THE MASTER OF THE OUZEL GALLEY--HIS SON AND DAUGHTER--THE FIRST MATE--A
CALM--A GALE SPRINGS UP--A RAFT SEEN--OWEN RESCUES ITS OCCUPANT--DAN,
AND POMPEY, THE BLACK COOK--SURMISES ABOUT THE STRANGER--THE GALE
CEASES--THE STRANGER APPEARS ON DECK AND GIVES AN ACCOUNT OF HIMSELF--
GIVES FIRST NEWS OF WAR BETWEEN ENGLAND AND FRANCE--LANCELOT CARNEGAN
BECOMES SECOND MATE OF THE OUZEL GALLEY.
"No sign of a breeze yet, Owen?" asked Captain Tracy, as he lay in his
cot, slung in the state-room of the _Ouzel Galley_, West India trader,
of which stout bark he was the commander. His fair daughter Norah sat
by his side fanning his pale cheek--for he, like several of his crew,
had been struck down by fever, and he probably owed his life to her
watchful care. For many days the vessel had lain becalmed on the glassy
ocean under a tropical sun, the excessive heat tending greatly to
increase the sickness on board, three of the crew, besides the second
mate, having already succumbed to it. Day after day the survivors had
been anxiously looking out for the wind to fill the sluggish sails
hanging down against the masts; but each morning they had seen the fiery
sun rise out of the calm ocean and pass across the blue vault of heaven,
to sink again beneath the horizon, suffusing with a ruddy glow the whole
western sky. The night brought relief from the heat, and hope revived;
but when morning returned, again the suffering crew had to endure the
scorching rays of the sun, from which even the shade cast by the sails
afforded them but inadequate shelter. The chips from the carpenter's
bench which had been thrown overboard still lay alongside; while the
creaking of the yards and blocks, and the slight splashing sound as the
vessel moved from side to side by the now scarcely perceptible
undulations of the broad Atlantic, alone broke the silence which,
reigned over the watery expanse on which she floated. Norah--a fair and
beautiful girl, who, though scarcely sixteen summers had passed over her
head, had already the appearance, and what was to her of the greatest
consequence, the calm resolution of more mature age--stopping for a
moment in her employment, looked up with an inquiring glance from her
blue eyes towards the first mate, who had just then, hat in hand,
entered the cabin.
"A bank of clouds has just appeared above the horizon in the sou'-west,
sir, and from the rapid way in which it is rising we shall, if I mistake
not, have the wind before long, and as much as we want of it," he
replied.
"Thank Heaven!" ejaculated the captain. "See all ready for shortening
sail. I must try to come on deck, for we are sadly short-handed."
"Oh! don't attempt it, father," said Norah; "you have scarcely strength
to stand, and Mr Massey and the crew will do all that is necessary."
"Miss Norah is right, sir--stay where you are," said the mate. "I am
inclined to furl everything at once, so as to be prepared for the wind
when it reaches us; it is near the hurricane season in the West Indies,
and they are sometimes felt as far to the eastward as this. Should the
wind not prove as strong as I expect, we can easily make sail again."
"Do as you propose, Owen," said the captain; "you are always careful and
prudent."
"Ay, ay, sir," answered the mate, and he sprang quickly on deck. "All
hands shorten sail!" he shouted. "Be smart, my lads, or we may have old
Harry Cane aboard us before we have time to open our weather eyes."
He knew well that a joke would tend to inspirit the downcast crew, most
of whom were Irishmen--the _Ouzel Galley_ belonging to Dublin, though
trading chiefly to the fair port of Waterford. She was a deep-waisted
vessel, with three masts, the foremast and mainmast square-rigged, while
the aftermast carried a long lateen-shaped sail called the mizen, with a
square topsail and topgallantsail. The mainsail and foresail having
been brailed up and handed, Owen ordered the crew aloft to furl the
main-topsail.
"Gerald, lend me a hand to furl the mizen!" he sang out to a lad who had
been actively engaged in the former operation. Gerald Tracy, the
captain's son, a fine-looking youth, sprang aft to the mizen-brails.
The mate having already let go the sheet, the sail was drawn up close to
the yard.
"Now, aloft to the mizen-topsail," cried the mate; "we must have every
stitch of canvas off her before the wind reaches us; for, depend upon
it, it is in no playful mood."
The mate and Gerald sprang up the rigging, and getting hold of the bunt
of the sail, quickly furled it. Pompey, the black cook, and Tim
Maloney, a boy, were on deck letting go or hoisting away at the ropes as
required; every other man in the ship able to move was aloft. All the
after sail having been taken off the ship, Owen, as he was about to
descend from the yard, cast a glance to windward.
