A HEAVY GALE AHEAD--THE WIND BECOMES FAIR--GERALD'S PLAN TO RECOVER THE
SHIP--CARRIES IT OUT--NORAH'S RESOLUTION--THE LIEUTENANT CAUGHT
NAPPING--THE FRENCHMEN'S WEAPONS SECURED--BUSSON AND THE FRENCH CREW
OVERPOWERED--GERALD AND NORAH HOLD LIEUTENANT VINOY IN CHECK--THE OUZEL
GALLEY REGAINED--A COURSE STEERED FOR WATERFORD--PRECAUTIONS AGAINST
RECAPTURE--APPROACH THE LAND.
The _Ouzel Galley_ had run very nearly as far north as the latitude of
Ushant, though she was still some way to the westward. Her crew had got
on very well with their captors, who called them _bons garcons_, and
were perfectly willing to fraternise with them. No one coming on board
would have suspected their relative positions. The lieutenant made
himself at home in the cabin; he was polite and courteous to Norah and
Captain Tracy, and in no way presumed on being, as he was, the real
commander of the ship. Gerald, however, did not seem inclined to
associate with him, and seldom came into the cabin when he was there.
Gerald, indeed, spent most of his time in assisting Norah to attend on
Owen, by whose side he would sit patiently for hours together; or else
he was holding secret confabulations with Dan Connor and Tim Maloney.
Although Owen had been greatly weakened by loss of blood, it saved him
from fever, and his wound, which was not deep, rapidly healed. Of this,
however, Gerald advised Norah not to tell the lieutenant. The other
wounded and pick men continued in their berths, apparently making no
progress towards recovery; so that, of the original crew of the _Ouzel
Galley_, there were only five hands besides Gerald and Tim fit for duty.
These, of course, the Frenchmen, with their officer, considered that
they were perfectly able to keep in order. The weather, which had
hitherto been especially favourable, now greatly changed for the worse;
a strong north-easterly gale springing up threatened to blow the _Ouzel
Galley_ far away to the westward. Lieutenant Vinoy was in despair; he
had been anticipating the pleasure of carrying his prize into Boulogne,
the port to which Captain Thurot had ordered him to take her, in the
course of two or three days--and now she might be kept out for a week,
or three weeks for that matter, and the risk of being recaptured greatly
increased. Still he did his best to hold his ground, keeping the ship
close-hauled, now on one tack, now on the other; while either he or his
mate, Jacques Busson, were ever on deck ready to take advantage of any
change of wind.
"I shall sleep soundly when this vile wind from the eastward has ceased
to blow," exclaimed the lieutenant one day, on coming down to dinner.
"I hope you will," said Gerald, looking him boldly in the face. "You
deserve some rest after keeping watch and watch so long."
"Gerald," said Norah, when they were together in the cabin, the captain
being on deck, "I suspect that you are thinking of attempting to recover
the vessel, and that our father has not been told what you intend to
do."
"Why should you suppose so?" asked Gerald.
"Because I see you constantly talking to the men in a way you never used
to do, and because you avoid the French lieutenant and speak to him in
so strange a manner," answered Norah.
"I won't deny that I have a plan in my head; but you are to know nothing
about it till it has succeeded," replied Gerald. "One thing I'll tell
you, that I'm very sure it can't fail of success if all hands are true
to each other--and, Norah, don't be alarmed if you hear that two or
three more of our people are down with the fever; and if our father says
anything, you can just remark that I told you I was sure they would very
soon be well again."
"I have confidence in your discretion," said Norah, "but I pray that
there may be no necessity for violence, and that neither the young
officer nor any of the men may be injured."
"That depends on circumstances," said Gerald; "no one wishes to hurt a
hair of their heads if they behave themselves--if not, they must take
the consequences."
The gale increasing, it taxed all the strength of the Frenchmen, and the
few of the original crew who remained, to shorten sail; but anxious as
Lieutenant Vinoy was to get into port, he refused to heave to, and
continued beating the ship to windward. At length, one day, soon after
noon, the wind began to decrease, and before dark a moderate breeze was
blowing from the southward. Captain Tracy had every day taken an
observation, the French officer not objecting to his doing so, and
Gerald always asked him whereabouts they were, noting the spot carefully
down on the chart when the lieutenant was on deck, so that his
proceedings might not be remarked. This day, according to Gerald's
calculations, they were exactly a hundred and fifty miles to the
southward of Waterford. The night was cloudy, and, as there was no
moon, it was darker than usual. One-half of the Frenchmen had turned
in, as had Lieutenant Vinoy; Jacques Busson had the middle watch.
