"Make sail, coachee, and see how many knots you can run off the reel."
The coachman smacked his whip, and away we rattled through the villages
of Knightsbridge, Kensington, and Hammersmith. The coach pulled up at
the "Green Dragon" at the latter place, and some parcels were offered,
but Jack kept his eyes about him, and would not let one be taken on
board. In an authoritative tone he ordered the landlord to bring us out
a tankard of ale, and likewise treated the coachman and guard. As we
knew it would please him, we did not refuse the draughts. He flung the
landlord a sovereign.
"There's payment for you, old boy," he cried out. "Don't mind the
change; and, I say, you may treat as many thirsty fellows as you like
with it. Now drive on, coachee."
Thus Jack went on at each stage, sitting, while the coach was in motion,
with his arms folded, looking as proud as a king on his throne. I
thought at one time that he would have quarrelled with us because we
declined to taste any more of the ale he offered. He was pretty well
half-seas over by the time we arrived at Portsmouth. When he came to
the door to help us out, Nettleship began to thank him.
"I don't want your thanks, young masters," he answered gruffly. "I've
had my spree, and maybe before long I shall be at your beck and call;
but I'm my own master now, and intend to remain so as long as the gold
pieces jingle in my pocket. Maybe I'll have another ride up to London
in a day or two, and if you like the trip, I'll give it you. You may
thank me or not as you like."
Nettleship and I saw that it would be no use saying more, so, wishing
him good evening, we took our way down to the Hard. I turned for a
moment, and saw our friend rolling up the middle of the street with his
hands in his pockets, as proud as the grand bashaw.
A few nights after this Tom Pim and I, having leave on shore, took it
into our heads to go to the theatre. In the front row of seats sat our
friend who had given us so seasonable a lift down from London. The
seats on either side of him were vacant, and when any one attempted to
occupy them he told them to be off. He had taken three seats that he
might enjoy himself. There he was, with his arms folded, looking as if
he thought himself the most important person in the house. There were a
good many more seamen on the other benches,--indeed, the house was more
than half filled with them, some in the pit, others in the upper boxes
and galleries. The play was "The Brigand's Bride." The lady evidently
had a hard time of it, and appeared to be in no way reconciled to her
lot, her great wish being clearly to make her escape. In this attempt
she was aided by a young noble in silk attire, who made his appearance
whenever the brigand, a ferocious-looking ruffian, was absent. The lady
made piteous appeals to the audience for sympathy, greatly exciting the
feelings of many of them, though Tom and I were much inclined to laugh
when we saw the brigand and the lover hob-nobbing with each other behind
a side scene, which, by some mischance, had not been shoved forward
enough. At length the young count and the brigand met, and had a
tremendous fight, which ended in the death of the former, who was
dragged off the stage. Soon afterwards, the lady rushed on to look for
him, and the brigand, with his still reeking sword, was about to put an
end to her existence, when, stretching out her hands, she exclaimed--
"Is there no help for me on earth? Am I, the hapless one, to die by the
weapon of this cruel ruffian?"
"No, that you shan't, my pretty damsel," cried our friend Jack,
forgetting all the stern selfishness in which he had been indulging
himself,--"not while I've got an arm to fight for you."
Just as he was speaking, a dozen of the brigand's followers had appeared
at the back of the stage.
"Hurrah, lads! Boarders! repel boarders!" he exclaimed, starting up.
"On, lads, and we'll soon put this big blackguard and his crew to
flight."
Suiting the action to the word, he sprang over the footlights, followed
by the seamen in the pit. The lady shrieked at the top of her voice,
not at all relishing the interruption to her performance, and far more
afraid of the uproarious seamen than of the robber from whom she had
just before been entreating protection. Bestowing a hearty box on
Jack's ear, she freed herself from his arms, and rushed off the stage,
while the brigand and his companions, turning tail, made their escape.
"Blow me if ever I try to rescue a young woman in distress again, if
that's the way I'm to be treated," cried Jack. "Shiver my timbers, if
she hasn't got hold of that vagabond. There they are, the whole lot of
them, carrying her off. No, it's impossible that she can be wanting to
go with such a set of villains. On, lads! on! and we'll soon drive them
overboard, and just bring her back to learn what she really wants."
Saying this, Jack, followed by a score of seamen, rushing up the stage,
disappeared behind the side scenes. We heard a tremendous row going on
of mingled cries and shouts and shrieks. Presently the seamen returned,
dragging with them the perfidious heroine, and well-nigh a dozen of the
brigands whom they had captured. In vain the latter protested that they
were not really brigands, but simply scene-shifters and labourers, who
had been hired to represent those formidable characters. The lady also
asserted that she was the lawful wife of the robber chief, and the
mother of six children, and that she didn't stand in the slightest fear
of him, but that he was the kindest and most indulgent of husbands.
At length the manager came on the stage, leading forward the murdered
youth and the brigand himself, who now, having laid aside his beard and
wig, looked a very harmless individual. The manager, politely
addressing the seamen, requested them to return to their seats and allow
the performance to continue. After some persuasion they complied, but
the illusion was gone, and by the loud remarks which issued from their
lips they evidently took very little interest in the plot of the piece.
"I say, Smith, how are the babies at home?" shouted one.
"You know if you was such a villain as you say, you would be triced up
to the yard-arm in quarter less than no time," cried another.
The poor actress, as she reappeared, was saluted with, "How goes it with
you, Mrs Smith? Have you been to look after the babies?" while the
carpenters and scene-shifters were addressed as Jones and Brown and
other familiar names.