"Here it comes, sharp and strong," he sang out; "down--down, quick, all
of you!" and, seizing the backstay, he glided like lightning on deck.
Gerald followed his example. As soon as the mate reached the deck, he
sprang to the deserted helm and gave another look in the direction from
which he expected the wind to come. Already could be discerned a long
line of white foam curling up above the hitherto calm sea, over the
surface of which innumerable cat's-paws were playing, now sweeping
across it, now vanishing, to reappear speedily in another direction.
The men were in the mean time employed, under the mate's directions, in
getting the ship snug.
"Gerald, do you go and assist them," he said; "we haven't a moment to
lose."
The jib only remained set. Some of the crew had begun to grumble at
having so much pulling and hauling, with apparently no object.
"What's the use of furling sails in a dead calm? we shall be after
having to set them again, as I hope we shall get the breeze before
long," exclaimed Dan Connor.
An active seaman was Dan, though he could seldom see much further than
his own nose.
"Nebber fear dat," cried Pompey, "we get de wind 'tiff and 'trong as you
and I like de grog, Dan--de mate hab um wedder eye open as 'wide as de
captain--see what coming--look out, man--what say to dat?"
Those standing near him turned their glances over the larboard side,
towards the south-west, the vessel then lying with her head to the
north-west, where they saw a long line which had now assumed the
appearance of a vast foaming wave, while at the same time a loud hissing
roar reached their ears. The mate shouted for another hand to come to
the helm. Dan Connor sprang aft at the mate's call; but scarcely had he
grasped the spokes of the wheel, than the wind with a furious rush
struck the vessel. Down she heeled, while a deluge of spray flew over
her. For an instant it seemed as if she was irretrievably gone, but the
jib happily standing, she drew ahead, and feeling her helm, round she
spun, and, righting as suddenly as she had heeled over, away she flew
before the hurricane. The young mate drew his breath.
"Gerald, go below and tell your father that we're all to rights and no
damage done. We had a narrow squeak for it, though; but don't say
that--it may trouble your sister," said Owen.
Gerald went into the cabin with the satisfactory intelligence. On
entering he found Norah clinging to the sofa, which was placed
athwart-ships, at the after end of the cabin. She looked pale and
anxious; happily, the captain had escaped being thrown out of his cot
when the vessel had been hove on her beam-ends.
"How goes it, Gerald?" he asked.
"All right, father," answered Gerald; "the stout ship is behaving
beautifully. Thanks to Mr Massey, we were well prepared for the squall
when it struck us--though it's my belief if we'd had our canvas set it
would have been all over with the _Ouzel Galley_. We are now scudding
along under bare poles at a rate which will soon carry us into Waterford
harbour, if the wind holds as it is."
"Little chance of that, I'm afraid," observed the captain; "but, Gerald,
tell the mate to have the dead-lights closed. The sea will be getting
up presently, and we shall have it washing through the stern windows."
"Ay, ay, sir," answered his son, who knew that an order given must be
delivered immediately, and was about to go.
"Stay, Gerald--tell him to set the fore-topsail closely reefed, and to
rig preventer-braces; we must not run the risk of having the ship
pooped, and there will be a great chance of that happening before long,
unless we have merely caught the tail of the hurricane."
The boy hurried on deck and gave the orders he had received. He found
that the mate had anticipated them. The carpenter was at that moment
coming aft to close the stern-ports, while several hands were going
aloft to loose the fore-topsail. The mate had seen the necessity for
this, as already the furious wind had lashed the ocean, hitherto so
calm, into wildly leaping seas, which came rushing up on both sides of
the vessel, with foaming crests like war-steeds charging on the foe; but
onward she flew before them, now rising to the summit of a wave, now
pitching down into the trough on the farther side. It needed all the
strength of the crew to reef and set the sail. The carpenter, as soon
as he had performed his task, went forward again to assist the rest,
while the mate and Gerald took the helm. The sail was at length set,
and the men came down off the yard. The mate kept an anxious eye on the
canvas, doubting much whether it would stand the tremendous strain put
on it--he expected every moment to see it blown away from the
bolt-ropes--but it was stout and new. He had little fear of the
rigging, for every inch of it he had himself assisted in turning in and
setting up, and not a strand had parted--all was thoroughly served. He
now summoned one of the best hands to relieve him at the helm; he then
had a spare fore-topsail got up on deck ready to bend, should the first
be carried away. Having made every arrangement which as a good seaman
he considered necessary, he sent Gerald back into the cabin to report to
the captain; he would, he knew, be anxious to learn how things were
going on. Gerald, who was an enthusiastic admirer of the mate, did not
fail to tell all that had been done.
