The _Terrible_ was not allowed to remain long idle, for those were
stirring times, as there were Frenchmen and Spaniards, and the Dutch and
Americans to fight; indeed, all the great maritime countries of the
world were leagued against Old England to deprive her, as they hoped, of
the supremacy of the sea. Again the _Terrible_ was under weigh,
standing for the Leeward Islands to join the squadron of Sir George
Brydges Rodney. A day or two after she sailed, the surgeon came to the
Captain with an unusually long face.
"What is the matter, Doctor Macbride?" asked Captain Penrose.
"I'm sorry to say, sir, that we have two cases of yellow fever on
board," was the answer.
"What, Yellow Jack--my old enemy?" exclaimed the Captain, trying to look
less concerned than he felt. "Turn him out then--kick him away--get rid
of him as fast as possible, that's all I can say."
"More easily said than done, I fear, sir," answered the surgeon, who was
well aware that his Captain was more anxious than he would allow; for,
from sad experience, he well knew that when once that scourge of the
West Indies attacks the crew of a ship, it is impossible to say how many
may be the victims, and when it may disappear.
"You are right, doctor. We must do our best, though, and put our trust
in Providence," answered the Captain gravely. "Let the men be on deck
as much as possible. We will have their provisions carefully looked to,
and we must have their minds amused. Let Sam Smatch keep his fiddle
going. Fear of the foe kills many, I believe. Now if we could meet an
enemy, and have a good warm engagement, we should soon put Yellow Jack
and him to flight together. And I say, doctor, don't let the men see
that you are concerned any more than I am."
After a little further conversation, the doctor took his departure.
The ship continued her course across the Caribbean Sea, with light winds
and under the hottest of suns; and the fever, instead of disappearing,
stealthily crept on, attacking one man after another, till fifty or
sixty of the crew were down with it. Death came, too, and carried off
one fine fellow, and then another and another, sometimes five or six in
one day. At last there was a cessation, and the spirits of the sick as
well as of the healthy revived; and Sam Smatch set to work and fiddled
away most lustily, and the crew danced and sang, and tried to forget
that there was such a thing as Yellow Jack on board. Several of the
sick got better, and even the doctor's and the Captain's spirits
revived. Once more it fell calm, and, as the Captain was walking the
quarterdeck, Dr Macbride came up to him with a grave face.
"What is the matter now, doctor?" he asked in as cheerful a voice as he
could command; for whatever he felt in private, he would not allow
himself to appear out of spirits before his officers or crew. "What!
not driven the yellow demon overboard yet? Kick him--trounce him--get
rid of him somehow!"
"I am sorry to say, sir, that he has attacked the women," answered the
doctor. "Betty Snell is very ill, and Mrs Bolton is evidently
sickening. What the motherless baby will do, I cannot say. Probably
that will die too, and so be provided for."
"Heaven forbid!" said the Captain, "for the honest father's sake. The
child will have plenty of nurses. We must not forget poor Molly--how
nobly she braved Yellow Jack himself when the sick wanted her aid! We
all are bound to look after the baby. The sooner it is taken away from
the poor woman the better. Let me see. Tell Paul Pringle to go and get
the baby and bring it up to my cabin. That is the most airy and healthy
place for the little chap. We must rig out a cot for it there.
Freeborn himself would feel bashful at taking his child there. Either
he or Pringle must act as nurse, though. I have no fancy for having one
of the ship's boys making the attempt. They would be feeding him with
salt beef and duff, or smothering him; and as for waking when he cries
at night, there would be little chance of their hearing him. But I will
go below with you, doctor, and visit the poor people. Come along."
Saying this, the good Captain descended to the lower-deck with the
surgeon. The weather side of the ship forward had been screened off and
appropriated to the sick. As he appeared, those who were conscious
lifted up their heads and welcomed him with a look of pleasure; but many
were raving and shrieking in the delirium of fever, and others, worn out
by its attacks, were sunk in stupor from which they were not to awake.
