But
preparation seems to infer a necessity for performance. When everything
was ready, all eyes were turned aft in a way that human nature could
hardly endure, and the captain was obliged to yield. As Marble, of all
on board, had alone seen the other vessel, he was directed to conn the
Crisis in the delicate operation she was about to undertake.
As before, my station was on the forecastle. I had been directed to
keep a bright look-out, as the enemy would doubtless be first seen from
forward. The order was unnecessary, however, for never did human beings
gaze into a fog more anxiously, than did all on board our ship on this
occasion. Calculating by the distance, and the courses steered, we
supposed ten or fifteen minutes would bring us square alongside of Mr.
Marble's ship; though some among us doubted his having seen any vessel
at all. There was about a five-knot breeze, and we had all our square
sails set, knowing it was necessary to go a little faster than our
adversary, to catch up with him. The intense expectation, not to say
anxiety, of such a scene, is not easily described. The surrounding fog,
at times, seemed filled with ships; but all vanished into _thick_ air,
one after another, leaving nothing but vapour. Severe orders had been
given for no one to call out, but, the moment the ship was seen, for
the discoverer to go aft and report. At least a dozen men left their
quarters on this errand, all returning in the next instant, satisfied
they had been deceived. Each moment, too, increased the expectation; for
each moment must we be getting nearer and nearer to her, if any vessel
were really there. Quite twenty minutes, however, passed in this manner,
and no ship was seen. Marble continued cool and confident, but the
captain and second-mate smiled, while the people began to shake their
heads, and roll the tobacco into their cheeks. As we advanced, our own
ship luffed by degrees, until we had got fairly on our old course again,
or were sailing close upon the wind. This change was made easily, the
braces not having been touched; a precaution that was taken expressly to
give us this advantage. When we found ourselves once more close upon
the wind, we gave the matter up forward, supposing the mate had been
deceived. I saw by the expression of the captain's face that he was
about to give the order to secure the guns, when, casting my eyes
forward, there was a ship, sure enough, within a hundred yards of us!
I held up both arms, as I looked aft, and luckily caught the captain's
eye. In an instant, he was on the forecastle.
It was easy enough to see the stranger now. There he was in the
fog, looking mystical and hazy; but there he was, under his
main-top-gallant-sail, close-hauled, and moving ahead in all the
confidence of the solitude of the ocean. We could not see his hull, or
so faintly as only to distinguish its mass; but from his tops up,
there was no mistaking the objects. We had shot away the Frenchman's
mizen-royal-mast. It was a pole, and there the stump stood, just as it
was when we had last seen him on the evening of the day of the combat.
This left no doubt of the character of our neighbour, and it at once
determined our course. As it was, we were greatly outsailing him, but
an order was immediately given to set the light staysails. As Captain
Williams passed aft, he gave his orders to the men in the batteries.
In the mean time, the second-mate, who spoke very good New York French,
came upon the forecastle, in readiness to answer the expected hail. As
the Crisis was kept a little free, in order to close, and as she sailed
so fast, it was apparent we were coming up with the chase, hand over
hand.
The two ships were not more than a hundred feet asunder when
the Frenchmen first saw us. This blindness was owing to several
circumstances. In the first place, ten men look forward in a ship,
where one looks aft. Those who looked aloft, too, were generally on
the quarter-deck, and this prevented them from looking astern. Then the
Frenchman's crew had just gone to their breakfasts, most of them eating
below. She was so strong-handed, moreover, as to give a forenoon's watch
below, and this still left many of the sluggards in their hammocks. In
that day, even a French ship-of-the-line was no model of discipline or
order, and a letter-of-marque was consequently worse. As it afterwards
appeared, we were first seen by the mate of the watch, who ran to the
taffrail, and, instead of giving an order to call all hands, he hailed
us. Mr. Forbank, our second-mate, answered; mumbling his words so, that,
if they were bad French, they did not sound like good English. He got
out the name “Le Hasard, de Bordeaux,” pretty plainly, however; and this
served to mystify the mate for a few seconds. By the end of that time,
our bows were doubling on the Frenchman's quarter, and we were sheering
into him so fast as quite to distract the Nantes man. The hail had been
heard below, however, and the Frenchmen came tumbling up by the dozen,
forward and aft.