Gerald had gone to his berth, but not to sleep; he merely pulled off his
shoes and jacket, and then, lying down, drew the blanket over him.
After waiting for about an hour he got up and groped his way to
Lieutenant Vinoy's cabin; the door was partly open--the sound which
issued from within showed that the French officer was fast asleep.
Gerald cautiously entered and possessed himself of a brace of pistols
which hung within reach of the lieutenant's hand at the head of his cot,
as also of a sword suspended to the bulkhead. Carefully carrying them
out, he then, quietly closing the door, made his way to Owen Massey's
cabin.
"We could not have a better opportunity than the present," he whispered.
"If you will get ready, I will call my father and warn Norah to keep
quiet. Here are the lieutenant's pistols--do you take one of them, and
I will carry the other and a sword to my father. You will have no
difficulty in keeping the lieutenant shut up in his cabin, while I creep
forward and get Pompey and Dan to come aft and secure Jacques Busson.
Just as they do so I will give a whistle loud enough for you and my
father to hear, and immediately you do so you both will spring on deck
and overpower the man at the helm. The rest of our people are prepared
to act as you have arranged; one of them will knock down the look-out
forward, while the others will throw themselves upon the other Frenchmen
and secure the hatches on those below. You wished Tim and me to keep
ourselves free to act according to circumstances; Tim was to get into
the boatswain's storeroom, and to cut as many lengths of rope as we
shall require. He will have them in readiness for the moment they are
wanted. There can be no mistake, I hope?"
"None, provided the Frenchmen don't take alarm," answered Owen. "You,
at all events, understand the plan perfectly."
"We may carry it out, too, I trust, without bloodshed," said Gerald.
"Shall I go forward and give the signal?"
"Yes. I feel well able to do my part, though my left arm may not be of
as much use as I should wish," answered Owen. "Call your father and
Norah, and then lose no time, or the lieutenant may be waking and give
us more trouble than is necessary."
Gerald then crept back into the state cabin. He first went into Norah's
berth, and uttered a few words in her ear in a low voice. She had not
undressed, having been warned by Owen of what was likely to happen, and
she had resolved to give every assistance in her power; though her arm
was weak, she possessed nerve and courage, and might be able to keep
watch over the French officer, or even to turn the scale in favour of
her friends, should any part of the plan miscarry.
"Give me the pistol," she whispered; "I know that it is ready for use,
as I saw the lieutenant loading it this afternoon."
"Do you think he suspected anything?" asked Gerald.
"That was no sign of his doing so," answered Norah; "he has frequently
withdrawn the charges and reloaded his pistols since he came on board."
"All right, you shall have it," said Gerald; "but you mustn't mind
shooting him if it is necessary. Remember, if you don't we may possibly
be overpowered, and shall be much worse off than we are now."
"I hope that no such necessity may arise," answered Norah, and her voice
trembled as she spoke.
"There, stay quiet till you're called, and I'll take the sword to our
father," said Gerald. The captain was awake, and prepared for the
attempt to recapture the ship, he and Owen having decided on the best
plan for carrying it out. He took the sword which his son brought him--
the lamp which swung from the deck above shed a feeble light throughout
the cabin--he had just quickly dressed, when Norah appeared.
"I had wished you to remain in your berth till we had secured the
Frenchmen," he whispered.
"Pray do not insist on my doing so," she answered. "I may be able to
help you, and I cannot bear the thoughts of hiding away while you are
exposed to danger. Do let me try to be of use, father; I shall run no
greater risk than I should by keeping in my berth. See, Gerald has
given me a pistol, and I know how to use it. It will serve, at all
events, to frighten the Frenchmen."