Then the Captain visited the berth of the two women. Mrs Bolton was
still struggling in a vain attempt to ward off the disease, and
endeavouring to nurse poor little Billy; but she could scarcely lift her
hand to feed him, and evidently a sickness and faintness was stealing
over her.
The Captain said nothing, but going out, sent a boy to call Paul
Pringle. He soon returned with Paul, who, stooping down, said quietly,
"Here, Mrs Bolton, you feels sick and tired, I know you does. You've
had hard times looking after Betty Snell, and I'll just dandle the
youngster for you a bit. You know you can have him again when you feels
better and rested like."
Thus appealed to, poor Nancy gave up the baby to Paul, who dandled it
about before her for a minute; then as she was casting an affectionate
glance at it, he disappeared along the deck with his charge. It was the
last look she ever took of the infant she had nursed with almost a
mother's care. Her husband was sent for. In a short time she was
raving, and before that hour the next day both she and Betty were no
longer among the living. Their loss was severely felt, not only by
their husbands, but by all the crew. They and forty of the men were
committed to the deep before the termination of the passage.
At last the _Terrible_ reached Gros Islet Bay, in the Island of Saint
Lucia, that island having been captured by the English from the French.
In a short time a considerable fleet collected there, under Admiral Sir
George Rodney and Rear-Admiral Hyde Parker. Still the fever continued
on board the _Terrible_ and several other ships.
"Nothing but the fire of the enemy will cure us, Sir George, I fear,"
observed Captain Penrose when paying a visit one day on board the
flagship.
"Then, my dear Penrose, I hope that we shall not have long to wait, for
they are collecting in force, I hear, round the Island of Martinique;
and the moment the fleet is ready for sea, we'll go out and have a brush
with them," was the Admiral's answer.
This news was received with joy by every man in the fleet, and all
exerted themselves more than ever to hasten its equipment. The Captain
had some idea of leaving little Billy on shore, but both Freeborn and
Pringle begged so hard that he might be allowed to remain that the
Captain gave up the point.
"I don't know how long I may be with the little chap," observed poor
Will. "It would break my heart to be separated from him; and if we go
into action, we'll stow him away safe in the hold, and he'll be better
off there than among foreign strangers on shore who don't care a bit for
him."
There was much truth in this remark, and so little True Blue still
continued under charge of his rough-looking protectors. It is
extraordinary how well and tenderly they managed to nurse him and feed
him, and how carefully they washed him and put on his tiny garments.
Paul Pringle was even a greater adept than his own father; and more than
once the Captain could scarcely refrain from laughing as he saw the big,
huge-whiskered quartermaster in a side cabin, seated on one bucket, with
another full of salt water before him, an apron, made out of a piece of
canvas, round his waist, and a large sponge, with a piece of soap in his
hand, washing away at the little fellow. The baby seemed to enjoy the
cold water amazingly, and kicked and splashed about, and spluttered and
cooed with abundant glee, greatly to Paul's delight.
"Ah, I knowed it. He'll be a regular salt from truck to kelson!" he
exclaimed, looking at the little fellow affectionately, and holding him
up so as to let his head just float above water. "He'll astonish them
some of these days. Depend on't, Will," he added, turning to Freeborn,
who had come in to have a look at his child.
The Captain had directed the hammocks of the two men to be slung in this
cabin, and little True Blue had a cot slung along close to the deck; so
that if by chance he had tumbled out, he would not have been much the
worse for it. As the father and his friend were in different watches,
they were able, under ordinary circumstances, to relieve each other in
nursing the baby; but when any heavy work was to be done, and the
services of both of them were required on deck, Sam Smatch, who was not
fit even for ordinary idlers' work, was called in to act nurse.
