The year 1793 had commenced, the French had cut off the head of their
King, set up the red cap of freedom, proclaimed the age of reason,
pronounced liberty, equality, and fraternity to be the rule of the
world, and to illustrate their meaning were preparing the guillotines
and the cannon to destroy the noblest, the fairest, and best in their
own land, and to attack any people who might differ from them in
opinion.
War had already broken out with Great Britain. The people of Old
England were girding their loins for that gigantic struggle, when nearly
all the powers of Europe were leagued with those enemies who strove to
overwhelm her. Right noble was the struggle, and right brave and
gallant were the soldiers and sailors who then fought for the safety and
honour of their well-loved country. Busy preparations were going
forward. All classes were exerting themselves, from the highest to the
lowest. Ministers were planning and ordering, soldiers were drilling,
ships were fitting out in every harbour.
Grass did not grow in the streets of Portsmouth in those days. A large
party of seamen were proceeding down the High Street of that far-famed
naval port one bright day in summer. There came first undoubted
men-of-war's men, by their fearless bearing and independent air
betokening a full consciousness of their value; a young and thorough
sailor boy, stout, broad-shouldered, with a fair though somewhat
sunburnt complexion, a row of teeth capable of grinding the hardest of
biscuit, and a fine large joyous eye and pleasant mouth, exhibiting
abundance of good humour and good nature, yet at the same time firmness
and decision.
The seamen stopped not far from the Southsea Gate, opposite a large
placard, on which it was announced that the thirty-six-gun frigate
_Ruby_ was fitting for sea with all possible despatch, and that she had
lately been commissioned by a young enterprising commander, Captain
Garland, and was in want of first-rate able seamen, as well as other
hands, to whom no end of fighting, prize-money, liberty, and fun of
every description was promised. The offers and promises thus liberally
made were very similar to those put forth in the same way when other
ships were fitting out; and seamen had already learned to look more to
the character of the ship and captain than to any other inducements held
out to them.
"That will just suit us, Paul," said one of the men after they had
carefully spelt over the paper, not without some trouble.
"I'm thinking it will, Abel. But I say, mate, I wonder if Captain
Garland is the youngster we had aboard the old _Terrible_?" answered
Paul Pringle, for he was the person addressed. "He was a fine little
chap then. Can he have grown into a Post-Captain already?"
"Why, just look at our Billy True Blue here," observed Peter Ogle,
putting his hand on the shoulder of the lad who has just been described.
"See, a few years has made a great change in him from the weak little
baby he was when he was shipmate with the youngster."
The boy smiled as he looked at his own strong fists and arms, and then
glanced at the countenances of his friends.
"To be sure--to be sure," said Paul Pringle. "He was a fine
true-hearted boy, and there's no doubt he'll prove a brave, dashing, and
a good captain. Let's hear what Tom Snell, Marline, and the rest say to
the matter."
They waited till the other seamen came up. With the latter was a
one-legged black man, with a fiddle-case under his arm. He was no other
than Sam Smatch, who had, ever since the last war, followed the fortunes
of Paul Pringle and his old shipmates. The whole party were now grouped
together before the placard, with Billy True Blue in the centre. They
were not left long to consult together without interruption, for the
placard served the purpose for which a bait is hung up in a wood, or
placed at the bottom of a pit, while the hunter stands by to watch for
the appearance of the animals it may attract. In this case, the first
lieutenant of the _Ruby_ was acting the part of the hunter. He had
taken a survey of the men from a shop window, and speedily made his
appearance on the spot. They knew him by the single simple epaulette on
his shoulder. He addressed them at once in a free, hearty tone.
"Well, my lads, you see what's wanted," said he. "If you wish to serve
under one of the smartest, bravest officers in the Navy, you will join
the _Ruby_. We want some prime hands like most of you. Come, which of
you will join? Say the word and stick to it."
"Why, sir, d'ye see, we all goes together, or we doesn't go at all,"
said Paul Pringle, stepping forward. "We've been shipmates off and on
for many years, and we wish to be so till we lays up in ordinary again."
"I may, perhaps, be able to arrange that matter," answered the
lieutenant, not liking to show all the satisfaction he felt, or to yield
too soon to the demands the men might make. "But that boy, now?
Perhaps we may have boys enough on board already. I suppose you don't
wish to take him to sea?"
"Not him, sir! If he doesn't go, none on us goes," answered Paul
briskly.
"None on us," echoed all the other godfathers.
"He is your son, I conclude, my man?" said the lieutenant, addressing
Paul.
