Sir George Rodney remained, from ill health, for some time in England,
and the British squadrons on the West India and American stations were
engaged chiefly during that time in guarding the Island of Jamaica from
the contemplated attacks of the French. Captain Penrose soon taught his
new ship's company to love and trust him as much as the old one had
done. The _Fame_ was constantly and actively engaged, and he took good
care, as usual, that the weeds should not grow under her bottom.
Billy True Blue was all this time rapidly growing in size and strength,
and in knowledge of affairs in general.
Time passed on. Sir George Rodney returned from England and took
command of the West India fleet. The French still intended to take
Jamaica, but had not, and he resolved, if some thousand brave British
sailors in stout ships could prevent them, that they should not. With
this object in view, he assembled all his ships at the Island of Saint
Lucia, where, having provisioned and watered them, he lay ready to
attack the Count de Grasse as soon as he, with his fleet, should venture
forth from Fort Royal Bay, where they had been refitting.
Paul Pringle and his shipmates were as eager as ever for the battle.
"I do wish little True Blue was big enough to join in the fight--that I
do, even if it were only as a powder-monkey. He'd take to it so
kindly--that he would, I know," said Peter Ogle to Paul.
"I've no doubt about that, Peter," answered his shipmate. "But we'll
wait a bit. He'll be big enough by and by, and we mustn't let him run
any risk yet. We'll send him down below, as we used to do in the old
_Terrible_, with Sam Smatch. Sam will have more difficulty in keeping
him quiet than he had then."
"But I wonder when we shall get at these Frenchmen?" said Abel Bush.
"They seem to me just as slippery as eels. When you think you've got
them, there they are gliding past your nose, and safe and sound at
anchor under their batteries, or in some snug harbour where you can't
get at them. Well, Paul, night and morning, I do thank heaven that I
wasn't born a Frenchman--that I do."
"Right, Abel; so do I," said Paul. "Ah, here comes little True Blue.
Now, I'll warrant, about the whole French fleet they haven't got such a
youngster as he is--no, nor nothing like him."
"Like him! I should think not!" cried Peter Ogle in a tone of voice
which showed that the very supposition made him indignant. "No more
like him than a frog is like an albatross. No, no; search the world
round, I don't care in what country, ashore or afloat, black, or brown,
or white, you won't find such another little chap for his age as Billy
True Blue."
The child, as he walked along the deck with a slight roll, which he had
learned as soon as he put his feet to the planks, seemed well deserving
of the eulogium passed on him. He was a noble child, with a broad chest
and shoulders, a fair complexion, though somewhat bronzed already, and a
large, laughing blue eye, with a good honest, wide mouth, and teeth
which showed that he could give a good account of the beef and biscuit
which he put into it.
"Sam says I no big enough to fight de French," said Billy, pouting his
lips, as he came up to his old friends, followed closely by the black.
"I put match to gun--fire--bang. Why no I fight?"
"Huzza, Billy!" cried Peter Ogle. "That's the spirit. You'd stand to
your gun as well as the best of us, I know you would. But we can't let
you just yet, boy. Make haste and grow big, and then if there are any
Frenchmen left to fight, with any ships to fight in, you shall fight
them, boy."
This promise did not seem at all to satisfy Billy. He evidently
understood that the ship was likely to go into action; and though it was
a long time since he had been sent into the hold with Sam, he had a dim
recollection of the horrors of the place, and fancied that he would much
rather be with his friends on deck. Of course Sam was ordered to take
charge of the little boy, as before.
The British had not long to wait for the expected meeting with the
enemy. At daylight on the 8th of April 1782, the _Andromache_ frigate,
commanded by Captain Byron, appeared off Gros Islet Bay, with the signal
flying that the enemy's fleet, with a large convoy, was coming out of
Fort Royal Bay and standing to the north-west. Instantly Sir George
Rodney made the signal to weigh, and by noon the whole fleet was clear
of the bay. The Admiral stretched over to Fort Royal, but finding none
of the French ships there, or at Saint Pierre's, he made the signal for
a general chase. Night came on, but still a sharp lookout was kept
ahead.
Paul Pringle and Abel Bush walked the forecastle, where the second
lieutenant of the ship was stationed with his night-glass. The _Fame_
was one of the leading ships. It was the middle watch. Paul put his
hand on Abel's shoulder. "Look out now there, mate; what do you see
now?"
"Ten, fifteen, twenty lights at least. Huzza! That's the enemy's
fleet. We shall be up to them in the morning."