Captain Williams was a prime seaman, and one of the coolest men that
ever lived. Everything that day was done at precisely the proper moment.
The Frenchman attempted to keep off, but our wheel was so touched as to
keep us lapping in nearly a parallel line with them, the whole time; and
our forward sails soon becalmed even their mainsail. Of course we
went two feet to their one. Marble came on the forecastle, just as our
cat-head was abreast of “The Lady's” forward-rigging. Less than a minute
was required to take us so far forward, and that minute was one of great
confusion among the French. As soon as Marble got on the forecastle, he
made a signal, the ensign was run up, and the order was given to fire.
We let fly all five of our nine-pounders, loaded with two round and a
stand of grape, at the same moment. At the next instant, the crash of
the ships coming foul of each other was heard. Marble shouted “Come on,
boys!” and away he, and I, and Neb, and all hands of us, went on board
of the Frenchman like a hurricane. I anticipated a furious hand to hand
conflict; but we found the deck deserted, and had no difficulty whatever
in getting possession. The surprise, the rush, and the effect of the
broadside, gave us an easy victory. The French captain had been nearly
cut in two by a nine-pound shot, moreover, and both of the mates were
severely wounded. These accidents contributed largely to our success,
causing the enemy to abandon the defence as hopeless. We had not a soul
hurt.
The prize proved to be the ship I have mentioned, a letter-of-marque,
from Guadaloupe, bound to Nantes. She was a trifle larger than the
Crisis, mounted twelve French nines, and had eighty-three souls on board
when she sailed. Of these, however, no less than twenty-three had been
killed and wounded in our previous affair with her, and several were
absent in a prize. Of the wounded, nearly all were still in their
hammocks. Among the remainder, some sixteen or eighteen suffered by our
close and destructive broadside on the present occasion, reducing the
efficient part of her crew to about our own numbers. The vessel was
new and valuable, and her cargo was invoiced at something like sixty
thousand dollars, having some cochineal among it.
As soon as assured of our victory, the Crisis's main-top-sail was braced
aback, as well as it could be, and her helm put down. At the same time,
the Dame was kept away, and the two ships went clear of each other.
Little injury had been done by the collision, or the grinding; and, in
consequence of our guns having been so much shotted, no damage whatever
was done the lower masts of the prize. The shot had just force enough to
pass through the bulwarks, make splinters, and to lodge. This left both
vessels in good condition for going into port.
At first it was determined to leave me in _la Dame de Nantes,_ as
prize-master, with directions to follow the Crisis into Falmouth,
whither she was bound for orders. But, on further examination, it was
discovered that the crew of an American brig was on board the prize as
prisoners; _la Dame de Nantes_ having captured the vessel only two days
before we met the former the first time, taken out her people, manned
her, and ordered her for Nantes. These Americans, including the master
and two mates, amounted to thirteen souls in all, and they enabled us
to make a different disposition of the prize. The result of an hour or
two's deliberations was as follows:
Our old second-mate, whose hurt was likely to require better care than
could be had on the North-west Coast, was put on board the French ship
as prize-master, with orders to make the best of his way to New York.
The master and chief-mate of the American brig agreed to act under him,
and to assist in carrying _la Dame_ across the ocean. Three or four
of our invalids were sent home also, and the liberated Americans took
service for the passage. All the French wounded were left in the ship,
under the charge of their own surgeon, who was a man of some little
merit, though a good deal of a butcher, as was too much the fashion of
that day.
It was dark before all the arrangements were made, when _la Dame de
Nantes_ turned short round on her heel, and made sail for America. Of
course our captain sent in his official report by her, and I seized a
moment to write a short letter to Grace, which was so worded as to be
addressed to the whole family. I knew how much happiness a line from me
would bestow, and I had the pleasure to inform them, also, that I was
promoted to be second-mate--the second-mate of the American brig having
shipped as my successor in the rank of third-officer.