"He is a good seaman, father, that mate of ours," he exclaimed.
"I can always trust him to do the right thing," observed the captain.
"He is as fine a fellow as ever stepped," answered Gerald, warmly; "when
I thought the ship was going over, I looked at him, and there he stood,
as calm and unmoved as if we had been running before a light breeze with
all sail set."
Norah's eye brightened as her brother spoke, and a smile played over her
countenance, though she said nothing.
"You will do well to imitate him, Gerald," remarked the captain; "he is
calm and confident because he thoroughly knows his business and what
will have to be done under every emergency. A better seaman never trod
the deck of a merchant vessel, or a king's ship either. When this
voyage is over, as Norah insists on my not going to sea again, I intend
to get the owners to give him the command of the _Ouzel Galley_--they
know their own interests too well to refuse my request. Before long you
will be old enough, Gerald, to become second mate, and perhaps, if the
stout ship meets with no mishap, to command her one of these days,
should Owen get a larger craft, or take it into his head to come and
live on shore."
Gerald was glad to hear his father speak in this style; it showed that
he was already getting better and recovering his spirits, which had been
much cast down, especially since the death of so many of the crew. He
now inquired how the others were getting on, and sent Gerald forward to
learn. He soon came back with the report that two already seemed much
better, but that the third had as yet shown no signs of amendment.
"They'll pick up, poor fellows, when we get into a cooler latitude,"
observed the captain. "I feel myself already another man, and hope to
be on deck in a day or two."
Tim, the cabin-boy, now entered to prepare the table for supper. It
still wanted an hour or more to-night, but that meal in those days was
taken earlier than at present. Pompey, notwithstanding the way the
vessel was tumbling about, had managed to keep his fire in and to cook
some broth for the captain and the sick men--for they were unable to
partake of more substantial fare. Norah had become so accustomed to a
sea life in all weathers, that she was able to attend to her father and
to take her seat at table. Tim, as soon as he had placed the dishes,
well secured with the usual puddings and fiddles, went to summon the
mate, who was generally on such occasions relieved by the boatswain; but
Tim came back to say that Mr Massey could not quit the deck till the
gale moderated. Gerald, having despatched his supper, quickly joined
him.
"What do you think of the weather, Mr Massey?" he asked.
"That it is blowing big guns and small-arms," answered the mate,
laughing. "Not that that much matters as long as it holds steadily in
its present quarter; but I'm on the look-out lest it should change, and
if it does, it will not give warning of its intention. It would be an
ugly thing to be taken aback with this sea on, and it is that we must be
prepared for."
The waves had indeed, since Gerald had been below, greatly increased,
and were now rising far above the bulwarks, and as they curled over
threatened to come down on the deck and overwhelm the good ship.
"Keep a tight hold of a stanchion or the mizen-mast, Gerald," said the
mate; "if one of those seas breaks on board, you might be carried away
in a moment. See, the men know what may possibly happen, and are doing
as I advise you--though, if I had my will, you should remain below."
"My father and Norah would be ashamed of me if I did," answered Gerald;
"depend on it, I will take good care to hold on with tooth and nail if
we get so unwelcome a visitor."
Onward flew the ship; already the gloom of night had begun to steal over
the waste of waters, when the look-out forward shouted, "A lump of
timber or a boat capsized right ahead a point on the starboard bow!"
Immediately afterwards he added, "It's a raft, sir, with a man on it;
he's waving to us!"
The mate sprang into the mizen rigging, and having glanced at the
position of the raft, of which he caught sight as it rose to the summit
of a sea, he exclaimed, "We must save the poor fellow's life--port the
helm half a point. Steady now. Get ropes ready to heave to him," he
next shouted out; and, securing one round his own waist, he leaped into
the fore-chains.
The ship flew on, but he had rightly calculated the position of the
raft. There was a fearful risk, however, that she might run over it, or
that the force of the sea might dash it against her side and crush its
occupant. But no time was allowed for considering the risk to be run.
Owen saw that the man had disengaged himself from the ropes by which he
had been secured to the raft, and was holding on to one of them alone.
He must have well known his terrible danger, for a sea might in a moment
wash him away, in spite of his holdfast. The mate stood ready with
another rope in hand to heave to him. The next instant the raft was
driven against the side of the vessel, and the man lost his hold.
Prompted by a generous instinct, Owen, at the great risk of his own
life, sprang on to the raft, and, grasping him round the waist, put the
rope into his hand, while he held him fast. The crew were in readiness,
in the rigging or leaning over the bulwarks, and before another moment
had passed both Owen and the stranger were drawn up and stood in safety
in the main-chains, whence eager hands hauled them on board.