The captain, seeing Norah was determined, at length consented to do as
she proposed. Owen now joined them, and he and the captain crept to the
foot of the companion-ladder, up part of which they mounted, to be in
readiness to attack the man at the helm as soon as Gerald's signal
should be heard. Meantime, Gerald had made his way on deck. He had on
a dark jacket and trousers and dark worsted socks, and by creeping along
close under the bulwarks he would be able, he hoped, to get forward
without much risk of being seen. Jacques Busson, the officer of the
watch, was slowly pacing the deck, now looking up at the canvas which
like a dark pyramid seemed to tower into the sky, now addressing the man
at the helm to keep the sails full or else to steer rather closer to the
wind, now shouting to the look-out forward to ascertain that he was
awake and attending to his duty. Gerald stopped to observe what Jacques
Busson was about; he could distinguish the Frenchman's figure against
the sky, as he paced backwards and forwards on the raised poop, halting
now and then to take a glance to windward, and again taking a few steps
towards the stern. The moment Gerald thought that his back was turned
he again crept forward. He had no fear of being discovered by the man
at the helm, whose eyes, dazzled by the binnacle lamp, were not likely
to distinguish him. Thus on he went, quickly doubling round the guns,
till he reached the fore hatchway, down which he slipped without being
perceived by either of the Frenchmen on deck, who were seated under the
weather bulwarks, and, as he rightly concluded, with their eyes shut.
"We shall have no difficulty in tackling those two fellows," he thought.
The Frenchmen were berthed on the starboard side of the forecastle, the
_Ouzel Galley's_ people on the larboard side; Gerald was thus easily
able to find his friends. He had previously made all the arrangements
with Dan and Pompey--they had communicated them to the rest of the crew,
who only waited his arrival to carry them out. Gerald and Dan had
undertaken to get possession of the Frenchmen's pistols. It was the
most perilous part of the work to be performed, for should they be
awakened they might give the alarm, and put the watch on deck on their
guard. Both Dan and the black had noted accurately the places where the
Frenchmen had put their weapons, who, instead of depositing the pistols
under their pillows, had hung them up just above their heads, within
reach of their hands, while their cutlasses lay by their sides. To
remove the latter might be difficult without making a noise, and it was,
besides, considered of less importance to get hold of them. Stealing
silently across the fore-peak, Gerald and Dan reached one of the bunks;
Dan then leaning over, felt for the occupant's pistol, which he
carefully unhooked and handed to Gerald, who, almost breathless with
eagerness, grasped it tightly. They then went to the next berth, and
possessed themselves of the other weapons in the same manner. The third
man turned as they approached, and uttered a few incoherent words; Dan
and Gerald crouched down out of sight lest he should awake, but a loud
snore showed them that there was no great fear of his doing that, and
his pistols were successfully abstracted. The fourth man seemed
restless, and at length raised himself on his shoulder, and looked out.
"Qui va la?" he asked in French. Gerald and Dan were standing in deep
shade, and remained still as mice, scarcely daring to breathe. The
Frenchman, seeing no one, must have thought that he had been dreaming,
and again lying down composed himself to sleep. They waited till they
heard him also begin to snore, and Dan then crept forward and got hold
of his pistols. They each took one, and gave the remainder to their
shipmates. Tim was then sent up, furnished with a piece of line, with
directions to conceal himself close to the hatchway, down which he was
to let the line hang, and his pulling it up was to be the signal that
the Frenchmen were off their guard. On feeling it pulled all the party
below were to spring up on deck and overpower the crew forward. Gerald
accompanied by Dan and Pompey were, however, to make their way aft in
the same cautious manner in which he had come forward. The black, in
order to run less risk of being discovered, had stripped himself naked,
and oiled his body all over. The doing so was his own idea, and he
grinned when he proposed it to Dan.
"I like one big eel, and if dey try to catch me I slip out of dere
hands," he observed, chuckling.
"We could not hope for a better opportunity than the present," whispered
Gerald into Dan's ear.
"All right, sir," answered Dan, touching Pompey and Tim. The former, as
agreed on, noiseless as a cat, crept up on deck, when he immediately
gave a tug to the string. Gerald, with Dan and Pompey, followed, and,
crawling on all-fours, began to make their way aft. The booms and boats
would have concealed them for some part of the distance from Jacques
Busson even had it been daylight; they therefore ran no risk of being
discovered till they reached the after-part of the quarter-deck. Pompey
had now to play the chief part in the drama. Crawling up on the lee
side of the poop, he lay flat on the deck, while Gerald and Dan stole
after him, ready to spring up to his aid directly he had thrown himself
on Busson, leaving the helmsman to be dealt with by the captain and
Owen. Pompey had just reached the break of the poop, having waited for
the moment that Jacques Busson's back was towards him: a few seconds
passed, when the Frenchman again turned round, and, advancing a pace or
two forward, shouted to the man on the look-out. No answer came.