The parting on the wide ocean, that night, was solemn, and, in some
respects, sad. We knew that several who were in _la Dame de Nantes_
would probably be left behind, as she travelled her long, solitary
path, in the depths of the ocean; and there were the chances that she,
herself, might never arrive. As respects the last, however, the odds
were in her favour, the American coast being effectually cleared of
French privateers by that time; and I subsequently received eleven
hundred and seventy-three dollars for my share in that exploit. How I
was affected by the circumstance, and what I did with the money, will
appear in the sequel.
The Crisis made sail on a bowline, at the same moment her prize filled
away for America; Miles Wallingford a much more important personage than
he had been a few hours before. We put the prisoners below, keeping a
good watch over them, and hauled off to the northward and westward, in
order to avoid any French cruisers that might be hovering on their own
coast. Captain Williams seemed satisfied with the share of glory he had
obtained, and manifested no further disposition to seek renown in arms.
As for Marble, I never knew a man more exalted in his own esteem, than
he was by the results of that day's work. It certainly did him great
credit; but, from that hour, woe to the man who pretended to dispute
with him concerning the character of any sail that happened to cross our
path.
The day after we parted company with our prize, we made a sail to the
westward, and hauled up to take a look at her, the wind having shifted.
She was soon pronounced to be an American; but, though we showed our
colours, the stranger, a brig, manifested no disposition to speak us.
This induced Captain Williams to make sail in chase, more especially
as the brig endeavoured to elude us by passing ahead, and the run was
pretty nearly on our course. At 4, P. M. we got near enough to throw a
nine-pound shot between the fellow's masts, when the chase hove-to, and
permitted us to come up. The brig proved to be the prize of _la Dame
de Nantes_, and we took possession of her forthwith. As this vessel was
loaded with flour, pot and pearl ashes, &c., and was bound to London, I
was put in charge of her, with a young man of my own age, of the name of
Roger Talcott, for my assistant, having six men for my crew. Of course
the Frenchmen, all but one who acted as cook and steward excepted, were
received on board the Crisis. Neb went with me, through his own and my
earnest entreaties, though spared by Marble with great reluctance.
This was my first command; and proud enough did I feel on the occasion,
though almost dying with the apprehension of doing something wrong. My
orders were, to make the Lizard light, and to crawl along up-channel,
keeping close in with the English coast; Captain Williams anticipating
instructions to go to the same port to which the Amanda (the brig) was
bound, and expecting to overtake us, after he had called at Falmouth
for his orders. As the Crisis could go four feet to the Amanda's three,
before sunset our old ship was hull down ahead of us.
When I took charge of the deck the next morning, I found myself on the
wide ocean, with nothing in sight, at the age of eighteen, and in the
enemy's seas, with a valuable vessel to care for, my way to find into
narrow waters that I had never entered, and a crew on board, of whom
just one-half were now on their first voyage. Our green hands had
manifested the aptitude of Americans, and had done wonders in the way of
improvement; but a great deal still remained to be learned. The Crisis's
complement had been too large to employ everybody at all sorts of work,
as is usually done in a merchant-vessel with her ordinary number of
hands and the landsmen had to take their chances for instruction.
Notwithstanding, the men I got were stout, healthy, willing and able to
pull and haul with the oldest salts.
By the arrangement that had been made, I was now thrown upon my own
resources. Seamanship, navigation, address, prudence, all depended on
me. I confess I was, at first, nearly as much depressed by the novelty
and responsibility of my command, as Neb was delighted. But it is
surprising how soon we get accustomed to changes of this sort. The first
five or six hours set me quite at my ease, though it is true nothing
occurred in the least out of the usual way; and, by the time the sun
set, I should have been happy, could I have got over the uneasiness
produced by the darkness. The wind had got round to south-west, and blew
fresh. I set a lower and a top-mast studding-sail, and by the time the
light had entirely vanished, the brig began to drag after her canvass in
a way to keep me wide awake. I was at a loss whether to shorten sail
or not. On the one hand, there was the apprehension of carrying away
something; and, on the other, the fear of seeming timid in the eyes of
the two or three seamen I had with me. I watched the countenances of
these men, in order to glean their private sentiments; but, usually,
Jack relies so much on his officers, that he seldom anticipates evils.
