The _Gannet_ had now been some time on the station, and had performed a
number of deeds worthy of note, taken several prizes, and injured the
enemy in a variety of ways, when one morning, just at daybreak, as she
lay not far from Porto Rico, a schooner was seen creeping out from under
the land towards her.
Captain Brine had done his best to make his ship look as much as
possible like a merchantman. She was now slowly yawed about as if badly
steered, with sails ill trimmed, and her sides brown and dirty and long
unacquainted with fresh paint, a screen of canvas concealing her ports.
The schooner came on boldly, her crew evidently fancying that they had
got a rich prize before them.
"Are those Spaniards or French, Paul?" inquired True Blue of his
godfather.
"Anything you please, probably," was the answer. "They have, I doubt
not, as many flags on board as there are months in the year. She looks
at this distance just like a craft of that sort--a regular hornet; I
hope we may stop her buzzing."
While Paul was speaking, the wind fell, and the schooner, now about six
miles off, was seen to get out her sweeps and pull away from the
corvette.
"We must get that fellow!" exclaimed the boatswain. "If the Captain
will let me, I'll volunteer to pull after him. True Blue, you'll come?"
"I should think so," answered True Blue, looking into Paul's face. "If
none of the quarterdeck officers have thought of going, he'll not
refuse."
"I'll go too!" cried Abel Bush. "The superior officers have had their
share lately, and the Captain will be glad to give us our turn."
Without further parley, the two warrant-officers went to the
quarterdeck, where the Captain was standing. The lieutenant and master
gave up their right, as did the master's mates; and, accordingly, the
pinnace and launch were ordered to be lowered and manned immediately,
ready for service.
Paul went in the pinnace with True Blue, while Abel Bush had charge of
the launch. Away the boats glided in gallant style through the smooth
water. The men had taken a hurried breakfast before leaving the ship,
for they saw that they had a long pull before them.
The crew of the schooner seemed determined to give them as long a pull
as possible, and with their sweeps kept well ahead, not going less than
three or four knots an hour. This, however, in no way daunted the
boatswain and his companions. "Hurrah, my lads, we'll soon be aboard!"
he shouted. Give way--give way! In two minutes we may open fire on
her. We've distanced the launch. The schooner must be ours before she
comes up.
Even while he was speaking, the shot from the chase came falling pretty
thickly around them. That only made them pull the faster. The schooner
appeared to be full of men, with several guns on each side, and boarding
nettings fixed up. Paul might have been excused if he had waited for
the coming up of the other boat, but that was not his way of doing
things--on he pulled.
The schooner swept round so as to present her broadside to the
approaching boats; but he, altering his course a little, steered
directly for her quarter. Led by True Blue, the crew gave a loud cheer
as they dashed on under her counter, and then, pushing round to her
quarter, hooked on. In a moment, cutting the tricing lines of her
boarding nettings, they sprang up her side and threw themselves on the
deck. They were received with a shower of musket and pistol bullets,
and the points of a row of pikes.
The bullets struck down two of the daring boarders; but the remainder
pushed on, striking down the pikes with their cutlasses, and playing
havoc among the heads of the men who held them.
The Frenchmen stoutly defended themselves for some time with swords and
axes, but in vain did they attempt to withstand the fierce onslaught of
the British seamen. They began to give way; some were cut down, others
in their terror sprang overboard. Paul received a wound in his side
which prevented him from moving; but True Blue, heading his companions,
with his sharp cutlass whirling away in front, swept along the deck,
driving the Frenchmen before him.
A desperate stand was made by the officers of the vessel on the
forecastle, and from the small number of their assailants they might
even then have hoped, with some reason, still to gain the victory; but
while they were discussing what was to be done, the British seamen were
making good use of their cutlasses, and in another moment they found
themselves hurled down the hatchway, knocked overboard, or, if alive, on
their knees asking for quarter.
All opposition had ceased, and the schooner's flag was hauled down, when
Abel, in his heavy-pulling launch, came alongside.
"Well, mates, you've made quick work of the Monsieurs, and have had the
honour and glory, too, while we've only had the hot pull!" cried the
crew of the latter boat.
"And what's more, mates," answered the boatswain, "you'll have to pull
hard to get us back again; for there are few of us who have not got
touched up by the enemy."