"No, sir, not mine more than Abel Bush's or Peter Ogle's, or any of them
astern there," answered Paul. "No, sir, he belongs to us all, d'ye see,
sir? He's the son of an old shipmate, sir, killed out in the West
Ingies, fighting with Lord Rodney; and his mother was an old shipmate
too; and so the boy was left to the ship's company, and they chose us to
look after him--and we have looked after him, and we intend to look
after him; and we loves him just as if he was a son, and more nor some
fathers do their sons, and that's the truth on't, sir; and so we all
intends to ship with him, that we may have him among us, that's it,
sir."
"That's it, sir," echoed the rest, to show that they were all of one
mind.
"Well, if you all like to join provisionally, I will see what the
Captain will consent to do," answered the lieutenant.
Now as none of the party had the slightest idea of what joining
provisionally meant, they were very much inclined to declare off
altogether, when just then a young active man, with an extremely
pleasant expression of countenance, in the full-dress uniform of a
Post-Captain, was seen coming up the High Street. He stopped when he
got up to the group of seamen.
"Ah, Mr Brine, are any of these men going to join us?" he asked,
glancing his keen eyes over them. His countenance brightened when he
saw Paul Pringle.
"Why, I believe that I see an old shipmate whom I have not met for many
a year; and not one only--two or three more of you I remember clearly.
Am I not right?" said he. "We served together in the old _Terrible_,
and afterwards in the _Fame_."
"I thought so, sir!" exclaimed Paul with a cheerful voice. "I remember
you now, sir, that I do, though I shouldn't if you hadn't told me where
we'd been together. Maybe, sir, you remember a little baby you used to
be kind to, born aboard the ship. There he is, sir."
"What, Billy True Blue! Of course I do," answered the Captain in a
pleasant tone. "Come here, my lad; and you still follow the sea, do
you? You began pretty early."
"There's no other calling to my mind a man would wish to follow, sir,"
answered True Blue.
"All right, my men," said Captain Garland; "if you haven't got a ship, I
shall be very glad if you will join the _Ruby_. I do not believe that
there are many frigates in the service will beat her in any way, and I
promise you it will not be my fault if she isn't a happy ship."
"Just one word, sir, with the rest and we'll tell you," said Paul.
"As many as you like," said the Captain; and he and his lieutenant
stepped aside.
Scarcely a minute had passed before Paul Pringle came up to him.
"We'll all join you, sir, Billy and all," said he; "and I suppose, sir,
you'll not object to take Sam Smatch in? He always goes with us; and
though he's not wanted to nurse Billy now, there isn't a better hand
with his fiddle to be found anywhere. He might get a good living on
shore--that he might, sir; but he'd rather stick by us, as he's always
done, in spite of all the ups and downs of a life at sea, sir."
"Sam Smatch? Of course we'll have him!" said the Captain, not trying to
conceal how highly pleased he was at getting so fine a haul of good men
at one time for his ship. "And now I wish you to accompany Mr Brine on
board at once and enter. When it's known that we have a fair number of
good men, others will join; and the faster we man the ship, the sooner
we shall get to sea and be at the enemy."
A little more conversation passed. Paul and his companions went on
board and entered; and Mr Brine, soon convinced that they might be
trusted on shore, allowed them to go. They employed their time so well
in singing the praises of their new Captain, that in a week or two the
_Ruby_ was fully manned. In those days the crew themselves were chiefly
employed in fitting the ship for sea, and as they all worked with a
will, in a very short time longer she had all her stores and provisions
on board, and was ready to go out to Spithead. The remainder of the
officers had joined; Blue Peter was hoisted, and, with a fair breeze,
she stood out of Portsmouth Harbour. In two days more her powder was on
board, and under all sail she was running out at the Needle Passage.
The frigate was on the home station; but there was plenty of work for
her. The enemy's cruisers were very active; and they had some fine fast
frigates, which committed a great deal of mischief among the merchant
shipping, and carried off numbers of prizes.
Captain Garland determined to capture one or more of these, if he could,
without delay. His ship soon showed her fast-sailing qualities by
making prizes of a number of small fry, in the shape of French coasters,
"_chasse-marees_," and two or three larger merchantmen, which were sent
into either Plymouth or Portsmouth to be disposed of. This sort of
work, however, did not satisfy the wishes of either the Captain or his
officers or crew. Among those most eager for the fight was Billy True
Blue Freeborn. That was the way in which his name had been entered in
the ship's books. He recollected clearly what a battle was, though he
had not been engaged in one since that fierce engagement when he lost
his friend and chief, Captain Penrose.
Since then, he had been for the greater part of the time at sea, partly
on board a man-of-war, but mostly in merchantmen and coasters, where
Paul Pringle took him, that, as he said, he might not be afraid of rocks
and shoals, or the look of a lee-shore in a gale of wind. Out of all
that time he had only remained three years on shore, as his kind
guardian remarked, "to get his edication, and to larn manners."
