A Naval Encounter
In the ordinary way the immediate prospect of an encounter at sea
might be expected to rouse qualms in the breast of a novice, and we
cannot affirm that Tom would have been any exception to the rule
on this his first meeting aboard an English frigate with a French
man-of-war. But there was so much else to attract his attention.
Even in those days the wooden walls of our stout ships contained
sufficient to interest even a dullard, and to a lad of active brain,
as was our hero, there were things to watch and marvel at, while the
men themselves grouped in the 'tween decks were quite a study. They
stood about their guns stripped to the waist, joking and merry, the
master of each gun with his eye on the sights. Close at hand a lad
sat on a long narrow tub filled to the brim with powder.
"Powder monkeys we call 'em," said Jim in a hoarse whisper. "The
young villains! They're always up to some sort o' mischief, and when
it comes to fighting, blest if they wouldn't take on the whole of
Boney's fleet alone. They ain't the lads to squeak. If we fetch up
alongside the Frenchman, and there's a call for boarding parties,
them imps is amongst the first to answer."
"Stand ready!" the order came at this moment, and turning his head
Tom caught a glimpse of Mr. Riley, still with a long glass beneath
his arm, his sword belted to his side, and his shapely form bent so
as to allow him to peer through one of the ports. "Stand ready, men,"
he shouted. "Gun layers train your sights on the enemy and aim low.
Between wind and water is the mark, lads!"
The crew of the guns answered him with a cheer, and for a while gun
layers stretched over the weapons they commanded, sighting for the
enemy. Tom watched as Jim squinted along the sights, and then peered
out at the French ship of the line. She was bowling along before a
fresh breeze, heeling well over, so that half her deck showed. He
could see a mass of men on it, and others running to and fro, while
quite a number were clambering into the rigging.
"Shows she means to come right up close," said Jim in his gruff
way. "That'll suit us nicely. Hammer and tongs is the best sort of
fighting for us boys, and we don't get it too often. She's going to
run right in and when there's a broadside it'll be a close one, and
thunder won't be in it."
"Stand by to fire!" was heard through the 'tween decks, while an
instant later there came a roar from the deck above, a trembling
and shaking of the whole vessel which all could feel, and then the
rumble of wheels as the guns were run in, sponged out and reloaded.
By now the enemy had disappeared from sight behind a huge cloud of
smoke, which, however, was whisked away swiftly by the breeze. It
was a minute later, perhaps, when the French battleship was again
visible, that Mr. Riley gave the order to fire, and Tom was witness
of the result for the first time in his life. Jim touched the vent of
the gun with his portfire, and instantly a squirt of flame and smoke
shot upward. There was a huge commotion in the gun itself. Though
braced into position by numerous cables it started backward, drawing
them as tight as iron bars, while the wheels thudded heavily on their
runners. The commotion was accompanied by that of every other gun on
that deck in the broadside, while the ship herself shook from end
to end. The roar of the discharge was indescribable, and deafened
him, while the 'tween decks was instantly filled with volumes of
sulphurous smoke.
"Slack off! Haul her back, boys!" came in stentorian notes from Jim.
"Run her in quick. Now with the sponge rods, and we'll have a second
charge into her before the smoke's cleared."
Five minutes later Mr. Riley's voice was heard. "Stand by for another
broadside," he bellowed. "Double shot your guns next time--ah!"
The frigate quivered from end to end; she seemed to have been struck
by a cyclone. An iron hail beat on her sides, bursting them in in
many directions, while splinters of iron and wood flew across the
'tween decks, striking men down in many directions. In one brief
second the orderliness of the place was transformed to the most utter
disorder, as the enemy had answered the frigate's broadside with one
of her own. Tom looked about him wonderingly, dazed by the commotion
and astounded at what he saw. For by now the wind blowing in at the
open ports had cleared all the smoke away, and he could see all that
was happening in the 'tween decks. There lay the gun on his right a
wreck, turned on its side, its muzzle crushed out of sight, two of
its wheels broken and half-buried in the deck. What had before been
a square porthole was now an irregular, torn opening, through which
a vast expanse of sea could be watched. But it was the poor wretches
who had manned the gun who claimed his greatest attention. Five of
them lay mangled upon the deck, with pools of blood accumulating
about them and draining off towards the scuppers in trickles and
streams. On the port side, opposite where the gun had stood, three
men had been struck by the missile, and lay silent and motionless.