"Bete," he exclaimed, "he is asleep. I must arouse him with a rope's
end."
As he spoke he advanced, about to descend the steps leading to the
quarter-deck--at that moment Pompey, who had been watching him as a
serpent does its expected victim, springing to his feet, threw his arms
round the Frenchman's neck, while he at the same moment shoved a large
lump of oakum into his mouth before he could even utter a cry. Dan,
quick as lightning, joined him, while Gerald whistled shrilly the
promised signal to his father and Owen. It was heard too by Tim, who
pulling the line, the rest of the _Ouzel Galley's_ crew sprang up, some
throwing themselves on the two Frenchmen slumbering under the weather
bulwarks before they had time to draw their pistols. The men on the
forecastle, however, aroused by the noise, fired theirs at their
advancing opponents; but owing to the darkness and their hurry the
bullets missed their aim, and just as they got their hands on their
cutlasses they were both knocked over with well-planted blows in their
faces, and brought to the deck, at the same instant that Tim, to whom
the duty had been confided, closed down the hatch on the watch below.
The helmsman, on hearing the scuffle, was turning his head to see what
was the matter, when he found his arms pinioned by the captain and Owen.
On seeing this, Gerald ran forward to where Tim had concealed the rope.
He soon returned with a sufficient number of lengths to lash the arms
of Busson and the men, while Tim carried the rest of the rope to his
shipmates forward, who were not long securing the three Frenchmen. The
remaining four of the French crew, who had been aroused by the scuffle,
were now making desperate efforts to force their way up on deck, and one
on the top of the ladder had just succeeded in lifting up the hatch,
when Tim saw his head protruding above the combing.
"Bear a hand here, or shure the mounseers will be out of the trap," he
shouted, at the same time seizing a capstan-bar, which was close at
hand, and dealing a blow with it at the head of the Frenchman, who fell
stunned off the ladder, back upon his companions following at his heels.
Notwithstanding this, immediately they had recovered themselves they
again attempted to get up, and another man had succeeded in raising half
his body above the hatchway. Tim attacked him as he had done the first;
the man, however, who was a powerful fellow, grasped the capstan-bar,
and getting his knee on the combing was about to deal a blow at Tim
which would have felled him to the deck, when one of the English crew,
attracted by his cries, sprang to his assistance, and, wrenching the
weapon from the Frenchman's hands, struck him dead. Two more only had
now to be disposed of; they, still in ignorance of the fate of their
companions, sprang up the hatchway, and before they had time to gain
their feet were thrown down and secured. The man who had fallen below
was groaning heavily.
"He'll do no harm," observed Pat Casey.
"Arrah, don't be too shure of that," said Tim; "if he was to come to
life, he'd be after letting loose the others. It will be wiser to lash
him too; and unless the dead man is kilt entirely, I'd advise that we
prevent him from doing mischief."
Pat felt the Frenchman's head. "Shure, I never knew a man come to life
with a hole like this in his skull," he remarked, "but to make shure in
case of accidents, we'll heave him overboard;" and without more ado the
body of the Frenchman, who was undoubtedly dead, was shoved through the
foremost port.
Lieutenant Vinoy had not vainly boasted that he was a sound sleeper, for
notwithstanding the scuffle over his head, he did not awake; and happily
Norah, who had been stationed at his cabin door to keep him in check
should he attempt to break out, was not called upon to exercise her
courage. The two events which have been described were, it will be
understood, taking place at the same time. During those exciting
moments no one thought of what the ship was about; the consequence was
that she flew up into the wind, and it became necessary to box her off.
All hands were required for this purpose--the fore-yards had to be
braced round, the after-yards squared away. Owen, from his wound, being
the least able to exert himself, went to the helm, the captain hauling
away with the rest of the crew.
"Gerald, do you go forward and keep a look-out on our prisoners," cried
the captain. "If their arms by chance are not securely lashed, one or
more of them may be getting free and setting the others at liberty.
Call Tim Maloney to help you."