The lieutenant was of the same opinion, and went to make his report to
the Captain. The men now clustered thickly on the forecastle to watch
the Jack o' Lantern-looking lights, which they hoped proceeded from the
ships with which they expected in the morning to contend. As the mists
of night cleared away on the morning of the 9th, the French were
discovered in the passage between Dominique and Guadaloupe. A signal
was seen flying, too, at the masthead of Sir George Rodney's ship, to
prepare for battle and to form the line. The French convoy was made out
under Dominique, but the ships of war appeared forming their line to
windward and standing over to Guadaloupe.
Unfortunately, however, the British fleet got becalmed for some time
under the high lands of Dominique, and unable to get into their
stations. The instant, however, that the welcome breeze at length
reached the van division under Sir Samuel Hood, he stood in in gallant
style and closed with the enemy's centre. By noon the action had
commenced in earnest, and was maintained by this division alone for
upwards of an hour without any support from the rest of the squadron,
the gallant _Barfleur_ being for most of the time hotly engaged with
three ships firing their broadsides at her. At length the leading ships
of the centre got the breeze, and were able to come to the support of
the van. Many of the French ships even fought well and gallantly, but,
in spite of their superiority in numbers, were very roughly handled. In
consequence of this, when the Count de Grasse saw the rear of the
British fleet coming fast up, having the weather-gage, he hauled his
wind and withdrew out of shot. Two of the French ships were, however,
so much cut up in hull and rigging that they were compelled to leave the
fleet and put into Guadaloupe.
Nothing could exceed the disappointment and rage of the British seamen
at this proceeding. They had made sure of victory, and now to have the
enemy run away and leave them in the lurch was provoking beyond all
bearing.
Several British ships had suffered--the _Royal_ and the _Montague_, and
the _Alfred_ especially, Captain Bayne, who commanded her, being killed.
Still the crews entreated that they might not be sent into port, and,
with the true spirit of British seamen, undertook to repair damages at
sea, in which request they were seconded by their officers. For two
days they were at work without cessation, making sail, however, whenever
they could, and beating to windward in the direction the French fleet
had gone.
The enemy were carrying all the sail they could press on their ships;
and by the evening of the 10th they had weathered the Saintes, a group
of rocks and islets between Dominique and Guadaloupe, and were nearly
hull down.
Towards noon of next day the officers were seen to have their glasses
more frequently and intently fixed on them; and by degrees, while the
main body grew less and less distinct in the blue haze of the tropics,
two ships, with their topmasts down, were perceived standing out in bold
relief, and therefore known to be considerably to leeward of the rest,
and much nearer the British. The breeze since the morning had been
increasing to a fresh and steady gale.
With unbounded satisfaction the seamen saw the signal thrown out from
the flagship for a general chase. The gallant _Agamemnon_, now
beginning to earn her well-merited renown, with the noble _Fame_, and
other ships forming Admiral Drake's division, were ahead of the rest of
the fleet. Crowding all sail with eager haste, they dashed on to secure
their hoped-for prey. They saw the disabled Frenchmen making signals,
calling their countrymen to their relief.
It was a period of intense anxiety; for the doubt was whether the Count
de Grasse would abandon his ships to their fate or bear down to their
relief, and thus lessen the distance between the enemy and himself.
Eagerly they were watched. There remained no doubt that the English
would cut off the two disabled Frenchmen, when gradually the bows of the
distant ships of the enemy were seen to come round, and the Count de
Grasse, adopting the nobler course, came bearing down under a press of
sail to attempt the rescue of his friends.
"Now, gentlemen, we shall have them!" exclaimed Captain Penrose in a
cheerful voice as he walked the quarterdeck with some of his officers.
"Before this time to-morrow we shall have fought an action which will, I
trust, be for ever celebrated in the annals of English history."
Down came the Frenchmen in gallant style, faster than they expected; and
the more experienced saw, from the scattered positions of the British
ships, that the result of an action at that moment would have been very
doubtful. Intense, however, was the disappointment of the greater
number, when, towards evening, the leading ships of the two fleets being
not a mile apart, they saw the signal of recall made.
Captain Penrose smiled at the impatience of his officers and men.
"I know Rodney pretty well by this time," he remarked. "He is as eager
for the fight as any of us, but he is no less anxious for the victory,
and knows that will best be obtained by forming a compact line. See!
what do those signals he is now making mean?"
"To form the line of battle," answered the signal-officer.
"All right, master. Place us as soon as possible in our proper
position," said the Captain. "What's that signal now?"