Elsewhere there were rents in the side of the frigate, and men lay
about in all postures, some moaning, others silent, nursing a wounded
arm or leg. This was war; this was the treatment meted out by one
nation to another.
But of loss of discipline there was none. If the 'tween decks was in
disorder there was order amongst the men, and no flinching. Already
the surgeon's mates and helpers were carrying the wounded away
towards the ladder leading to the cockpit, while at every gun stood
its crew, immovable and ready, waiting the word of the officer. As
for the enemy, the shapely lines of the French man-of-war had changed
wonderfully, for she was so near now that one could see distinctly.
The white deck, still careened towards the frigate, was seamed and
scarred and torn. One mast lay over her rail, the sails towing in
the water, and her sides were marked by shot holes, two of her ports
having been converted into one by an enormous rent that extended
between them.
A dull cheer resounded through the frigate; the men in the 'tween
decks took it up lustily, and then came again that commotion above.
The vessel shivered, shot and flame and smoke belched from the ports
on the upper deck, the roar being followed once again by the rumble
of gun wheels on their metal runners.
"Fire!" Mr. Riley stood halfway up the ladder leading to the upper
deck and waved his cocked hat at the crews under his own command.
Crash! went the broadside. Tom watched the powder at the vent squirt
upward in flame and smoke as on a previous occasion, and then sprang
to the cables as Jim's husky voice called to his own crew to draw the
gun in and reload.
[Illustration: "CRASH! WENT THE BROADSIDE"]
"Double shot; don't forget," bellowed Mr. Riley, and obedient to the
order the loaders thrust first one and then a second huge iron ball
into the gaping muzzles. In the middle of the operation there came
a resounding discharge from the enemy, while huge columns of smoke
hid her sides. But the shot failed to strike the frigate, for a few
seconds earlier the commander had put his helm up and had sheered
off towards the Frenchman. It was a clever manoeuvre, and made a
wonderful difference to the fight in progress. For the enemy had
received four successive broadsides now, and had returned only one
effective one, and that not so effective as it might have been had
the ships been nearer. Added to that, it was less than five minutes
later when the gunners on the port side got their sights aligned on
the enemy, and a simultaneous broadside was delivered by the guns of
the upper and 'tween decks. Then the commander swung his helm again
and made across the stern of the Frenchman.
"Stand ready," sang out Mr. Riley again, his eyes glued upon the
man-of-war. "Layers concentrate on the stern. In one minute, men; in
one minute we shall be there. Now! Fire!"
Running round in a circle after crossing in the wake of the
Frenchman, the frigate had gone about after emptying her complete
port broadside, and had then swept round in rear of the enemy.
It was a manoeuvre which, if not quickly carried out, might have
ended in disaster. But nothing occurred to disturb it, while the
Frenchman, impeded by his broken mast and the sail dragging in
the water--and slowed considerably thereby--was unable to counter
the movement by swinging also. It followed, therefore, that the
frigate had an enormous advantage, and, making the most of this,
crossed and recrossed the rear of the enemy, emptying first the
starboard broadside and then every gun on the port side. As for the
French battleship, her guns were useless. Not one of her broadsides
could be brought to bear, and though she sheered off to the south
a little, the commander was at once able to alter his own position
correspondingly.
"It's a victory," said Jim, with elation. "The man that laid the
gun that brought down that mast deserves to be made an admiral this
minute. It's saved lives aboard this ship, boys. It's won the battle."
"Shall we board her now?" asked Tom, who was densely ignorant of
naval matters.
"Board her! Not us!" cried Jim. "Where's the use? She carries two or
three men to every man jack of us, and would have all the chances
if we boarded, not that I say as we wouldn't do the business. But
we've the best of it like this. She's cut that mast adrift, but
it'll be hours before she can refit, and meanwhile we've the legs of
her. We've only to keep here, astern, plugging shot into her all the
while, and she's bound to give in before long. Of course she can't do
that yet awhile. That wouldn't be fighting, and I'm bound to say that
the Frenchies are good at the game, almost as good as we are. She'll
hold on and endeavour to best us; but she'll have to haul down her
colours before very long. Ah! What'd I say? Look at 'em!"
