Poor Billy True Blue little knew the loss he had experienced, when, as
usual, he kicked and frisked about, and spluttered and cooed, as that
evening Paul Pringle, with a sad heart, was dipping him in a tub,
preparatory to putting him into his cot. Paul had soon to send for Sam
Smatch to take his place, as he had plenty of work on deck in repairing
damages. Besides being much cut up in hull and rigging, the fleet had
suffered greatly, and had had six officers and one hundred and fourteen
men killed, and nine officers and one hundred and forty-five men
wounded. The Admiral's ship, the _Sandwich_, had suffered the most
severely; and it was only by the united exertions of her own and other
ships' companies that she was kept afloat during the night and all the
next day, till she could be got back again into Gros Islet Bay. There
every possible exertion was made to repair damages, so as to be in a
state to go in search of the enemy.
It was not, however, till the 6th of May that Sir George Rodney received
intelligence that the French fleet had left the Island of Guadaloupe,
where they had been repairing their damages, and were approaching to
windward of Martinique.
Once more the English fleet was ordered by signal to put to sea; and
with no less zest than before the anchors were run up, and under a crowd
of sail they stood out of the bay. The wind, however, was contrary, and
for several days the ships had to continue beating against it through
the passage between Martinique and Saint Lucia till the 10th, when, as
the morning broke, the Frenchmen were seen mustering the same number as
before, about three leagues to windward.
"Hurrah! we'll have them now; they'll not demean themselves by running
away!" was the general shout on board the British ships.
Nearer the English approached. The French formed in line of battle and
bore down upon them. The hearts of the British tars beat high. They
thought the time they were looking for had assuredly come; but when
scarcely within so much as random shot, the Frenchmen were seen to haul
their wind, and being much faster sailers than the English, they quickly
got again beyond speaking distance. The English seamen stamped with
rage and disappointment, as well they might, and hurled no very
complimentary epithets on the enemy.
"The time will come when we get up to you, Monsieur, and then we'll give
it you, won't we?" they exclaimed, shaking their lists at the enemy.
Several times the French came down in the same style, as Paul Pringle
remarked, "like so many dancing-masters skipping along, and then
whisking round and scampering off again."
Words will not describe the utter contempt and hatred the British tars
felt in consequence of this for their enemies. Had the French mustered
twice their numbers, and could they have got fairly alongside of them,
yardarm to yardarm, they supposed that they could have thrashed them,
and probably would have done so.
At last Admiral Rodney himself, in the hope of deceiving the enemy, made
the signal for the fleet to bear away under all sail. The manoeuvre had
the desired effect, making the French fancy that the English had taken
to flight; and now growing bold, like yelping hounds, they came after
them in full cry. The English captains guessed what was expected of
them, and did their best to impede the progress of their ships, so as to
let the enemy gain as much as possible on them. On the Frenchmen boldly
came, till their van was nearly abreast of the centre of the English,
who had luffed up till they had almost brought the fleet again on a
bowline.
Now, to their great satisfaction, there was a shift of wind, which gave
them the weather-gage. That was all Admiral Rodney wanted, and once
more the hearts of the British seamen beat proudly with the anticipation
of battle and victory.
The signal was made to engage. The British ships bore down on the
enemy. It seemed no longer possible that he would decline to fight. On
board the _Terrible_ all stood ready at their guns, eyeing the foe. Sam
Smatch had been despatched with his little charge into the hold, and
ordered, unless he would incur the most dreadful pains and penalties,
not to return on deck.
Sam grinned on receiving the order. He had not the slightest intention
of infringing it. He was not a coward; but he was a philosopher. He
had had fighting enough in his day. He had lost a leg fighting, and
been otherwise sorely knocked about; and he had vowed, from that time
forward, never to fight if he could help it. He had no king nor
country, so to speak, to fight for; for though he had become a British
subject, he had not appreciated the privileges he had thereby gained;
and, at all events, they had failed to arouse any especial patriotic
feelings within his bosom. Nothing, therefore, could please him better
than his present occupation; and tucking his fiddle under one arm, and
making a seat for the baby with the other, he descended with the most
unfeigned satisfaction into the dusky depths of the bottom of the ship.
How intense was the indignation of the British seamen, when, just as
they were within long range of the French, they saw ship after ship
wear, and, under a crowd of sail, take to an ignominious flight! What
showers of abuse were hurled after them, as were numerous random shots,
though neither were much calculated to do them any harm. However, by
seven in the evening, Captain Bowyer, in the _Albion_, who led the van,
was seen to reach the centre of the enemy's line. In the most gallant
style he opened fire, supported by the _Conqueror_ and the other ships
of the van. In vain the ships of the British centre endeavoured to get
into action. Every manoeuvre that could be thought of was tried, every
sail was set. The brave old Captain Penrose walked his deck with hasty
strides and unusual excitement.
"Oh, how I envy that fellow Bowyer!" he exclaimed. "How rapidly his men
work their guns! We would be doing the same if we were there. However,
the time will come when I shall have another stand-up fight with them
before I die. It may be soon, or it may be some time hence; but the
time will come, that I feel assured of."