Of this, the appearance of the survivors of the gallant crew of the
pinnace gave evidence. Paul himself was pretty severely wounded; and
True Blue, Hartland, Fid, and all the rest were more or less hurt. One
seaman had been killed, and one marine knocked overboard by the French.
The enemy's loss had, however, been much more severe. Out of a crew of
nearly fifty men, four lay killed on her deck, fully eight had jumped or
been knocked overboard, and a dozen or more were badly wounded.
After the remainder had been mustered and secured, a watchful eye was
kept on them; but they showed no disposition to mutiny, even though
compelled to work the sweeps, to enable the schooner to close with the
corvette.
Captain Brine highly applauded the gallant way in which the schooner had
been taken.
"Ay, sir, and I wish you could have seen my godson as his cutlass
cleared the Frenchman's decks!" exclaimed Paul.
"I have no doubt about it," answered the Captain. "It is no fault of
his friends that he is not on the quarterdeck. But for yourself, Mr
Pringle, I wish to know what reward you would like, that I may do my
best to secure it for you."
"I have not thought about that, sir; but if you could spare me, I should
be glad to have charge of the prize to take her to Jamaica. I should
just like to find out how I feel acting as Captain."
Captain Brine was amused at Paul's notion.
"But how will the _Gannet_ get on without her boatswain, Mr Pringle?"
asked the Captain. "She can ill spare him, I should think."
"Why, sir, I thought about that, and wouldn't have asked leave if I
didn't know my place would be well filled while I was away," replied
Paul. "There's my first mate, Dick Marlowe, a very steady man, who
hopes to pass as boatswain when he gets to England; and I'll engage the
duty is properly done while he is acting for me."
"But you and the rest are wounded. How can you do without a surgeon?"
said Captain Brine.
"Mere fleabites, sir--nothing to signify. The doctor has patched up my
side, and says I shall do well; and the lads I wish to take with me are
only slightly hurt, and don't want doctoring."
The Captain, on sending for the surgeon and hearing his report, made no
further objections, but promised compliance with Paul's wishes, the more
readily that the _Gannet_ herself was to go to Jamaica in a week or two.
The prisoners were soon removed from the prize, with the exception of a
Dane and a Dutchman, who volunteered to remain in her; while Paul took
with him True Blue, Tom Marline, Harry Hartland, Tim Fid, and three
other hands.
Paul had, since he became a warrant-officer, been studying navigation,
and was able to take an observation, and to do a day's work very
correctly. All his knowledge he imparted to True Blue, who, however,
quickly surpassed him, in consequence of Sir Henry frequently sending
for him aft, and giving him regular instruction. By this time,
therefore, True Blue, by directing his attention entirely to the work,
had become really as good a navigator as any of the midshipmen, and a
better one than those who were content to fudge their day's work, and
never attempted to understand the principle of the science.
Of navigation, Tom Marline, like most seamen not officers, was
profoundly ignorant. Paul, therefore, told him that he was very sorry
he could not bestow on him the rating of lieutenant, which he must give
to True Blue, but that he would make him sailing-master. Harry Hartland
should be a midshipman, on account of his general steadiness and
intelligence; the Dutchman should be cook, and the other four men crew;
while Tim Fid, who was little less a pickle than when he was a boy, must
do duty as gunroom and purser's steward, besides doing his work as part
of the crew.
At this arrangement no one grumbled; indeed, all hands liked the
boatswain. It was arranged that his gunroom officers should mess with
him, Harry also being invited as a regular guest. Paul took one watch
with four of the men. True Blue, with Tom, Harry, Fid, the Dane, and
the Dutchman, had the other.
These various arrangements occupied some time after the schooner lost
sight of the corvette. In the next day, the wind being very light, she
made but little progress. The day following, the weather, which had
long been fine, gave signs of changing; and instead of the clear blue
sky and glass-like sea, which for many weeks had surrounded the ship,
dark clouds gathered overhead, sudden gusts of winds began to blow, and
the water began to undulate, and every now and then to hiss and foam as
the blast passed over it. Then down came the rain in right earnest, and
continued for some hours, the watery veil obscuring every object beyond
a mile or so. Suddenly, as the rain ceased, about two miles off, a
schooner was seen, apparently the size of the prize, if not larger, and
dead to windward.