The flag of France flying aloft on the enemy was seen to flutter. It
dropped a foot or two and then came down with a run. Instantly a
hoarse bellow resounded through the frigate. Men gripped hands and
cheered, the shouts coming from every deck. Even the wounded, who had
not all been removed, sat up with an effort and cheered as best they
could.
"Silence, men," came from Mr. Riley at this moment, and turning they
saw him standing halfway up the ladder, bent so that the men could
see his face. "Stand to your guns all the while; don't draw charges
till you get the order. Jim there, from No. 4 gun, send me four of
your men to join the boarding party."
Tom noticed that the officer had been wounded, for he carried one arm
in a sling, and there were stains of blood on his breeches. He was
wondering how he had come by the wound, when Jim struck him heavily
on the back.
"Avast dreamin' there, me hearty," he shouted hoarsely, still elated
at what had happened. "Get off to the officer and go aboard the ship.
You'll see something to interest you."
Tom wanted no more coaxing; he dropped the cable on which he had been
hauling and went at a run towards the ladder, followed by the other
men. They kept close on the heels of Mr. Riley, and in a twinkling
were on the main deck. There the commander was now stationed, and
about him a group of officers and men.
"Ah, there you are, Mr. Riley!" he exclaimed. "We'll go aboard in the
cutter, taking three men from each deck. Step in, my lads."
Tom scrambled into the boat with the crew, and watched as it was
lowered away. He was filled with amazement, first that a boat of such
proportions as the cutter could support so many men when hung to her
davits, and then that she could be safely lowered with such a load to
the water. Meanwhile he noticed the high sides of the frigate, the
officer up on the quarterdeck, and the men of the watch away aloft in
the rigging. The frigate lay inert, her sails flapping, while, almost
a quarter of a mile away now, the French ship lay in the water,
slowly heaving up and down, with a peculiar and significant twist in
one of her masts.
"Struck by our broadsides as we passed and repassed," Mr. Riley told
him as they were lowered away, for the officer happened to be close
to our hero. "She had bad luck. It's rare that one brings down a mast
at the first discharge, and that of course proved her undoing; the
loss of the second makes her useless for fighting purposes. This has
been a gallant action and will give us no end of credit. Ah, there
goes a recall gun!"
A spout of flame and smoke belched from the frigate a little above
the heads of the men in the cutter, for the latter had now reached
the water, and turning his head Tom watched the ball discharged
strike the sea some two hundred yards ahead of the small sloop that
had been sailing in company of the battleship, and which had now
changed her course.
"She'll not disobey the order," reflected Mr. Riley. "Once we are
aboard the enemy the frigate could sink that vessel within ten
minutes. There go her sails aback; she'll swing round and come in
like a docile dog. Now, lad, clamber aboard when we reach the ship;
you come as one of my escort."
"You're wounded, sir," said Tom. "Let me fasten that sling for you
again; it's too long, and doesn't support the arm."
He undid the knot with the help of fingers and teeth and then
rearranged the sling. By the time he had finished they were under the
counter of the French battleship, to which a man at the stern and
bows of the cutter clung with a boathook. At once a midshipman sprang
at a dangling rope ladder and went swarming up with the agility of a
monkey, two of the crew following. Tom picked up a coil of rope and
without a question made a noose fast round the waist of the officer
who had already befriended him.
"I'll get aboard and help to haul you up, sir," he said. "You'd never
manage to clamber up that ladder with one arm wounded."
He waited for no orders, but, springing at the ladder, went
scrambling up, the end of the rope secured between his teeth. A
minute later Mr. Riley was being hoisted to the deck of the French
battleship. Then the commander followed, and after him more of the
crew, with two officers.