"I hope, sir, when it does arrive, you, and all with you, will come off
victorious," observed the second lieutenant, who was in no way inclined
to enter into what he called the Captain's fancies.
"No doubt about it," answered the Captain. "I trust that I may never
live to see the day when a British fleet is worsted by our old enemies,
the French, or by any others who have ships afloat."
In spite of the partial engagement taking place, the remainder of the
French fleet continued its flight under a press of sail. Right
gallantly the _Albion_ and _Conqueror_ continued the cannonade; but,
again, the quicker heels of the French enabled them to keep out of the
reach of the remainder of the British fleet, and finally carried them
free of their pursuers.
Still, although night had closed in, Admiral Rodney persevered in
following them up; but the wind had shifted, and given the French the
weather-gage, an advantage which they employed in keeping out of action.
Day after day passed, and then they were to be seen spreading over the
blue sea in the far distance, but not daring to come nearer. Either
they were waiting for reinforcements, or for some accident which might
give them such a vast superiority that they would no longer have any
fear of the result of a general engagement.
Great, therefore, was the delight of the British, when, on the morning
of the 19th, the wind shifted suddenly, and enabled them to bear down
under a press of sail on the enemy. The Count de Guichen could no
longer, it was hoped, avoid an action; but, ere the English could get
their guns to bear, the fickle wind again shifted and left the enemy the
choice of engaging or not. Although the van of the French was to
windward, their rear was still to leeward of the British van, now led by
the gallant Commodore Hotham. Immediately he bore down upon them and
opened his fire.
The _Terrible_ was in this division, and took a leading part in the
fray. Several ships on both sides were now hotly engaged. The French
Admiral, seeing this, seemed to have made up his mind to risk a general
action; and as soon as his van had weathered the British, which the
shift of wind enabled him to do, he bore away along their line to
windward and commenced a heavy cannonade, but at so cautious a distance
that his shot did little damage. The _Terrible's_ opponent soon sheered
off, and, having more speed than pluck, quickly got out of the range of
her guns, greatly to the disgust of all the crew.
"Look here, mates; is this what those frog-eating Johnny Crapauds call
fighting?" exclaimed Paul Pringle, pointing to de Guichen's distant
line, firing away at the main body of the British fleet. "Unless
fellows are inclined to lay alongside each other, yardarm to yardarm,
and have it out like brave men, to my mind they had better stay ashore
and leave fighting alone."
The sentiment was echoed heartily by all his hearers, and more
particularly so, when in a short time the whole French fleet was seen
fairly to take to flight, and, under a press of sail, to stand to the
northward. The British fleet continued all the next day in chase; but,
on the morning of the 21st, not a Frenchman was to be seen; and as many
of the ships had suffered severely in these partial actions, and were
much knocked about by long service, Admiral Rodney stood for Barbadoes,
where they might undergo the required repairs. They arrived on the 22nd
in Carlisle Bay.
It was not for some time that the crew of the _Terrible_ had a moment to
think of anything but the stern calls of duty. At last, however, the
old ship was once more ready for sea, and then one spoke to the other
about little Billy True Blue, and their promise to Will Freeborn; and it
was agreed that an assemblage of the whole ship's company should be
held, to decide the course to be pursued for his rearing and education.
The forecastle, or, as seamen call it, "the fo'c's'l," was the place
selected for the meeting. Tom Snell, the boatswain's mate, Sergeant
Bolton, Peter Ogle, Abel Bush, Paul Pringle, of course, the three
godfathers' mates, and most of the petty officers, spoke on this
important occasion. Sam Smatch would have been there, but he had to
look after the baby in the cabin; he had, however, explained his
opinion, and claimed the right of voting by proxy; which claim was fully
allowed, seeing that he was absent on the public service. The
warrant-officers were not present--not that they did not take a warm
interest in the matter, but they did not wish to interfere with the free
discussion in which the men might wish to indulge. Sergeant Bolton,
however, came, and it was understood that he knew their feelings in all
the important points likely to be broached. His rank might have kept
him away, but he was present, because, as he said, "I ham, de ye see,
the hinconsolable widower of Nancy Bolton, the hintfant's nurse, and how
do ye think hany one can have more hinterest in the hangel than I?"
Tom Snell was looked upon as a great orator; not the less so that he
often enforced his arguments with a rope's end.