This was an employment in which Sam especially delighted, and he would
have bargained for a gale of wind any day in the week for the sake of
having to take care of little True Blue. Billy, from the first, never
objected to his black face, but cooed and smiled, and was greatly
delighted whenever he appeared. Sam altogether took wonderfully to the
baby, and used to declare that he loved it as much as he did his own
fiddle, if not more. He would not say positively--both were his
delight--both squeaked; but his fiddle was his older friend. Billy,
indeed, never wanted nurses, and there was not a man on board who was
not happy to get him to look after. The greatest risk he ran was from
over-kindness, or from having a tumble among the numerous candidates for
the pleasure of dandling him when once they got him among them on the
maindeck; and no set of schoolgirls could make a more eager rush to
snatch up the little child left among them, than did the big-bearded,
whiskered, and pig-tailed tars to catch hold of Billy True Blue.
Among the other candidates for the pleasure of nursing little Billy was
a young midshipman, known generally as Natty Garland. He had been
seized with the fever, and been carried, for better nursing, into the
Captain's cabin. This was his first voyage away from home, where he had
left many brothers and sisters. It was nearly proving his last.
Although he looked so slight and delicate, however, he did recover; but
it was some time before he was fit for duty.
Devoted to his profession, Natty Garland, in spite of his delicate
appearance, became a first-rate, bold, and intelligent seaman, liked by
his Captain, respected by his superior officers and his messmates, and
an especial favourite with the men.
Just before Sir George Rodney had entered Gros Islet Bay, the French
fleet, consisting of twenty-five sail of line-of-battle ships and eight
frigates, under Admiral Count de Guichen, had been haughtily parading
before the island, trying to draw out the then small and unprepared
squadron of Rear-Admiral Hyde Parker. The British officers and men
fumed and growled at the insult, longing for an opportunity of paying
off the vapouring Frenchmen. Never, therefore, were anchors weighed
with greater alacrity than when the signal was seen from Admiral
Rodney's ship for the fleet to make sail and stand out to sea. A course
was steered for Fort Royal Bay, in the Island of Martinique, where the
French fleet was then supposed to be. The English fleet consisted in
all only of twenty line-of-battle ships and two frigates, but their
inferiority in point of numbers in no way made the British seamen less
eager to encounter the enemy.
Now the former order of things was reversed; the smaller fleet was
blockading the larger, which was equally prepared for battle. It was a
beautiful sight to see the stout ships, with their white canvas set alow
and aloft, as they glided over the blue sea in front of the harbour
containing their vaunting enemy. In vain they tacked and wore, and
stood backwards and forwards, never losing sight of the harbour's mouth.
Every opportunity of fighting was offered, but the Frenchmen dared not
come out.
At length Admiral Rodney, disgusted with the pusillanimity of the enemy,
returned to his anchorage in Gros Islet Bay with most of the
line-of-battle ships, leaving only a squadron of the faster sailing
copper-bottomed ships and frigates to watch the enemy's motions, and to
give him notice should they attempt to escape. The seamen little
doubted that they would soon have a brush with the enemy. Among all,
none seemed to anticipate a battle with greater satisfaction than Will
Freeborn. His spirits rose higher by far than they had done since the
death of his wife; and that evening, when Sam Smatch struck up a
hornpipe on the forecastle, no one footed it more merrily than did he.
"All right," observed Paul, "I'm glad Will's himself again. Poor Molly,
she'd be pleased to see him happy--that I know she would, good soul."
Whether Will's heart was as light as his feet might be doubted. Several
days passed, and the Frenchmen kept snug at their anchors. "They'll
move some day or other, and then we'll be at them," was the general
remark. Still there they lay. None of the English crews was allowed to
go on shore; but the ships were kept ready to weigh at a moment's
notice. Daylight had just broken on the 16th of April 1780, when a
frigate under a press of sail was seen approaching the bay. A signal
was flying from her masthead. It was one which made the British tars
shout with satisfaction; it was, "The French have put to sea!"