In vain the manager protested against the interruption of the
performance. He was desired to dance a hornpipe or sing a sea-song. To
the latter invitation he at last acceded, and at length restored
somewhat like order in the theatre. Tom and I, having to return on
board, left the house before the performance was concluded, so I can
give no further account of what happened on that memorable evening.
Some days after this, the boatswain, with a party of men, having gone
ashore to obtain some fresh hands to fill up our complement,--there was
no need of the press-gang at that time,--returned on board with six
stout fellows. Among them I recognised the seaman who had given us a
passage down in the coach from London, and who had taken so prominent a
part in the defence of the brigand's bride. They were at once entered,
the man I speak of under the name of John Patchett. He looked at
Nettleship and me as if he had never before seen us in his life, and I
at first almost doubted whether he could really be the same man; but
when I observed the independent way in which he went rolling along the
deck, evidently caring for no one, and heard the tone of his voice, I
was certain that he was the fellow I had supposed; so also was
Nettleship, who said that he would have a talk with him some day, under
pretence of learning what ships he had served aboard. He told me
afterwards that he had done so, but that Patchett didn't allude to his
journey in the coach. His only answer when he asked him if he knew
anything about it was--
"Well, the fellow had his spree, but he was a fool for all that."
At last Lord Robert, whose name had appeared very frequently at balls
and entertainments given in London, received peremptory orders from the
Admiralty to put to sea. He came back in very ill-humour, complaining
as before to Mr Saunders of the harsh treatment he received from the
Admiralty. In a cheerful tone the following day old Rough-and-Ready,
who was always happier at sea than in harbour, gave the order to unmoor
ship. Visitors were sent on shore, and sail being made, we stood out of
Portsmouth harbour to Spithead. We there dropped our anchor near the
spot where, four years before, the _Royal George_ with brave Admiral
Kempenfeldt and upwards of four hundred men, went down. A large buoy
marked the place where the stout ship lay beneath the waves.
Some cases of claret and other stores which Lord Robert expected had not
arrived, and he declared that it would be impossible to put to sea
without them. It was a matter of perfect indifference to us in the
midshipmen's berth how long we remained, or where we went, for in those
piping times of peace we expected to have very little to do. In that
respect we were not mistaken. After waiting three days, the expected
stores, which had come down from London by waggon, were brought
alongside, and, going out by Saint Helen's, we stood down Channel. We
put into Plymouth Sound, where we remained a whole week, while Lord
Robert went on shore; but as it was impossible to say at what moment we
might be ordered to sea, no leave was granted. We all wished for a gale
of wind from the south-west, which might compel us to run into Hamoaze,
as the Sound itself afforded no shelter. Lord Robert had better have
kept at sea if he had wished to remain on the home station, for by some
means or other information was sent to the Admiralty of our being at
Plymouth, and a courier came down post haste from London, with
despatches for the _Jason_ to convey to the Mediterranean. We were well
pleased when the news was brought aboard. The captain, however, looked
in not very good humour at having to go so far from home. The wind
being to the eastward, we immediately got under weigh, and proceeded on
our course down Channel. Old Rough-and-Ready tried his best to restore
the men to their former discipline, by exercising them at the guns, and
repeatedly shortening and making sail. The despatches, I suppose, were
of no great importance, as Lord Robert appeared not to be in a hurry to
deliver them. We took it easily, therefore, and at times, when the wind
was light or contrary, furling everything, and then making all sail
again; that done, we had once more to reef and furl sails, and to brace
the yards about. However, at last we got a strong breeze and continued
our course. About a month after leaving Plymouth, we came in sight of
the Rock of Gibraltar, and brought up in the bay. Lord Robert delivered
the despatches he had brought out to the governor. We got leave to land
and visit the wonderful galleries hewn out in the Rock, which had bid
defiance to the fleets and armies of France and Spain when General
Elliot was in command of the place, in 1782, while we were in the West
Indies. We heard many particulars of the gallant defence. General
Elliot had comparatively a small force of troops to garrison the
fortress, but they were reinforced by the seamen of the fleet, who were
landed, and formed into a brigade under the command of Captain Robert
Curtis, of the _Brilliant_ frigate. The French and Spaniards had a
fleet of forty-seven sail of the line, besides floating batteries of a
peculiar construction, frigates, zebecks, gun and mortar boats, and
upwards of 40,000 troops, who besieged the fortress on the land side.
The naval brigade had charge of the batteries at Europa Point, and so
ably did they work their guns, that they soon compelled the Spanish
squadron to retire out of the reach of their shot. Besides the vessels
I have mentioned, the Spaniards had 300 large boats, collected from
every part of Spain, which were to be employed in landing the troops.
Early in the morning on the 13th September, the fleet, under the command
of Admiral Moreno, got under way, and, approaching to a distance of
about a thousand yards, commenced a heavy cannonade, the troops on the
land side opening fire at the same time. It was replied to by the
garrison with tremendous showers of red-hot shot, which, falling on
board the Spanish ships, set that of the admiral and another on fire.
The Spaniards were seen in vain attempting to extinguish the flames.
The fiery shower was kept up, and during the night seven more vessels
took fire in succession. The Spaniards were seen making signals of
distress, and the boats of their fleet came to their assistance, but
were so assailed by the showers of shot, that they dared no longer
approach, and were compelled to abandon their ships and friends to the
flames.