"Ships to work to windward under all sail," was the answer.
It soon became too dark to make out any further signals, so the fleet
continued, as last directed, to beat up in the direction of the enemy
all night. When dawn broke on the 12th, a French ship of the line was
discovered in a disabled condition, towed by a frigate, a considerable
distance to leeward of the main body of the French fleet.
Directly a signal could be seen, Admiral Rodney made one for the four
leading ships of the fleet to chase, in order to capture the two
Frenchmen. It was the same drama enacted as on the previous day. It
would have been a stain on the white lilies of France had the Count de
Grasse allowed his two ships to be captured; and therefore, once more,
to the great delight of the British, he bore up with his whole fleet for
their protection.
There seemed no longer a possibility of a general action being avoided.
The signal was made, ordering the British ships to their stations, and a
close line ahead was formed on the starboard tack, the enemy being on
the larboard. Rear-Admiral Drake, in the _Princessa_, 70 guns,
commanded the Blue Division; the van, which was led by the noble
_Marlborough_, followed closely by the _Arrogant_, _Conqueror_, _Fame_,
_Russell_, _Norwich_, and other ships, which, with their brave Captains,
were destined to become famous in story.
At half-past seven in the morning, Rear-Admiral Drake's division, which
led, got within range of the long-sought-for enemy, and soon from van to
rear the British ships were sending forth their terrific broadsides.
The French replied boldly; and now the two hostile fleets were wrapped
in flames and smoke, while round-shot and missiles of all descriptions
were passing between one and the other. Both appeared to be suffering
alike, and many a brave seaman was laid low. The _Fame_ had got early
into action, and gallantly taken up her position opposite an opponent
worthy of her. Her brave old Captain walked the quarterdeck, calm as
usual, watching with eagle eye the progress of the engagement, and
waiting for any opportunity to alter to advantage the position of his
ship.
It was just such a fight as Paul Pringle and the crew generally had long
wished for; and fierce and bloody enough it was, too. Of course little
Billy was down below, as secure from harm as his friends could make him.
Few of those present had ever been in a hotter or better contested
fight. The officers, at all events, knew how much depended on the
result--the safety, probably, of all the British possessions in the West
Indies. All the seamen thought of was, how they best could thrash the
Frenchmen; and they knew that all they had to do was to stick to their
guns and blaze away till they were ordered to stop. Towards noon the
wind shifted, and enabled the British fleet to fetch to windward of the
enemy.
"See what that gallant fellow Gardner is about with the _Duke_,"
observed Captain Penrose to the master, who was near him.
Putting the _Duke's_ helm up, he was standing down under all sail in a
bold attempt to break the enemy's line. There was a groan of
disappointment given by all who saw him when his maintopmast fell over
his side, and, unable to keep his position, he dropped to leeward.
Sir George Rodney in the _Formidable_, however, supported by the _Namur_
and _Canada_, was more successful. Keeping up a terrific fire, he
dashed through the French line about three ships off from the _Ville de
Paris_, followed by all those in his rear; then, immediately wearing, he
doubled on the enemy again, pouring in on them his crashing broadsides.
By this bold manoeuvre the French line was broken and thrown into the
utmost confusion: their van bore away and endeavoured to reform to
leeward; but, too hotly pressed by the British ships, there seemed
little probability of their accomplishing this.
Still the Frenchmen, though evidently losing the day, fought with the
most desperate courage and resolution. For a short time, while still
the battle was raging between many ships, the crew of the _Fame_ ceased
firing; for one opponent had sheered off whom they were unable to
follow, and another was approaching. Whether the cessation of the roar
of the guns made Sam Smatch careless, is uncertain; but just as a
ninety-gun ship was bearing down on the gallant _Fame_, who should
appear on the quarterdeck but little Billy True Blue! At that moment
the Frenchmen let fly a crashing broadside, speedily returned by the
crew of the _Fame_. Round-shot and bullets were flying about like hail,
blocks and yards and splinters were rattling down from aloft, and blood
and brains and mangled limbs were being scattered here and there.
Unharmed and undaunted, the little fellow stood amid the wild uproar and
the havoc and destruction and the scenes of horror taking place on every
side.
The Captain at length turned round and saw the child standing near him.
"Oh, go below, boy! go below! You may be hurt, my child!" he exclaimed
in a voice of the deepest concern. He turned to young Garland, who was
near him, repeating, "Take him below instantly out of harm's way."