"Mates," said he, rising, when all the men were assembled, perched about
in every available spot and in every possible attitude, and he brought
one clenched fist down on the other open palm, with a sound which echoed
along the decks, "this is how the case stands, d'ye see. There's a baby
born aboard this here ship, and that baby had a mother, a good real
shipshape woman, who was as kind a nurse to all on us as was sick as
could be. Well, I won't talk on her; she dies, and two other women acts
as nurses to the baby; they were good women too, but I won't talk on
them." Tom passed the hairy back of his rough hand across his eyes, and
continued: "Now the baby fell to the natural care like of his daddy, a
true-hearted honest sailor as ever stepped. He'd have done honestly by
him, and brought him up as a right real seaman, there's no doubt; but,
d'ye see, as ye know, mates all, a sneaking Frenchman's round-shot comes
aboard us and strikes him between wind and water, so to speak, and
pretty nigh cuts him in two. Before he slipped his cable, many on you
who stood near knows what he said to us. He told us that he gave the
baby to the ship's company--to look after--to be brought up as a seaman
should be brought up. One and all on us would do the same and much
more, as I know, for little True Blue, seeing as how he naturally-like
belongs to us--ay, mates, and we would be ready to fight for him to the
last; and if there was one thing would make us keep our colours flying
to the last, it would be to prevent him falling into the enemy's hands,
to be brought up as a capering, frog-eating Frenchman. But, mates, d'ye
see, this would be very well if we could all stick together aboard the
same ship, and for his sake I knows we'd try to do it; but, as you
knows, there are the chances of war--we may be separated--one may go to
one ship, one may go to another, and who is he to go with, I should like
to know? Now I don't want that any on us should lose the pleasure and
honour of looking after him, that I don't--I'd scorn to be so unjust to
any one; but we wants to settle when the evil time arrives when we, who
has served together so long, and fought together, and stuck together
like brothers and true seamen should, comes to be scattered, who the
little chap, Billy True Blue, is to go with--that's the point, mates,
d'ye see? He can't go with us all. He must be with some one on us, the
primest seaman, too, who'll teach him to knot and splice, to hand-reef
and steer, and all the ways of a seaman. That's what we has to do. We
can't teach him much yet, you'll all allow, and the Captain says as how
he'll give nine dozen to any man as puts a quid of baccy in the
younker's mouth; so we can't even learn him to chaw yet, which to my
mind he'd do better nor anything else, as he's most practice with his
jaws just yet; but the time will come when he can use his fists, too,
and the sooner he gets 'em into the tar-bucket the better, says I."
This opinion was loudly applauded by all present.
Tom made some further remarks to the same effect. "And now," he
concluded, "any one on you who has got anything for to say for or again'
what I've been a-saying, let him stand up on his legs and say it out
like a man."
Bill Tompion, one of the gunner's crew, thereon arose with a sudden
spring, and, having squirted a stream of tobacco juice through a port,
exclaimed:
"What Tom says is all very true. No one here nor there will want to
deny it; but what I axes is, who's to have charge of the younker?
That's what I see we wants to settle. When I fires my gun, I doesn't
blaze away at the air, but looks along it and sees what I'm going to
fire at, and takes my aim; and, d'ye see, if it's an enemy's ship not
far off, I generally hits, too. Now that's just as I was saying, mates,
what we have to do. We wants to fix on fit and proper persons to look
after our little chap aboard here,--the ship's own child, I may say,--to
see that he gets into no mischief, and to bring him up as a seaman
should be brought up. Now I'd like to be one on those to look after
him, and Tom would like to be one, and many on us would like to have the
work, and most of us, ay, and all of us," (there was a general cheer);
"but, mates, it isn't the men who'd like it most, but the men who is
most fit, d'ye see, we are bound to choose. Now I speak for myself.
I'm a thoughtless, careless sailor--I've run my head into more scrapes
than I'd like to own. I'm very well afloat, but ashore I wouldn't like
to have on my conscience to have charge of that young chap, d'ye see;
and as for Tom Snell, he'll speak for himself. Betty Snell kept him
straight, there's no doubt of it; but now she's gone, poor Tom's all
adrift again, and it's just a chance if he goes for to splice once more,
what sort of a wife he'll pick up. Therefore, says I, neither Tom nor
I'm the best man to look after Billy True Blue. But, mates," (here
Tompion stopped and struck his hands together), "I does say that I
thinks I knows who is a good man, a fit man, and a friend and messmate
of Will Freeborn, and that man is Paul Pringle. He's what the parsons
calls a godfather, and so I take it he's a sort of a guardian like
already, and he's had charge of the little chap ever since poor Betty
and Nancy lost the number of their mess; and if Paul will take charge,
and I'm sure he will, I says, `Let him be one of the guardians.'"
Paul rose. "Mates all," said he, giving a hitch to his waistband, "I
thanks ye. Don't you think as long as body and soul keep together I'd
look after little Billy True Blue, who was born aboard this ship, whose
father and mother was my friends, and who, I may say, is just like a son
to me? I know you all sees this; but, mates, I may any day slip my
cable, as you and all of us may do, but still one man's life is not so
good as three, and therefore, I says, let me have his father's friends
and messmates, Peter Ogle and Abel Bush, two good men and thorough
seamen, to help me; and I can say that I believe one and all of us will
do our duty by the boy--we'll not fail to do our best to make him an
honest man and a true sailor."
There were no dissentient voices to Paul's proposal. Never was a
meeting for any subject held with so much unanimity. The three
godfathers' mates were chosen as their assistant-guardians, and thus, as
far as numbers could ensure care, little True Blue had every chance of
being well looked after.