"You have rendered me a good turn, and I hope to live long enough to
repay it," said the rescued man, as soon as he had sufficiently
recovered his breath to speak; for he had been pretty nearly exhausted
by the efforts he had made to hold on to the raft, and the sudden jerk
he had received in being hauled on board.
He was evidently a seaman, for a seaman and a strong and determined man
alone could have exerted himself as he had done to preserve his life.
By his dress and manner, also, he appeared to be an officer. The
physical suffering and mental anxiety he must have gone through had
naturally so much exhausted him that, though able to stand, he was
compelled to hold fast to the bulwarks to support himself. From his
appearance, however, he looked like a man capable of enduring as much as
most persons; he was strongly built, rather above the middle height,
with a countenance which if not handsome was good-looking, and betokened
courage and resolution.
"I am glad that I was fortunate enough to get hold of you, and to help
you on board--though, as I should have tried to do the same for any
human being placed in the situation in which you were, I do not feel
that you have any special reason to be thankful to me," answered Owen.
"As to that matter, all I know is, that if you hadn't jumped on the raft
at the moment you did and thrown me a rope, I should have been washed
away, and have been by this time where many a bold fellow has gone
before; and though a more exalted fate may be in store for me, according
to the old saying, as I have no wish to leave the world just yet, I am
bound to be grateful to you, captain--for I conclude that you are the
skipper of this craft," said the stranger.
"No, I am but the mate," answered Owen; "the skipper is ill, and as the
berths in the state cabin are occupied, I can only offer you mine--and I
would advise you to get off your wet clothes and turn in between the
blankets, with a stiff glass of grog, or you may be the worse for your
wetting and exposure."
"I have knocked about too much up and down at sea, with all sorts of
adventures, to be much the worse for what I've gone through. However, I
will accept your offer. A stiff glass of grog, especially, will be
welcome, and something to eat with it; for I had no opportunity of
dining on the raft, as you may suppose," answered the stranger.
He said this in an off-hand, careless manner, laughing as he spoke; but
notwithstanding his boasts, he was glad of the assistance of Owen and
Dan Connor, on whose shoulders he rested while they conducted him to the
cabin of the former. No sooner did he reach it than he sank down
utterly exhausted, and it was not without considerable help from Dan
that he was able to get off his garments and turn in to bed.
"You'll be all to rights now, your honour, and I'll be after bringing
you a basin of soup and a glass of grog," remarked Dan, as he was
gathering up the wet clothes to carry to the galley fire.
"Stay, there are some papers in my pockets which I wish to keep in my
own possession," said the stranger, as he saw what Dan was about.
"They're like to be in a pretty mess, which it will take a pair of sharp
eyes to read, by this time," observed Dan.
"They are in a tin case--hand it to me," was the answer, as Dan began to
feel about in the pockets of the stranger's jacket. "You may take the
clothes away now, my man; and don't be long in bringing me the grog,
mind you," added the stranger, when he had possessed himself of the tin
case and, in addition, a well-filled purse and several other smaller
articles, which his pockets had contained.
"By-the-by, what's the name of this vessel, and to what port is she
bound?" he asked.
"Shure, she's the _Ouzel Galley_, your honour," answered Dan, "and as
sweet a craft as sails between the West Indies and Dublin city--though
we're bound just now to Waterford, and we'll be after getting there, I
hope, some day."
"And what's the name of your skipper and your mate, who pulled me out of
the water?" continued the stranger.
"It's Captain Tracy you mane, and the mate's Mr Owen Massey, as fine a
man as iver stepped a deck. I'm after belaving, if he wasn't, he
wouldn't have done what he did just now, as your honour will be willing
to own," answered Dan.
"You're right--it was a brave deed," said the stranger. As soon as Dan,
bundling up the clothes, had left the cabin, its occupant eagerly opened
the tin case and examined its contents, apparently to satisfy himself
that they had escaped damage; then closing it, he placed it under his
pillow, on which he sank down exhausted.
"Faith, I've had a narrow escape--but as this craft is bound to fair
Waterford, I must either quit her before she gets there, or take care
that none of my friends recognise me when I step on shore," he murmured
to himself. "However, my good genius may enable me to escape that
danger, as it has to scramble through many others. Strange that my life
should have been saved by Owen Massey--he does not know me, however; but
that is not surprising, as I am greatly changed since we were together.