Tom found himself looking down upon a scene which was almost
indescribable; for the ship had been cruelly mauled by the broadsides
of the frigate. There were a dozen holes in her deck, where shot
had penetrated, while in many places the rails were driven in. A
dismounted gun lay in one of the scuppers, with part of her crew
crushed beneath it; and from end to end of the ship there were
signs of the awful havoc the iron tempest had created. Men lay in
all directions and in all postures. The damaged mast swung by the
starboard halyards and threatened to fall inboard at any moment,
while a huge stretch of crumpled and shot-holed canvas covered one
portion of the deck. To add to the scene of ruin, smoke and flames
were belching from a hatch towards the stern of the quarterdeck, and
some fifty sailors were endeavouring to quench the conflagration
with water cast from buckets. Almost opposite the spot where the
ladder dangled, and where the victors had come aboard, was a group of
officers, and in their centre one seated on a chair, pallid to the
lips and obviously wounded. The commander went towards him instantly
and took him by the hand.
"You are hurt?" he asked. "You have fought your ship gallantly, but
fortune was against you. Go to your quarters, please. I will take no
sword from an officer of such courage."
He put aside the sword that was offered him so feebly, and signed to
men of his crew to lift the injured officer. Then he shook hands with
the other Frenchmen present, many of whom shed tears as they replaced
their swords in their scabbards.
"Ah, monsieur," said one, who seemed to be the second in command, "it
was the fortune of war, but bad fortune for us. With that mast shot
away we were helpless, and then your broadsides poured into our stern
tore the lengths of the decks, and did terrible damage. Our poor
fellows were shot down in heaps. War, monsieur, is a terror."
None could fail to admit that who visited the French ship, for what
had been a well-found, trim vessel was now a shambles. It turned Tom
sick and faint when he looked about him, so that he was forced to
cling to the rail. But a moment later, when Mr. Riley called him, he
was able to pull himself together.
"We're to go aboard the sloop and see what she is," he called. "Help
to lower me into the cutter."
Half an hour later Tom clambered up the side of the smaller vessel,
and hauled his officer up after him. They found a French midshipman
in command of a crew of five, while beneath the hatches there were
three prisoners.
"Release them," Mr. Riley ordered; and, taking a couple of the French
crew with him, Tom saw the hatch lifted, and called to the men below
to come up. The smart uniform of an officer showed through the square
hatch at once, and in a moment or two a youth stood on the deck
before him, whom one would have said was British to the backbone.
"Ensign Jack Barwood, 60th Rifles, sir," he reported, drawing
himself up in front of Mr. Riley and saluting. "Going out to join my
regiment, this little sloop in which I had taken passage was held up
by a French man-of-war. Our men were taken off, that is, the crew.
I and two of my own men were left here as prisoners. We heard heavy
firing, and guessed there was an action. What has happened?"
Mr. Riley turned and pointed at the French prize won by the frigate.
"We beat her," he said, with pride in his tones. "You've had luck to
escape so early from a French prison. Where were you bound for?"
"In the first place, Oporto," came the answer. "Later, as a prisoner,
for Bayonne. Now, I suppose, we shall have to return to England?"
As it turned out, however, it was to Oporto that the little sloop
made.
"The frigate makes for home at once," Mr. Riley reported, when he had
rowed back to the ship, and had again come out to the sloop. "She
sails in company with her prize, and no doubt the homecoming will be
a fine triumph. I have orders to take this sloop to Oporto, there to
hand over this young fellow to the authorities."
He pointed to Tom and smiled, while the ensign, turning upon
our hero, surveyed him with amazement, and with some amount of
superciliousness if the truth be told.
"Pardon, sir," he said, "I don't understand."
"Of course not," came the smiling answer; "nor does he. Come here,
Tom."
Our hero, as may be imagined, was just as dumbfounded as the ensign;
for though Mr. Riley had been wonderfully kind to him from the
beginning, his manner had suddenly changed. He addressed him as if
he were an equal, not as if he were one of the crew.
"I'll explain," he smiled, seeing the bewilderment expressed by both
young fellows. "While the action was passing between us and the
man-of-war our lookouts reported a sail in the offing. She has come
up to us since, and turns out to be a smaller frigate than ourselves.
But the point is this--she left the Thames after us, and has
carried a brisk breeze with her all the way. She asked at once for
information concerning a young fellow brought aboard just before we
weighed, who had been impressed by a gang having quarters near London
Bridge. That, sir, is the young fellow."