Billy had never disobeyed the Captain's commands before; but he
struggled violently in the midshipman's arms and cried out, "No, no!
Billy stay on deck and fight French!"
The fine old Captain was raising his hand as a sign that he must be
obeyed, when he was seen to stagger. Nat Garland let go the child and
ran to catch him; but before he could get up, he had sunk on the deck,
just raising himself on one arm; but that slowly gave way, and he lay
still on the deck.
Billy True Blue flew up to him with a cry of grief.
"Oh, Captain, Captain, what is the matter?" he exclaimed. Young Garland
and those who stood near with deep grief thought that their gallant
chief was dead.
"Captain, Captain, do speak--tell Billy what is the matter?" said the
child.
At length the old man opened his eyes and smiled as he saw that innocent
infantine face looking down upon him.
"Alfred--Edgar," he whispered slowly. "Yes, dears, I know you; but I am
going--going to another world of peace and quiet, where we shall all
meet. I have had a rough life away from you; but duty, dears, duty kept
me from home--always follow duty wherever it leads."
Billy could not make out what the Captain was talking about, and others
thought that he was speaking to him. In a little time he came more to
himself, and they were about to take him below, but he insisted on being
left on deck.
"I am shot through and through," he said. "I will breathe the open air
and see how the fight goes as long as I live. But take that little boy
below out of danger."
Soon after he had spoken, he again became partly delirious, and Billy
shrieked and struggled so violently that the midshipman, who had a
fellow-feeling for him, again set him down, and he ran back to his dying
friend.
Captain Penrose now cried out for something to drink; but when it was
brought, he would take it from no hands but those of Billy. Unconscious
or regardless of the danger which surrounded him, the child sat himself
down composedly on the deck, and continued to moisten the lips of the
old man. Now a loud, true British hurrah ran along the decks of the
_Fame_. Another English ship was coming up, and the crew of their
opponent, unwilling to encounter the fire of a fresh antagonist, were
hauling down her colours. The Captain raised himself up on one arm, and
his eye fell on the white flag of France coming down from the masthead
of the enemy.
"Hurrah! hurrah! hurrah!" he feebly exclaimed.
"Hurrah! hurrah! hurrah!" shouted Billy in a shrill tone, waving his
little hat. Then the fine old seaman fell back, and when they got up to
him he had ceased to breathe.
Hitherto Sir Samuel Hood's division had been becalmed, but now getting
the breeze, it came up in gallant style to take part in the action.
Still many of the French crews fought on with the most heroic bravery.
The _Glorieux_ especially, commanded by the Vicomte D'Escar, made a most
noble defence. Her masts and bowsprits were shot away by the board, but
her colours were not struck till all her consorts were taken or put to
flight. Her brave commander fell in the action. Monsieur de Marigny in
the _Caesar_ displayed equal bravery. Having sustained the fire of
several ships, he was, when almost a wreck, closely and vigorously
attacked by the _Centaur_. His colours, it appeared, were nailed to the
mast; and though his men were falling thickly around him, and he himself
mortally wounded, he would not yield.
At length, several other British ships coming up, one of the French
officers cried out that the ship had surrendered, and at that moment her
brave Captain was said to have breathed his last. No sooner did the
_Caesar_ surrender than her masts fell over the side. The _Ardent_,
which was in the midst of the British fleet, struck to the _Belliqueux_,
an English ship with a French name, and the _Hector_, 74, to the
_Canada_, 74, commanded by Captain Cornwallis. He, however, left his
prize to be taken possession of by the _Alcide_, and made sail after the
French Admiral in the _Ville de Paris_, who, with his seconds, was
endeavouring to rejoin his scattered and flying ships.
Boldly the brave Cornwallis approached the huge _Ville de_ _Paris_, and
right gallantly opened his fire; and so ably did he hang on her, and cut
up her sails and rigging, some other ships coming up to his support,
that it was impossible for her to escape. Still the Comte de Grasse,
although his fine ship was almost cut to pieces and multitudes of her
crew killed, seemed determined rather to sink than to yield to any ship
under that of an Admiral's flag. At length Sir Samuel Hood came up in
the _Barfleur_, and poured in a tremendous broadside. Even then the
gallant Frenchman held out, firing away from both sides of his ship on
his numerous opponents for a quarter of an hour longer; when at length,
seeing that all his own ships had deserted him, and that night was
coming on, just as the sun set he hauled down his flag.
The enemy's fleet continued going off before the wind in small detached
squadrons and single ships under all the sail they could crowd, closely
pursued by the British ships, which were consequently much dispersed.