Round went the capstans, up came the anchors, the broad folds of white
canvas were let fall from the yards and sheeted home, and in the course
of a few minutes the whole fleet was under weigh and standing out to
sea. No one fiddled more lustily than did Sam Smatch, and a right merry
tune he played, while the crew of the _Terrible_ with sturdy tramp
pressed round the bars of the capstan; and never was a topsail more
speedily set than that under charge of Will Freeborn.
No sooner was the fleet clear of the harbour than the enemy was
discovered in the north-west. Instantly the signal was made from the
flagship, the _Sandwich_, for a general chase. How shrilly the
boatswains sounded their pipes, how rapidly the men flew aloft or
tramped along the decks, while sail after sail was set, till every ship
was carrying as much canvas as could by any art or contrivance be spread
on her yards! Beautiful and inspiriting was the sight. The enemy saw
them coming, but did not heave-to in order to meet them, endeavouring
rather to escape.
All day long the chase continued, and it was not until towards the
evening that, from the British ships, it could be discovered that the
Frenchmen's force consisted of no less than twenty-three sail of the
line, a fifty-gun ship, three frigates, a lugger, and a cutter.
Darkness came on, however, before the British could get up with them;
but sharp eyes all night long were eagerly watching their movements, and
few on board any of the ships could bring themselves to turn in to their
hammocks.
During the night the wind came round to the southward and east, greatly
to the satisfaction of all on board the English fleet, and when morning
broke the Frenchmen were seen close-hauled under their lee.
"What can them chaps be about now?" asked Will Freeborn of Paul Pringle
as they stood near each other before going to their respective stations.
"They are not going to sneak away after all, I hope."
"I'm not quite so sure but that they are going to try it on, though,"
answered Paul, eyeing the distant fleet of the French with no friendly
eye. "But I'll tell you what: Admiral Rodney is not the chap to let 'em
off so easily. Ah, look! they are tacking again; they see it won't do.
Hurrah! lads, we'll be at them now before long."
The cheer was taken up by others, and ran along the decks, and was
echoed from ship to ship along the British line. Every preparation was
now made for immediate action. The magazines were opened, the powder
and shot were got up, the bulkheads had long been down, the small-arms
were served out, the men bound their heads with their handkerchiefs,
threw off their jackets and shirts, buckled on their cutlasses, and
stuck pistols in their belts. Meantime, as it had been arranged, Sam
Smatch was sent to look after Billy True Blue, and to carry him down
into the hold as soon as the ship was getting within range of the
enemy's fire.
"Let me just have a look at my boy!" exclaimed Will, as Sam brought him
out on deck, as he said, to show him the enemy whom he would one day
learn to thrash.
Will took the child in his arms, and he gave a glance of affection;
then, giving little Billy back to Sam, he urged him not to delay too
long in taking him below, and sprang aloft to his post in the top, to be
ready to make any alterations that might be required in the sails while
the ship was going into action.
Some hours from sunrise passed away, during which time the fleet was
slowly approaching the reluctant enemy. It wanted but ten minutes to
noon, when the signal flew out from the masthead of the Admiral for the
fleet to bear down on the French, each ship to steer for and closely
engage the one nearest to her in the enemy's line. The order was
received with a hearty huzza. It was promptly and exactly obeyed.
Still, from the lightness of the wind, it was nearly one before the
engagement became general. And now along the whole line arose dense
volumes of smoke--bright flashes were seen, and the roar of the guns,
and the shouts and shrieks of the combatants were heard. Thickly flew
the round-shot--the gallant Admiral in the _Sandwich_ was engaged with
two big Frenchmen, who seemed to have singled her out for destruction,
but right nobly and boldly did she bear the brunt of the action. Shot
after shot struck her, many between wind and water, and some in her
masts and spars, which in consequence threatened to go overboard. The
_Terrible_, too, was hotly engaged with an opponent worthy of her. What
her name was could not be discovered.
"Never mind!" was the cry; "we'll soon learn when we make her haul down
her flag!"
Hotter and hotter grew the action. Many were falling on both sides.