Few traces remain about me of the slight youth I then was. I must be on
my guard not to betray myself to him, or he and his commander may take
it into their heads that their loyalty obliges them to deliver me over
to the Government. As long as they don't find out who I am, I shall
have no difficulty in making my escape, even though I am compelled to
set foot on shore in Waterford itself. I wish those fellows would bear
a hand and bring me some food--that and a night's rest will restore my
strength and enable me to consider what to do better than I now can. I
have run many a narrow chance of losing my life, but never was I nearer
to death than to-day--another hour or two on the raft would have
finished me, and then where should I have been? Bah! I must not allow
such thoughts to trouble me, or I shall become nerveless as a young
girl."
In spite of all his efforts the thoughts he dreaded would intrude on the
stranger's mind. He looked eagerly for the return of the seaman with
the promised food and grog. Dan, in the mean time, with the bundle of
wet clothes under his arm, had made his way forward to the caboose,
where Pompey was busy blowing away at his fire and trying to get his
kettle and a saucepan of broth to boil.
"Well, Dan, my jewel, who dis fellow just come on board? What you tink
about him?" asked Pompey.
"Faith, it's more than he thought fit to tell me," answered Dan. "All I
know is that he's a mighty fine-spoken gentleman, with a big purse of
gold in his pocket."
"In which pocket?" asked Pompey eagerly, taking up the jacket.
"You big thief, you don't think I am after laving it to your itching
fingers--no, no, Pompey, even if the gentleman himself hadn't taken it
out, he's been too long at sea not to guess pretty shrewdly that the
shiners would vanish if the purse found its way forrard," said Dan.
"You'll not be after calling me a big thief, Dan?" exclaimed Pompey,
getting angry at this insinuation against his honesty.
"No, but I'll back your tongue to wag faster than any man's in this
ship," replied Dan. "Come, bear a hand and get the water to boil, and
then we'll hang up these clothes to dry, for the stranger doesn't look
like a man who'll be content to lie in bed longer than he can help, and
he'll be wanting to get up to-morrow morning and show himself on deck."
"He may be a mighty fine gentleman," muttered Pompey, "but I never did
see much good come in hauling a man, whoever he was, out of de water."
"What's that you say, you old thief of the world?" exclaimed Dan.
"Whether good or bad comes of it, it was as brave a thing as you or I or
any man ever saw done, to leap on the raft as our mate did and manage to
bring the stranger on board. We've some stout fellows among us, but not
one would have dared to do that same. When the skipper hears of it
he'll be after praising him as he deserves; and there's some one else,
too, who'll not think the less of him than she does now. It won't be my
fault if I don't let the skipper know how it all happened--though maybe
the stranger won't forget to tell him--but as for the mate himself, he's
as likely as not to make light of it, and just to say that it's what any
other man would have done as well."
The opinion uttered by Dan was shared generally among the crew, with
whom Owen Massey stood deservedly high.
"Come, bear a hand, Pompey," continued Dan; "the watch will be out
before you get that fire to burn."
By dint of hard puffing Pompey succeeded in his object, and Dan went aft
with a kettle of hot water in one hand and a basin of soup in the other.
He then, having obtained the requisite amount of rum, repaired to the
mate's cabin, where he found the stranger on the point of dropping off
from exhaustion, and almost in a state of insensibility. The broth and
grog, however, quickly revived him. He uttered but few words of thanks,
and again falling back on his pillow, dropped off to sleep.
Gerald, who had witnessed Owen's gallant act, trembling lest he should
fail and lose his life, gave a shout of joy when he saw him successful
and safe again on board. Prompted by his feelings, he sprang towards
the mate, and grasping his hand, exclaimed, "Bravely done, Mr Massey!
Oh, how thankful I am that you got him on board! It did not seem
possible. Had you been lost, it would have broken Norah's heart, and my
poor father's too--for, sick as he is, he couldn't have borne it. I
must go and tell them how it all happened--they'll think more of you
than ever--but I'm very glad Norah wasn't on deck, for she would have
felt as I did, and been terribly alarmed."
"Hush, Gerald, hush! you think more of the affair than it deserves,"
said Owen; "had I run any risk of losing my life, your father might have
blamed me, as the safety of the ship while he is ill is committed to my
charge; but remember that I took the precaution of having a rope round
my waist, so that I couldn't come to any harm, and what I did any man
with strength and nerve could have done likewise--so, Gerald, don't make
a fuss about the matter. I saved the man's life, there's no doubt about
that, and he, therefore, is the only person who need thank me."
Notwithstanding what the mate had said, Gerald hurried into the cabin
and gave a report of what had occurred, not failing to express his own
opinion of the gallantry of the act. Norah, who had listened with
breathless interest while he spoke, uttered an ejaculation of
thankfulness, forgetting to make any inquiry about the man who had been
saved. Captain Tracy, however, expressed himself much as Owen expected
he would.