As for Neb, the harder it blew, the greater was his rapture. He appeared
to think the wind was Master Miles's, as well as the ocean, the brig,
and himself. The more there was of each, the richer I became. As for
Talcott, he was scarcely as good a seaman as myself, though he was
well-educated, had good manners, was well-connected, and had been my
original competitor for the office of third-mate. I had been preferred
only through the earnest recommendations of Marble. Talcott, however,
was as expert a navigator as we had in the ship, and had been placed
with me on that account; Captain Williams fancying two heads might prove
better than one. I took this young man into the cabin with me, not only
as a companion, but to give him consideration with the people forward.
On shore, though less fortunate in the way of state, he would have been
considered as fully my equal in position.
Talcott and myself remained on deck together nearly the whole of the
first night and the little sleep I did get was caught in a top-mast
studding-sail that lay on the quarterdeck, and which I had determined
not to set, after rowsing it up for that purpose. When daylight
returned, however, with a clear horizon, no increase of wind, and
nothing in sight, I was so much relieved as to take a good nap until
eight. All that day we started neither tack nor sheet, nor touched a
brace. Towards evening I went aloft myself to look for land, but without
success, though I knew, from our observation at noon, it could not be
far off. Fifty years ago the longitude was the great difficulty with
navigators. Both Talcott and myself did very well with the lunars, it is
true; but there was no chance to observe, and even lunars soon get out
of their reckoning among currents and tides. Glad enough, then, was I to
hear Neb sing but “Light ahead!” from the fore-top-sail-yard. This was
about ten o'clock. I knew this light must be the Lizard, as we were too
far to the eastward for Scilly. The course was changed so as to bring
the light a little on the weather-bow; and I watched for its appearance
to us on deck with an anxiety I have experienced, since, only in the
most trying circumstances. Half an hour sufficed for this, and then I
felt comparatively happy. A new beginner even is not badly off with
the wind fresh at south-west, and the Lizard light in plain view on
his weather-bow, if he happen to be bound up-channel. That night,
consequently, proved to be more comfortable than the previous.
Next morning there was no change, except in the brig's position. We were
well in the channel, had the land as close aboard as was prudent, and
could plainly see, by objects ashore, that we were travelling ahead at a
famous rate. We went within a mile of the Eddystone, so determined was
I to keep as far as possible from the French privateers. Next morning we
were up abreast of the Isle of Wight; but the wind had got round to the
southward and eastward, becoming much lighter, and so scant as to bring
us on a taut bowline. This made England a lee-shore, and I began to be
as glad to get off it, as I had lately been to hug it.
All this time, it will easily be understood that we kept a sharp
look-out, on board the brig, for enemies. We saw a great many sail,
particularly as we approached the Straits of Dover, and kept as much
aloof from all as circumstances would allow. Several were evidently
English vessels-of-war, and I felt no small concern on the subject of
having some of my men impressed; for at that period, and for many years
afterwards, ships of all nations that traded with the English lost many
of their people by this practice, and the American craft more than any
other. I ascribed to our sticking so close to the coast, which we did
as long as it was at all safe, the manner in which we were permitted to
pass unnoticed, or, at least, undetained. But, as we drew nearer to the
narrow waters, I had little hope of escaping without being boarded. In
the mean while, we made short stretches off the land, and back again,
all one day and night, working slowly to the eastward. We still met with
no interruption. I was fast getting confidence in myself; handling the
Amanda, in my own judgment, quite as welt as Marble could have done
it, and getting my green hands into so much method and practice, that I
should not have hesitated about turning round and shaping our course
for New York, so far as the mere business of navigating the vessel was
concerned.