Nearly all the English ships had lost both officers and men, killed and
wounded; while, especially, they were dreadfully cut up in their
rigging. Freeborn had come below to serve a gun.
"I see, mate, how it is!" cried Pringle to him. "Those Frenchmen are
fighting to run away. It's strange not one of our fellows on deck have
been hit yet. They've aimed all their shot at our spars."
"Hurrah! lads, then," answered Will in a high state of excitement, which
Pringle could not help remarking. "Fire away, lads. We'll stop them if
we can from running away, at all events."
As he spoke he applied his match to his gun. At the moment it sent
forth its missile of death he tottered back, and before Paul Pringle
could catch him had fallen on the deck. Paul stooped down and raised up
his head.
"It's all over with me, Paul," he said in a low voice; "feel here."
There was a dreadful wound in his side, which made it appear too
probable that his prognostication would prove true. The rest of the men
near turned round with glances of sorrow, for he was a general
favourite; but they had to attend to the working of their guns.
"Paul," he continued, "you and the ship's company will, I know, look
after my motherless child. I leave Billy to the care of you all. Bring
him up as a sailor--a true British tar, mind. There isn't a nobler life
a man can lead. I would not have him anything else. The Captain's very
kind, and will, I know, do his best for him. But I don't want him to be
an officer--that's very well for them that's born to it; but all I'd
have liked to have seen him, if I had lived, is an open-hearted,
open-handed, honest seaman." Poor Will was speaking with great
difficulty. His words came forth low and slowly.
"Yes, yes, Will," answered Paul, pressing his friend's hand. "We'll
look after him. There's not a man of the _Terrible_ who would not look
at little True Blue as his own son; and as to making him a seaman, we
none on us would dream of anything else. It would be utterly impossible
and unnatural like. Set your mind at rest, mate, about that. But I
say, Will, wouldn't it do your heart good to have a look at the
younker?"
"Not up here; a shot might hit him, remember," answered the poor father.
"And if they was to move me, I don't think that I should ever be got
below alive. No, no, Paul; I'll stay here. It's the best place for a
sailor to die."
Just then there was a cry that the enemy's ships were retreating. First
the Count de Guichen's own ship, the huge _Couronne_, was seen standing
out of the action, followed by the _Triomphant_ and _Fendant_, leaving
the _Sandwich_ in so battered a condition that she could not follow.
The other ships imitated their leader's example. One after another, the
British ships found themselves without opponents. They endeavoured to
make sail and follow; but their running rigging was so cut up that few
could set their sails, while the masts of many went over their sides.
All they could do, therefore, was to send their shot rapidly after the
flying enemy, and give vent to their feelings in loud hurrahs and shouts
of contempt. The Frenchmen little thought how well this same running
away was teaching the English to beat them, as they did in many a
subsequent combat, until, learning to respect each other's bravery, they
became firm friends and allies, and such, it is to be hoped, they may
remain till the end of time.
The sound of the shouts seemed to revive poor Will Freeborn.
"Now, mate, you'll see Billy, won't you?" said Paul. "It'll do your
heart good."
Will smiled his assent. He was feeling no pain then. A boy was sent to
summon Sam and the baby. Meantime the doctor came on deck.
"Let him lie here," said he after a short examination; "his moments are
numbered."
Sam soon appeared. Paul took Billy from him, and, kneeling down, held
the baby to the lips of the dying father. The men, no longer required
to work the guns, clustered round the group. Will kissed his child and
held him for a moment in his grasp.
"Shipmates," said he, raising his voice, "you'll all of you be kind to
little True Blue--I know you will; there's no use asking you. And God
will look after him--I know He will, and forgive me my sins. Here,
Paul, take the child--I'm slipping my cable, shipmates!"
He turned his eyes on the infant, and, pointing towards him, fell back
into the arms of Abel Bush and Peter Ogle, who had come to have a last
look at their old friend.
He was dead, and little True Blue was left an orphan.