Paul Pringle used to boast among his friends that Billy True Blue was
already a perfect seaman, and that he would sooner trust him at the helm
on a squally night, or on the lookout forward on a dark one, than he
would most men twice his age; but he took care never to say this in True
Blue's own hearing, lest, as he observed, "the lad should larn to think
too much of hisself."
True Blue had not been long on board the _Ruby_ before he became a
favourite with most of his new shipmates. Had he not had watchful
guardians about him, he would soon have been spoilt by them. To see him
dance the hornpipe, while Sam Smatch played his old fiddle, was, as his
admirers declared, "indeed a pleasure not to be met with any day in the
week," except on board the _Ruby_. How he could shuffle and spring, and
whirl, and whisk, and snap his fingers! He looked as if he was made of
India-rubber, filled with quicksilver. And then he had a very good
voice and a fair notion of singing, and right merrily he could troll
forth some of those stirring sea-songs which have animated the gallant
tars of Old England to perform deeds of the greatest heroism, and have
served to beguile and soothe many an hour of their existence on the
ocean, far away from home and all its softening influences.
There were several other boys on board the frigate, among whom,
naturally, True Blue took the lead. He was good-natured to all of them.
If they quarrelled with him, as some would, and would insist on having
it out with him in a fight with fists, he generally managed to make them
very cautious about trying the same experiment again.
There was one big fellow, Gregory Gipples by name, who set himself up as
a sort of leader among the other boys as soon as he came on board,
though he had never before been at sea. He was a big hulking fellow;
and as he had a certain amount of cleverness about him, he tried to make
it appear that he knew a great deal more about things than he really
did. True Blue instinctively discovered that he was a braggart and
inclined to be a bully.
Another boy was of a totally different character. At first sight, so
delicate did he look that it seemed surprising that little Harry
Hartland had been allowed to come to sea at all. But boys were wanted,
and the officers who had to pass them were not very particular; besides,
on further examination, Harry was stronger than he looked, and the
bright expression of his countenance showed that he would probably make
up by intelligence what he lacked in physical power. He had also been
carefully and religiously educated, and his habits were very refined
compared with those of most of the other boys. They soon learned to
call him "Gentleman Harry," though he did not seem pleased with the
appellation. He was very silent as to his own early history. He said
that his mother was a widow, and that he did not remember his father.
He knew that she would not have the means of supporting him, so he
wished to come to sea, and with the help of a friend of his own he had,
after much exertion, accomplished his object.
"You couldn't have done better--that you couldn't, Harry!" exclaimed
True Blue, to whom he had confided thus much of his early history. "I
wouldn't have to go and live in smoky cities, or to ride along dirty
roads, or to have to look only at sheep, or cows, or horses, not to be
the greatest lord in the land. I have never been much on shore, and
maybe haven't seen the most beautiful parts of it; but I was heartily
glad to get afloat again. There you are on shore stuck in the same
place day after day. What does it matter whether it's a calm or a gale,
it doesn't make you go faster or slower. And if you want to go away,
then you have to get on the outside of a coach, and be covered from
truck to kelson with dust, and a precious good chance of a capsize and
getting your neck broke. Now, when I was living ashore with Paul
Pringle's mother and people, there sprung up one night a gale of wind
which blew down the church steeple, I don't know how many big tall
trees, and sent a large part of the thatched roof off the cottage,
besides scattering the tiles of the houses right and left, and toppling
down numbers of chimney-pots. There were half a dozen people killed, I
heard, that night, and ever so many hurt."
Harry smiled.
"It is lucky that you think so, and I am quite ready to agree that a
sailor's life is one of the best to choose, seeing that we shall have to
spend the best part of ours afloat," he answered. "But what I hold is,
that we shouldn't think meanly of those who have to live always on
shore."
"I don't know as to that, Harry," said Billy quickly. "We shouldn't
think ill of them, I'll allow; but who can help pitying them? That's
all I say."
The conversation of the two boys was interrupted by an order which True
Blue received to go aloft and take a lookout round the horizon. This
was a post of honour to which he had been especially appointed, on
account of the sharpness of his vision, and the accuracy with which he
noted and could describe the various sail which might be in sight. Paul
Pringle watched him with pride. Up--up--up he went. The topmast
shrouds were reached--topgallant masthead; the royal mast was swarmed
up, and then he stood on the main truck, holding on by the staff of the
vane, no longer the little child, the pet of the ship's company, but a
thorough, fearless young seaman--not the less, however, the darling of
the crew.