Sir George Rodney, on seeing this, made the signal to bring to, in order
to collect his fleet and secure the prizes. The signal was seen from
many of the ships, and obeyed; but Commodore Affleck, in the _Bedford_,
with other ships which were ahead, not observing it, continued the
chase, keeping up a hot fire on the flying enemy.
"Well, mates!" exclaimed Paul Pringle, as that evening, with little
Billy on his knee, he sat at the mess-table between the guns which had
been so well served, and had served their country so well, "we've had a
great loss, for we have lost as brave a captain, and as true a man, as
ever stepped aboard of a man-of-war; yet, mates, he died as he would
have wished, in the hour of victory; and then, just think on't, we've
had as glorious a day as I'd ever wish to see. Maybe few of us will
ever live to see another such. But, mates, there's another thing we
have to be grateful for--that is, that our little Billy here has escaped
the Frenchmen's shot. What should we have done if he had been killed?
It would have broken my heart, I know."
"Grappled with the first Frenchman we could have met, and blown her and
ourselves up together--that's what I'd have been inclined to do!" cried
Tom Snell, who was generally an advocate for desperate measures. "But
how was it the little fellow got away from Sam? How was it, Billy?"
"I ran up, and leave Sam down dere," answered Billy.
"Has anybody seen Sam since then?" asked Abel Bush.
On comparing notes, it was discovered that no one had seen the black
since the commencement of the battle. It was agreed, therefore, that
instant search should be made for him. Paul having procured a lantern
from the master-at-arms, the messmates went below with Billy. They
reached the spot where the child said he had left him, but no Sam was
there. They shouted his name through the hold, but no reply was made.
They hunted about in every direction.
"He must have gone on deck and stowed himself away somewhere," observed
Paul Pringle.
Just then Abel Bush said he heard a groan. Going towards the spot,
there, coiled up, not far from one of the hatchways, was poor Sam.
After calling to him several times and shaking him, he lifted up his
head.
"Who dere? Oh dear, oh dear! What de matter?" he moaned out.
"How was it you let little Billy True Blue run away and nearly get
killed, Sam?" asked Paul.
"Billy killed! Oh dear, oh dear! Den kill me!" cried poor Sam,
trembling all over.
"But he isn't killed, and we don't want to kill you," answered Paul.
"Get up, though, or we shall fancy you're in a fright or drunk."
"But I can't get up--'deed I can't!" cried Sam. "Leg shot away. I no
walkee."
On hearing this, Paul and his companions lifted up the poor black, and
sure enough a leg, but it was his wooden one, was shattered to
fragments, and the stump to which it was secured considerably bruised.
It then came out that Sam had really attempted to follow little True
Blue when he ran on deck, but that, just as he was getting up the
hatchway on the lower-deck, a shot had come through a port, and,
striking his wooden leg, had tumbled him down again, when by some means
or other he had rolled down into the hold, and there, suffering from
pain and fear, he had ever since lain, unwilling and unable to rise,
dreading lest harm should happen to his little charge, and fearing not a
little, should such have been the case, the consequences to himself. He
was half starved, too, for he had had nothing to eat all day, and was
altogether in a very wretched plight. When, however, he was brought on
deck, with some food put into his inside and the assistance of the
carpenter, he was once more set on his legs. Many a day, however,
passed before the sound of his once merry fiddle was heard on the
forecastle of the _Fame_, for the crew loved their gallant commander too
well to allow them to foot it as had been their constant custom during
his lifetime.
Little rest had the crews of any of the ships that night after the
battle. Not far from the _Fame_ lay the _Caesar_, which had been so
gallantly defended, now a prize to the _Centaur_. One of the
lieutenants of the _Centaur_, with the boatswain and fifty of her men,
were on board the prize, fully four hundred Frenchmen not having yet
been removed.
Suddenly flames were seen to burst forth from the lower ports of the
_Caesar_. How the fire originated no one could tell. In vain must have
been the efforts of those on board to extinguish it. Boats put off from
all the ships near to rescue the unfortunate people on board; but before
they could reach her the fire had entered her magazine, and with a
dreadful explosion she blew up, hurling every one on board to
destruction. The English lieutenant and boatswain, with fifty men, and
the four hundred Frenchmen remaining on board, all perished.
For this most important and gallant victory Sir George Rodney was
created a peer of Great Britain, Sir Samuel Hood a peer of Ireland, and
Admiral Drake and Commodore Affleck baronets of the United Kingdom.