The lights on the English coast were safe guides for our movements, and
they let me understand how much we made or lost on a tack. Dungeness was
drawing nearer slowly, to appearances, and I was beginning to look
out for a pilot; when Talcott, who had the watch, about three in the
morning, came with breathless haste into the cabin, to tell me there was
a sail closing with us fast, and, so far as he could make her out in the
darkness, she was lugger-rigged. This was startling news indeed, for it
was almost tantamount to saying the stranger was a Frenchman. I did not
undress at all, and was on deck in a moment. The vessel in chase was
about half a mile distant on our lee-quarter, but could be plainly
enough distinguished, and I saw at a glance she was a lugger. There were
certainly English luggers; but all the traditions of the profession had
taught me to regard a vessel of that particular rig as a Frenchman. I
had heard of privateers from Dunkirk, Boulogne, and various other ports
in France, running over to the English coast in the night, and making
prizes, just as this fellow seemed disposed to serve us. Luckily, our
head was toward the land, and we were looking about a point and a
half to windward of the light on Dungeness, being also favoured with a
flood-tide, so far as we could judge by the rapid drift of the vessel to
windward.
My decision was made in a minute. I knew nothing of batteries, or where
to seek protection; but there was the land, and I determined to make for
it as fast as I could. By keeping the brig a good full, and making
all the sail she could carry, I thought we might run ashore before the
lugger could get alongside us. As for her firing, I did not believe she
would dare to attempt that, as it might bring some English cruiser on
her heels, and France was some hours' sail distant. The fore and mizen
top-gallant-sails were set as fast as possible, the weather-braces
pulled upon a little, the bowlines eased, and the brig kept a rap-full.
The Amanda was no flyer, certainly; but she seemed frightened as much
as we were ourselves, that night. I never knew her to get along so fast,
considering the wind; and really there was a short time when I began to
think she held her own, the lugger being jammed up as close as she could
be. But this was all delusion, that craft coming after us more like a
sea-serpent than a machine carried ahead by canvass. I was soon certain
that escape from such a racer by sailing, was altogether out of the
question.
The land and light were now close aboard us, and I expected every moment
to hear the brig's keel grinding on the bottom. At this instant I caught
a faint glimpse of a vessel at anchor to the eastward of the point, and
apparently distant about a quarter of a mile. The thought struck me that
she might be an English cruiser, for they frequently anchored in such
places; and I called out, as it might be instinctively, “luff!” Neb
was at the helm, and I knew by his cheerful answer that the fellow was
delighted. It was lucky we luffed as we did, for, in coming to the wind,
the vessel gave a scrape that was a fearful admonisher of what would
have happened in another minute. The Amanda minded her helm beautifully,
however, and we went past the nearest land without any further hints,
heading up just high enough to fetch a little to windward of the vessel
at anchor. At the next moment, the lugger, then about a cable's length
from as, was shut in by the land. I was now in great hopes the Frenchman
would be obliged to tack; but he had measured his distance well, and
felt certain, it would seem, that he could lay past. He reasoned,
probably, as Nelson is _said_ to have reasoned at the Nile, and as some
of his captains unquestionably _did_ reason; that is, if there was water
enough for us, there was water enough for him. In another minute I saw
him, jammed nearly into the wind's eye, luffing past the point, and
falling as easily into our wake as if drawn by attraction.
All this time, the night was unbroken by any sound. Not a hail, nor a
call, our own orders excepted, and they had been given in low tones, had
been audible on board the Amanda. As regards the vessel at anchor, she
appeared to give herself no concern. There she lay, a fine ship, and,
as I thought, a vessel-of-war, like a marine bird asleep on its proper
element. We were directly between her and the lugger, and it is possible
her anchor-watch did not see the latter. The three vessels were not more
than half a cable's length asunder; that is, we were about that distance
from the ship, and the lugger was a very little farther from us. Five
minutes must determine the matter. I was on the brig's forecastle,
anxiously examining all I could make out on board the ship, as her size,
and shape, and rig, became slowly more and more distinct; and I hailed--
“Ship ahoy!”
“Hilloa! What brig's that?”
“An American, with a French privateer-lugger close on board me, directly
in my wake. You had better be stirring!”
I heard the quick exclamation of “The devil there is!” “Bloody Yankees!”
came next. Then followed the call of “All hands.” It was plain enough
my notice had set everything in motion in that quarter. Talcott now
came running forward to say he thought, from some movements on board the
lugger, that her people were now first apprised of the vicinity of the
ship. I had been sadly disappointed at the call for all hands on board
the ship, for it was in the manner of a merchantman, instead of that of
a vessel-of-war. But we were getting too near to remain much longer in
doubt. The Amanda was already sweeping up on the Englishman's bows, not
more than forty yards distant.