Gerald was about to obey this order, when the sound of loud knocking and
Norah's voice came from below, exclaiming, "The lieutenant is awake and
trying to break out of his cabin." Gerald heard it, and shouting to Tim
to look after the Frenchmen forward, he sprang down the
companion-ladder. He was not a moment too soon, for the French officer,
awaking and believing from the sounds which reached him that something
was the matter, had leaped out of bed with the intention of hastening on
deck, when he found the door fastened on him--then, hearing the captain
issuing orders, he guessed truly what had occurred. Supposing that
there might yet be time to regain possession of the ship, he frantically
endeavoured to break open the door. The only weapon he could discover
was the leg of a stool, which having wrenched off, he managed with it to
prise open the door. The light from the state cabin fell on him as he
appeared at the opening; just at that moment Gerald sprang down from the
deck. Catching sight of the lieutenant, he presented his pistol.
"Stay, monsieur," he exclaimed, "if you venture out of your cabin, I
shall be under the disagreeable necessity of shooting you."
The Frenchman hesitated, for, the light glancing on the pistol-barrel,
he recognised his own weapon, which he knew never missed fire, and
showed him also that he was totally unarmed. Gerald saw his advantage.
"Let me advise you, monsieur, to go back and sit down quietly, and no
harm will happen to you," he continued. "The ship is ours, and we
intend to keep her."
"Parbleu!" exclaimed the Frenchman, shrugging his shoulders; "you have
indeed gained an advantage over me."
"Very true--but not an unfair one," said Gerald, laughing, but still
keeping his pistol pointed at the officer, who now caught sight of
Norah, also with a pistol in her hand, standing a little behind her
brother. He might have made an attempt to spring upon Gerald and wrench
the weapon from his hand, but from the determined look of the young lady
he thought, in all probability, that she would fire over her brother's
head should he do so. He therefore stepped back and sat down on the
only remaining stool in the cabin, folding his arms with an air of
resignation.
"I acknowledge myself defeated," he exclaimed; "but when I have a young
lady as an opponent my gallantry forbids me to resist."
"It all comes of being a sound sleeper, monsieur," said Gerald, "but if
you had kept your weather eye open it might not have happened. However,
you may turn in again now and sleep as soundly as you like till we got
into Waterford harbour, where we shall be, I hope, if the wind holds
fair, in another day or two. But don't agitate yourself we'll treat you
as politely as you treated us, except that we shall be compelled to keep
you a prisoner, in case you should try again to turn the tables on us."
The ship had now been brought round; the head-yards were squared, and
the course laid for Waterford. Still there was a great deal to be done;
it was necessary to secure the prisoners, so that there might be no risk
of their rising. Jacques Busson was a powerful and determined fellow,
and he would to a certainty, if he had the opportunity, get free and try
to set his countrymen at liberty. The lieutenant also, though addicted
to sleeping soundly, was likely to be wide enough awake for the future,
and would in all probability try to regain possession of the ship. He
was therefore requested to confine himself to his cabin.
"I am sorry to treat you so inhospitably," said Captain Tracy, "but
necessity compels me, and I hope that it will be but for a short time.
I must warn you, however, if you attempt to break out, that we shall be
obliged to secure you as we have done your men; but to save you from
temptation, we shall secure your cabin door on the outside in a way
which will prevent you from doing so. If, however, you will give me
your promise not to attempt to regain your liberty, you will be treated
with no further rigour."
"I must make a virtue of necessity," answered the lieutenant; "it is a
very disagreeable one, but I submit." And without more ado he threw off
his coat and quietly turned into his cot.
"Don't trust him, Gerald, whatever he may say," whispered Captain Tracy,
"till we have the door firmly secured."
"Ay, ay, father," answered Gerald; "if he shows his face at the door
without leave, I'll make him draw it back again pretty quickly."
Pompey had been left to watch over Jacques Busson and the man who had
been serving at the wheel. He had no pistol, but instead he held in his
hand a sharp, long-bladed sheath-knife, which effectually kept the
prisoners from stirring. He evidently took especial delight in his
office, and reluctantly consented to drag Jacques Busson into a cabin,
where it was arranged that he should be confined, but at the same time
with his arms and legs firmly secured. The rest of the men were carried
down into the forecastle, and were placed in their bunks, the captain
having examined each of them to be certain that they were lashed in a
way from which they could not liberate themselves.