"It was a rash though brave deed," he observed, "but I'll not blame
him--he had no time, evidently, to think of the risk he was running, but
acted as his gallantry prompted him. He did not get any hurt, I hope?"
"No, father, beyond a thorough wetting--it was all done in a moment--he
was on board again almost before I could have looked round, walking the
deck as if nothing had happened," answered Gerald.
"I am thankful for that," said the captain; "and where have they stowed
the man he saved? Poor fellow! it would have been hard lines with him,
in such a sea as is still running, if he had not been picked up."
"The mate put him into his own cabin," said Gerald; "the cook has been
heating some soup for him, as he seemed very weak and pretty nigh
exhausted."
"Owen might have let him go forward with the men; they would have looked
after him carefully enough," observed Captain Tracy. "There was no
necessity for Owen to give up his own cabin--but he is always generous
and ready to sacrifice his own comforts for others."
"But the stranger from his way of speaking and dress seems to be an
officer, and he would think himself badly treated if he had been sent
forward," said Gerald.
"I must hear more about him from Owen," said the captain; "ask him to
come here as soon as he can leave the deck and has got on dry clothes.
How's the weather now, Gerald?"
"It is moderating rapidly, father, and the mate thinks we shall have
smooth water and a light breeze before night," was the answer.
When Gerald returned on deck he found the mate giving orders to loose
the topsails. As soon as this was done, the wind still decreasing, the
foresail and mainsail were set, and before long the ship was bounding
proudly over the seas with as much canvas as could be carried. At
length, leaving the deck in charge of the boatswain, Owen repaired to
the cabin and answered many questions put to him by the captain. He
might well have been satisfied with the approbation he received from
Norah, if not from her lips, from those bright blue eyes of hers--even
the captain forgot to scold him as he had intended for his rashness.
"We shall hear more about the man to-morrow, when he has recovered," he
observed; "he'll need a long rest, for he must have pretty well given up
all hope of his life when you saved him, till the ship hove in sight--
and even then he could scarcely expect to be picked up with the sea
there was running at the time. Well, I trust that he'll be grateful."
The captain then made inquiries about the sick men, of whom Owen was
able to give a favourable report.
"Thank God for that!" said the captain. "I feel myself quite another
man to what I have been for many a day, and I hope to-morrow to be on
deck again. If this stranger proves to be a seaman he may give you some
relief by doing duty on board; you've had a trying time of it, Owen, and
it is a mercy you've not knocked up."
Owen now bade the captain and mistress Norah good night, and went on
deck, when he desired the boatswain--the only person besides himself to
whom the charge of the ship could be confided--to turn in, that he might
relieve him in the next watch, should the weather continue to improve as
he hoped it would do. He was not disappointed; when the morning broke,
the ship was running on before a fair and moderate breeze. The rest of
the usual canvas was set, and under all sail the _Ouzel Galley_ made
good way towards her destination. With a thankful heart, soon after
breakfast, Norah accompanied her father on deck. The other sick men
were able to crawl up and enjoy the fresh air, their pallid faces
showing, however, how near death's door they had been. It was evident
that some time must elapse before they would be fit for duty. The
stranger had not yet made his appearance; but Dan, who had dried his
clothes, had taken them into the cabin, and reported that he was at
length awake and expressed his intention of getting up. Norah was
seated with her father under an awning stretched over the poop-deck,
where both shade and air could be enjoyed. When the stranger came up
the companion-hatch, the first person he saw was Owen. He put out his
hand.
"Though I got but a glimpse of you last night, you are, I am sure, the
man who hauled me off the raft, and I will again thank you heartily for
saving my life," he said, in a frank tone. "I find that I have deprived
you of your cabin; you must stow me elsewhere for the rest of the
voyage, for I must not continue to incommode you."
"There is another berth I can take, so don't talk about that," answered
Owen.
"As you wish," said the stranger, who having, to his own satisfaction it
may be, expressed his thanks, took a seaman-like glance round the ship.
As he did so, his eye fell on Norah and the captain. An expression of
surprise crossed his countenance, succeeded by a look of admiration, as
he beheld Norah, who appeared even more beautiful and attractive than
usual, her colour heightened by the fresh breeze and her heart joyous
with the thoughts of her father's recovery. She withdrew her gaze,
which had naturally been turned towards the stranger who had thus
unexpectedly appeared. He at once, guessing who the captain and his
daughter were, stepped on to the poop and advanced towards them.