“She is an English West-Indiaman, Mr. Wallingford,” said one of my
oldest seamen; “and a running ship; some vessel that has deserted or
lost her convoy.”
“Do you _know_ anything of the lugger?” demanded an officer from on
board the ship, in a voice that was not very amicable.
“No more than you see; she has chased me, close aboard, for the last
twenty minutes.”
There was no reply to this for a moment, and then I was asked--“To tack,
and give us a little chance, by drawing him away for a few minutes. We
are armed, and will come out to your assistance.”
Had I been ten years older, experience in the faith of men, and
especially of men engaged in the pursuit of gain, would have prevented
me from complying with this request; but, at eighteen, one views these
things differently. It did appear to me ungenerous to lead an enemy in
upon a man in his sleep, and not endeavour to do something to aid the
surprised party. I answered “ay, ay!” therefore, and tacked directly
alongside of the ship. But the manoeuvre was too late, the lugger coming
in between the ship and the brig, just as we began to draw ahead again,
leaving him room, and getting a good look at us both. The Englishman
appeared the most inviting, I suppose, for she up helm and went on board
of him on his quarter. Neither party used their guns. We were so near,
however, as plainly to understand the whole, to distinguish the orders,
and even to hear the blows that were struck by hand. It was an awful
minute to us in the brig. The cries of the hurt reached us in the
stillness of that gloomy morning, and oaths mingled with the clamour.
Though taken by surprise, John Bull fought well; though we could
perceive that he was overpowered, however, just as the distance, and the
haze that was beginning to gather thick around the land, shut in the two
vessels from our view.
The disappearance of the two combatants furnished me with a hint how
to proceed. I stood out three or four minutes longer, or a sufficient
distance to make certain we should not be seen, and tacked again. In
order to draw as fast as possible out of the line of sight, we kept the
brig off a little, and then ran in towards the English coast, which was
sufficiently distant to enable us to stand on in that direction some
little time longer. This expedient succeeded perfectly; for, when we
found it necessary to tack again, day began to dawn. Shortly after, we
could just discern the West-Indiaman and the lugger standing off the
land, making the best of their way towards the French coast. In 1799, it
is possible that this bold Frenchman got his prize into some of his
own ports, though three or four years later it would have been a nearly
hopeless experiment. As for the Amanda, she was safe; and Nelson did not
feel happier, after his great achievement at the Nile, than I felt at
the success of my own expedient. Talcott congratulated me and applauded
me; and I believe all of us were a little too much disposed to ascribe
to our own steadiness and address, much that ought fairly to have been
imputed to chance.
Off Dover we got a pilot, and learned that the ship captured was the
Dorothea, a valuable West-Indiaman that had stolen away from her convoy,
and come in alone, the previous evening. She anchored under Dungeness at
the first of the ebb, and, it seems, had preferred taking a good night's
rest to venturing out in the dark, when the flood made. Her berth was a
perfectly snug one, and the lugger would probably never have found her,
had we not led her directly in upon her prey.
I was now relieved from all charge of the brig; and a relief I found it,
between shoals, enemies, and the tides, of which I knew nothing. That
day we got into the Downs, and came-to. Here I saw a fleet at anchor;
and a pretty stir it made among the man-of-war's-men, when our story was
repeated among them. I do think twenty of their boats were alongside
of us, to get the facts from the original source. Among others who thus
appeared, to question me, was one old gentleman, whom I suspected of
being an admiral. He was in shore-dress, and came in a plain way; the
men in his boat declining to answer any questions; but they paid him
unusual respect. This gentleman asked me a great many particulars, and
I told him the whole story frankly, concealing or colouring nothing. He
was evidently much interested. When he went away, he shook me cordially
by the hand, and said--“Young gentleman, you have acted prudently and
well. Never mind the grumbling of some of our lads; they think only of
themselves. It was your right and your duty to save your own vessel, if
you could, without doing anything dishonourable; and I see nothing wrong
in your conduct. But it's a sad disgrace to us, to let these French
rascals be picking up their crumbs in this fashion, right under our
hawse-holes.”