Morning dawned soon after these arrangements had been made. Jacques
Busson grumbled greatly at the treatment he had received.
"What for you make all dis fuss?" said Pompey, who was standing sentry
over him. "You want to take us into French port--we take you into Irish
port. Waterford berry nice place, and when we get dere we take you out
of limbo, and you live like one gentleman."
"Sacre!" answered the Frenchman, who had only caught a word or two of
what Pompey had said, "if we fall in with a French ship before we get
there, I'll pay you off, mon garcon, for nearly strangling me with your
greasy arms."
Pompey only grinned a reply. There was no use wasting words,
considering that neither understood the other's language. The
lieutenant took matters more philosophically than his inferior. He was,
however, not to be trusted, and either Gerald or Dan kept watch at his
door with a loaded pistol. The arms and legs of the other men were too
securely lashed to afford much risk of their getting loose; still, a
trusty man was stationed over them, as there was no doubt that they
would make the attempt could they gain the opportunity, and if one could
cast off his lashings he might speedily set the others at liberty.
The sea was smooth; the sun shone brightly; and the _Ouzel Galley_ made
good way towards Waterford. She was, however, upwards of a hundred
miles from that port, and might before reaching it fall in with another
French ship. She was, indeed, now in a part of the ocean in which
privateers were likely to be cruising, on the look-out for
homeward-bound vessels. It was necessary, therefore, to avoid any
strange sail till her character could be positively ascertained. A hand
was accordingly stationed aloft to give timely notice should a sail
appear in sight. This, of course, weakened the crew, who were already
insufficient to work the ship; the wounded men, though they had aided in
overpowering the Frenchmen, were but little capable of performing
continuous work. Owen felt his wound very painful, yet he persisted in
attending to his duty, and could scarcely be persuaded to lie down on
the sofa for a short time to rest, while the captain took his watch on
deck. Gerald was highly applauded by his father and Owen for his
courage and judgment, which had so much contributed to the recapture of
the vessel; even the French lieutenant expressed his admiration of the
way he had behaved.
"If young English boys are so brave and cool, no wonder that we should
have been overpowered," he observed. "I only wish that we had had a
French boy on board, and it is not impossible that he might have
discovered your plot and counteracted it. The next time I have charge
of a prize, I will place a French boy to watch the English boys, and
then we shall see which is the sharpest."
"I don't know which may prove the sharpest, but I am ready to fight any
two French boys of my own age I have ever met in my life," answered
Gerald, laughing; "first one come on, and then the other, or both
together, provided they'll keep in front, or let me have a wall at my
back, when they're welcome to do their worst."
"Ah, you are too boastful," said the lieutenant.
"Pardon me, monsieur, not at all. I am only sticking up for the honour
of Old Ireland," answered Gerald.
The _Ouzel Galley_ was drawing nearer to her port, and the chances of
recapture diminished; still there was another night's run, and no one
liked to boast till they were out of the fire. The crew of the _Ouzel
Galley_ were pretty well worn out, and it was with the greatest
difficulty many of them could keep their eyes open. Perhaps the
Frenchmen counted on this, and the hope that they yet might regain their
liberty prevented them from losing their spirits, and they amused
themselves by singing snatches of songs and every now and then shouting
out to each other. They were also well supplied with food, and as much
grog as they chose to drink.
"It's shure to comfort their hearts," observed Dan, as he went round
with a big can and a tin cup; "besides, they'll be less likely to prove
troublesome."
The night came on; the captain, Owen, and Gerald did their best to
encourage the men and to urge them to keep awake, however sleepy they
might feel, continually going among them and reminding them that in a
few hours more they might turn in and sleep for as many hours as they
might like at a stretch, without the fear of being knocked on the head
and thrown overboard. "And, my lads," observed the captain, "if the
Frenchmen retake us, depend upon it that's the way we shall be treated--
they'll not give us another chance."
The only person who slept that night was Norah, who, although she had
not gone through any physical exertion, had felt more anxiety than any
one, from knowing the risk those whom she loved were about to run. It
would be difficult to describe her feelings as she saw her father and
Owen steal upon dock to attack the man at the helm; and often during
that night she started up, believing that the scene was again being
enacted.
The wind continued fair; the _Ouzel Galley_ held on her course, and no
suspicious sail came near her during the night.