He pointed at Tom, whom the ensign still regarded in amazement.
"The whole thing has been cleared up, of course," said Mr. Riley.
"There is no longer any doubt that this gentleman is the son of Mr.
Septimus John Clifford, wine merchant, of London Bridge."
"Eh?" suddenly interjected the ensign, staring hard at Tom.
"Clifford, of London Bridge. Well, I'm bothered! Why, Tom, don't you
know me?"
It must be confessed that our hero was somewhat taken aback. In this
young officer so much above himself, clad in the handsome uniform
of the 60th Rifles, he had not recognized an old friend. Indeed his
attention had been centred on his own officer. But now, when Jack
Barwood lifted his cap, Tom recognized him at once, and gave vent to
a shout of delight.
"Why, it's you!" he cried, gripping the hand extended. "Haven't seen
you since--now when did we meet last?"
"Time you licked that cub of a grocer's boy," laughed Jack, who
seemed to be just such another as our hero, and who was evidently a
jovial fellow. "He passed when we were with your cousin, and grinned
and sauced you. You were at him in a jiffy."
Mr. Riley laughed loudly when he heard what was passing. "Why, he's
been at one of our men aboard the frigate," he cried. "Hammered him
badly just before we fell in with the Frenchman. He's a tiger."
"He's a demon to fight, is Tom, sir," laughed Jack. "Ask him how we
became acquainted."
"Eh? How?" asked the officer curiously, and then pressed the question
when he saw that Tom had gone a crimson colour and was looking
sheepish. "Eh?" he repeated.
"He's pretending to have forgotten," shouted Jack, enjoying the
situation. "I'll tell the tale. It was at school one day. Tom was
chewing toffee, mine had disappeared from a pocket. I tackled him
with the theft, and we went hammer and tongs for one another. It was
a busy time for us for some ten minutes."
"Ah!" smiled Mr. Riley. "Who won?"
"Drawn battle," exclaimed Tom, somewhat sulkily.
"I had a licking," laughed Jack. "It was a certainty for him from the
beginning."
"Not surprised," came from the officer. "And the toffee?"
"Eh?" asked Jack.
"The toffee you accused him of stealing?" asked Mr. Riley. "You found
it later?"
"In another pocket--yes," admitted Jack, with a delightful grin.
"I deserved that hiding; it made us fast friends. So Tom's been
impressed."
"By the machinations of his cousin."
That caused Tom to lift his head and come nearer. He had wondered
time and again how that impressment had been brought about, whether
by accident or design, and had never been able to bring himself to
believe that José was responsible. Mr. Riley's words made him open
his ears.
"You are sure, sir?" he asked.
"The commander has letters from your father with positive proof.
However, things seemed to have happened fortunately. You are to be
taken to Oporto after all, and here you meet with an old friend.
Things couldn't have been better. Now I shall leave you both aboard
while I go to get together a crew. We'll set a course for Oporto when
I return, and ought to reach the place inside the week. Tom, you'll
no longer be a sailor before the mast. I have the commander's orders
to take you as a passenger, or, if you wish it, to appoint you an
officer for the time being. How's that?"
It was all delightful hearing; and when at length the sloop turned
her bows for Oporto, leaving the frigate to sail away with her
prize, and incidentally to carry Tom's letter to his father in
England, the party aboard the little vessel could not have been
merrier.
"You'll have to turn soldier yet," declared Jack to our hero,
standing so that the latter could inspect his uniform, and indeed the
young fellow cut such a neat figure that Tom was even more tempted
than formerly. For Jack was slimmer and shorter than he, while the
few months of training he had experienced had taught him to hold
himself erect. A jollier and more careless ensign never existed. It
can be said with truth that, had the fortunes of the troops in the
Peninsula depended on Jack's wisdom and military knowledge, disaster
would promptly have overtaken our arms. He was just one of those
jolly, inconsequential sort of fellows, always skylarking, always gay
and laughing, who go through the world as if serious subjects were
not in existence.