Doffing his sea-cap with the manners of a man accustomed to the world,
he bowed to the young lady, and then addressed the captain. "I have
come without any formal invitation on board your ship, sir, but faith, I
hadn't my choice--your mate hauled me on board without asking whether I
wished it or no; and, to confess the truth, I am very much obliged to
him, for had he stopped to inquire I should not have had the opportunity
of answering, as in another moment I should have been carried to lie
where many a brave fellow sleeps, at the bottom of the sea. I am
therefore indebted to him for saving my life--what he did, he did well
and gallantly, at no slight risk of losing his own."
"I am thankful that he succeeded," answered Captain Tracy; "and, for my
part, all I can say is that you are very welcome on board--and glad I am
to see you so much recovered this morning."
"A night's rest has worked wonders--yesterday evening I felt very much
unlike myself, but I am now strong and well as usual." The stranger
took two or three turns on deck to verify his assertion; again stopping,
in an off-hand style he inquired how long the ship had been out, what
weather had been met with, and where she was bound for--though,
curiously enough, he did not offer to give any account of himself,
apparently intending to let the captain put any questions to him on the
subject he might think fit. Norah, not being destitute of the curiosity
natural to her sex, was longing to learn who the stranger was--yet she
did not like to ask him herself. She waited, hoping that her father
would do so. She could at length restrain herself no longer.
"Had you been long in the water, sir?" she inquired.
"Five or six hours, I believe, more or less," he answered, smiling.
"By-the-by, I must apologise for not having before given an account of
myself. To the best of my belief, I am the only survivor of the gallant
fellows who manned the _Dragon_ privateer, of which I had the honour to
be first officer. She carried sixteen guns and a crew of 110 hands, all
told."
"A privateer!" exclaimed Captain Tracy. "What flag did you sail under?
Has England again gone to war? We had heard nothing of it before we
left Port Royal."
"Oh, that is not surprising--it is scarcely six weeks since England
declared war against France," replied the stranger. "We knew what was
in the wind, and sailed from Bristol, to which port the _Dragon_
belonged, immediately the news reached us, in search of French
homeward-bound ships, hoping to get hold of them before they had heard
of the breaking out of war. We had, as you may judge, a quick run to
the southward, having on our way made three captures, and by having to
send prize crews away in them our strength was considerably diminished.
Still our captain, Simon Avery--you may have heard of him, sir--was not
the man to give up while there was a chance of falling in with other
vessels. Short-handed as we were, we had to keep watch and watch; and
yesterday morning, while the watch below were asleep, and most of the
hands on deck much in the same state, the ship was struck by a squall,
and before sheet or brace could be let go, over she went and began to
fill. I had just time, with three others, to get hold of a half-hatch,
to cut some spars adrift, and to shove off to a distance, when down she
went, carrying with her every soul on board. I don't wish to harrow the
young lady's feelings by describing the scene. A few floated up and
shouted out for help, but we couldn't give it, for our own raft was
already loaded. Before many minutes were over, even the stoutest
swimmers had sunk beneath the surface. I had got hold of an axe and a
coil of rope, and we managed to lash the spars to a grating. While so
employed, one of the men slipped off; as he couldn't swim, he was
drowned, and thus we had more room. The sea rapidly got up, and now
another of my companions was washed away, and then the last. I secured
myself to the raft, resolved to struggle for life while I had strength;
but had not, fortunately, your ship stood towards me, and your brave
mate gallantly hauled me on board, I should to a certainty have been
lost."
"I am very thankful, sir, that my mate was the means of saving you,"
said Captain Tracy; "you cannot praise him too highly. He has sailed
with me since he first came to sea, and though he took to the life
somewhat later than most people do, he has become a better seaman than
many of his elders."
"I don't doubt it, sir; I should judge from his looks that he is all you
describe him to be," answered the stranger.
"You say," resumed Captain Tracy, "that the English and French are at
loggerheads again--can you tell me whether any king's ships have been
sent out for the protection of our commerce, or, what is of more
consequence to us, whether many French privateers are already afloat?"
"As to that, it was reported that a fleet was fitting out at Portsmouth
with all despatch to be placed under the command of Sir Edward Hawke;
and it was said that Admiral Byng was to be sent to the Mediterranean
with a squadron. Another fleet was already at sea, under the command of
Admiral Holburne; and the news has arrived that he came up with and
attacked the French fleet, commanded by Admiral Macnamara, off the
American coast, and captured two 64-gun ships, with a considerable
number of troops on board. It is evident, therefore, that the English
are no longer asleep, as they have been for some time past, and are
intending to carry on the war with vigour. With regard to the
Frenchmen, they are pretty wide awake, though they may not have expected
to be attacked so suddenly; and as far as I was able to learn, they have
not been slow in sending both men-of-war and privateers to sea--and I
would advise you to stand clear of any strange sail we may fall in with:
it is wiser to avoid a friend than to run the risk of being caught by a
foe."
"This is bad news indeed you give me, sir," said Captain Tracy, "though
I have to thank you for it, as it is better to be forewarned; and you
may depend on it, I will follow your advice. Had I thought it likely
that war would break out, I should not have brought my young daughter to
sea; but she was anxious to come as she had no one to look after her,
and I intended this to be my last voyage, for I have knocked about
enough on the ocean to long to settle down quietly on shore. We know
that we must run all risks, but I cannot bear the thought of what might
happen should we be captured by a picarooning privateer, for most of
them are but little better than pirates." He said this in a low voice,
aside, to the stranger, intending that Norah should not hear him.
"I sincerely hope that we shall not fall in with a Frenchman of any
quality, either a man-of-war or one of the picarooning rascals you speak
of," answered the stranger, in a somewhat sarcastic tone.
"Well, Mr--I beg your pardon, you haven't mentioned your name--I have
again to thank you for the information and advice you have given me, and
I hope you'll find yourself at home on board this chip. We're pretty
well provisioned, and we'll not starve you, at all events," said Captain
Tracy.
"Thank you, captain, I have no fear about the matter," answered the
stranger; "and as to my name, I quite forgot to give it. Indeed, you
are not likely to have heard of me before, for I have been knocking
about in distant seas for most of my life--it is Lancelot Carnegan. I
hail from Ireland, as you may suppose; and perhaps you may have already
discovered a touch of the brogue--but it has been well-nigh washed out
of me; still, though we children of Erin roam the world over, we never
entirely get rid of our mother tongue."
"Bad luck to us if we do," answered the captain, laughing. "I might
have guessed that you came from the old country--and now you'll have an
opportunity, if you wish to remain when we reach harbour, of renewing
your acquaintance with it and any friends you may have."
"There are few, if any, who know me," answered Mr Carnegan. "I played
truant at an early age, and have seldom since then set foot on my native
shore."
Norah had made no attempt to join in the conversation. The new-comer,
now turning towards her, addressed her in a deferential tone, and with a
look which clearly showed the admiration he felt. He inquired how she
liked the West Indies, and what parts of the islands she had seen, and
whether she enjoyed being at sea. They were but commonplace questions,
but his manner encouraged her to speak freely, and she described with
much graphic power the scenery and places she had visited.
"I delight in the sea," she added. "I enjoy it in all weathers; and
even when a storm has been raging I have felt no fear, for I knew that
the good ship is sound, and that those in command were well able to
manage her. I should have been ready to accompany my father in as many
more voyages as he might wish to make, and it is not I who have
persuaded him to quit the sea. I fear, indeed, that he will soon get
tired of the quiet life he will lead on shore."
A complimentary remark was rising to Mr Carnegan's lips, but he
restrained himself, not quite certain how it might be taken, and merely
said, "Captain Tracy will have no cause, I am sure, to regret his
choice. Though I love the sea, I confess that I often long to take up
my abode in some romantic spot in the old country, with the
companionship of one whose happiness I could watch over. In truth, I
could gladly spend the remainder of my days far away from war and
strife, and out of sight even of the stormy ocean--for, should I catch a
glimpse of that, I might at times be tempted to wish myself again
bounding over the buoyant wave."
The speaker perhaps expected to see Norah cast down her eyes as he
addressed her; but she looked up with a steady glance, and laughingly
answered, "If you think that, you have very little confidence in your
own resolution."
Mr Carnegan was about to reply, when the captain observed, "Let me
advise you, sir, to keep to the sea, unless you have some better calling
in view. An idle life on shore won't suit you, a young man of spirit;
and those who try it have to repent of their folly. But you will excuse
me when I say that I think you would find as honourable employment in
the merchant service as on board a privateer--not but that I am ready to
allow that many gallant fellows engage in that sort of work; though,
when you look at it in its true light, privateering is but licenced
robbery at the best."
"I cannot say that I so view it," observed Mr Carnegan; "while
benefiting ourselves and lining our own pockets, we are serving the
country. We capture our foes in fair and open fight, while we run the
risk of being taken ourselves. However, to prove to you that I don't
despise the merchant service, as you appear to be rather short-handed, I
shall be happy to do duty on board as one of your mates, if you will
trust me. I don't ask for wages, but it will be a satisfaction to me to
feel that I am working my passage home."
"I don't doubt your knowledge of seamanship and navigation, and gladly
accept your offer," answered the captain.
Mr Carnegan was accordingly duly installed in the office of second mate
of the _Ouzel Galley_.