"Hooray for the life of a soldier!" he shouted, knowing Tom's ardent
wishes that way, and anxious to fill him with envy. "Who'd ever sit
on a stool and sweat over books in an office?"
"I'll lick you if you don't stop short," growled Tom sourly, and yet
laughing for all that; for who could take Jack seriously? "Who knows,
I may be a leader of troops before you have cut your wisdom teeth?
Who knows?"
Who could guess the future indeed? Not Tom. Not the jovial,
thoughtless Jack. Not even the wise Mr. Riley, with all his
experience of the sea and of the men who go upon it. It seemed that
Oporto would receive them in the course of a few days, and that
Jack and Tom would there part. But within twenty-four hours of that
conversation the scene was changed. Two vessels raised their peaks
from the offing, and, sailing nearer, declared themselves as French.
They overhauled the little sloop, in spite of a spread of canvas that
threatened to press her beneath the water. And that evening Tom and
his companions were prisoners.
"My uncle! What awful luck!" groaned Jack, in the depths of despair,
as is often the case with high-mettled people when reverses come
along. "No soldiering, Tom; no office for you. I'd prefer that to a
prison."
"It's the fortune of war," exclaimed Mr. Riley with resignation. "For
me it makes no great difference. The wound I received aboard the
frigate has not improved, and, even if I become a prisoner, I shall
receive proper treatment, which is impossible aboard this sloop. I'm
sorry for you two young fellows."
"Pooh, sir," smiled Tom, "we'll give 'em the slip! Seems to me I'm
not meant for Oporto yet awhile. We'll give 'em the slip, and then
I'll take on as a soldier."
"Slip? How?" asked Jack, somewhat staggered, for the idea had not
occurred to him.
"Depends; couldn't say now how we'll bring it about. But we'll manage
it some way. I speak Spanish and Portuguese and a little French. If
with those advantages we can't manage the business, well, we're only
fit for a prison."
"Hooray!" shouted the excited Jack; whereat one of the French
officers accosted them angrily. But Tom quickly appeased him.
"Where do we get landed, _Monsieur le Lieutenant_?" he asked politely.
"Ah, you speak our tongue! That is good," came the more pleasant
answer. "But where you land I cannot say; you will be sent with
troops to the north of Spain, and so to a prison."
It was not very cheering news, but Tom made the best of it.
"I don't put my nose into a French prison if I can help it!" he
declared, in that particular tone of voice to which Jack had grown
accustomed when they were chums at school.
"And he won't!" declared the latter. "I know Tom well--a pig-headed,
stubborn beggar from his cradle. Tom'll give 'em the slip, and we
with him. One thing seems all right in the meanwhile--there's grub
and drink in plenty. I never could stand starvation; I'd rather go to
prison."
But whatever thoughts they may have had as regards escaping were set
aside when they landed. Putting in at an obscure port, Tom and his
friends found a squadron of horsemen waiting to receive them, for the
ship had flown signals. The three friends, together with the two men
belonging to Jack's regiment, were given horses, while a trooper
took their reins, two other men riding close to each one of them. And
then they set off across a barren country, which, however fair it may
have been in other days, was burned black, stripped of all eatables,
while those villages which had not been swallowed by the flames were
wrecked and useless.
"You will be careful not to attempt an escape," said the officer
in command of the squadron, speaking to Tom, the only one of the
prisoners who could understand him. "I have given orders for the
troopers to shoot at the first attempt. We ride now to join our main
army, and through a country inhabited by people who would flay us
alive if they could catch us. Let that alone warn you not to attempt
escape. The Portuguese peasants are more dangerous than my soldiers."
He shouted to the head of the column, set his own horse in motion,
and led the way at a pace that threatened to be trying. It was
obvious, in fact, that he was anxious to reach the summit of the
hills near at hand, and not to be found in the open when night fell.
As for Tom and his friends, the outlook seemed hopeless; an attempt
at escape meant a bullet from their guard. And, even were they
successful, they were in a country where bands of peasants scoured
the valleys murdering all who were too weak to oppose them. It looked
indeed as if a French prison would shortly shelter them, and as if
there Jack's military career would come to a halt before it had
actually begun, while Tom's ambitions in that direction would be cut
in twain and end only in bitter disappointment.