Paul instantly hoisted French colours, and the other vessel did the
same. On looking at her through a telescope, she appeared to have on
board a numerous crew. Paul, however, determined at all events not to
be taken, and, following the example of Captain Brine, he called his
crew aft and made them a speech.
"Lads," he began, "you know what we did in the corvette. We beat off a
frigate twice our size; we took this craft with twelve men, for, no
blame to him, my brother officer, Mr Bush, and his companions did not
come up till the day was gained. And I need not tell you, lads, we
ourselves and other British seamen have dared and done a thousand things
much more desperate than our attempting to beat off such a craft as that
one out there, though she may have five times as many hands aboard as we
have, and twice as many guns."
"Hurrah, that's just like him!" cried True Blue, turning to his
shipmates; "and I say, Mynheer, you'll fight, won't you?" he added,
seizing the Dutchman's hand and wringing it heartily.
"Ya, va! I'll stick by you brave Anglish lads," answered the Dutchman.
The Dane made a similar reply, though somewhat less cordial, to Tom's
appeal, and then all the crew, having given three hearty cheers, set
about getting their prize ready for action.
All the firearms were brought on deck and carefully loaded, and so were
the guns, and each man girded a trusty cutlass to his side and stuck his
belt full of pistols; and then Paul had all the hammocks brought on
deck, and lashed upright inside the bulwarks, so as to serve as a screen
to the men working the guns.
The prize had all this time been kept running on under full sail to the
westward, and as the stranger was steering the same course, the distance
between the two had not been decreased, the latter evidently being under
the impression that the prize was a friend.
Suddenly, though it was blowing fresh, she made more sail, put up her
helm, and bore down on the prize. Paul stood steadily on with the
French flag flying, till the enemy was within musket range; then down
came the tricolour and the British ensign flew out at the peak.
"Now, lads, as we've got the flag we all love to fight under aloft, give
it them!" he shouted, and, putting his helm down, he brought his
broadside to bear on the bows of the advancing stranger. Every one of
the raking shot told among the crowd of men who clustered on her deck.
Wild shrieks and cries arose; and now her helm being put down, she
ranged up on the beam of the prize, with the intention of boarding.
Paul, however, who saw their intention, told Harry Hartland, who was at
the helm, to keep away a little, so as to avoid actual contact; and in
the meantime all the guns were again fired, within ten yards' distance,
directly at the schooner. Hitherto, strange as it may appear, not an
Englishman had been hit, while some dozen or more of the enemy had been
struck down. Still the privateer had greatly the advantage in point of
numbers, besides being a larger and more heavily-armed vessel.
She now steered on alongside the prize for a few seconds, while her guns
were reloaded; and then, firing her broadside once more, she kept
suddenly away to run aboard her opponent.
The wind had been increasing, and the sea getting rapidly up. This was
now much to the advantage of the British, as they could fight their
weather guns far more easily than the enemy could their lee ones, the
muzzles of which were almost buried in the foam.
The stranger had got so close that Harry was not able to keep away in
time to avoid her running her bows right into the prize's quarter.
"Now we've got you, we'll keep you until we have given you more than you
bargained for!" cried True Blue, lashing the stranger's bowsprit to
their own mainmast, where she was kept in such a position that three of
their guns could be continually firing into her, while her crew could
not reach the prize's deck without taking a dangerous leap from their
bowsprit. Many attempted it; but as they reached the vessel's bulwarks,
they had to encounter the cutlasses of True Blue, Paul Pringle, and Tim
Fid, while Tom Marline and the other men kept the forward guns in active
work.
Frenchmen, negroes, Spaniards, mulattoes, and other mongrels were hurled
one after the other into the water; while numbers were jerked overboard
by the violent working of the vessels. At length, as the enemy, in
greater numbers than ever, were making a furious rush forward, fully
expecting to overwhelm the English, the bowsprit with a loud crash gave
way, carrying, as it did so, the foremast, just before wounded by a
shot, with it.
Wild shrieks and cries and imprecations rose from the savage crew--from
some as they fell into the boiling ocean below their feet, now swarming
with sharks, called around by the scent of human blood; from the rest at
their disappointment in missing their prey.
Glad as Paul would have been to make a prize, he saw that his opponent
would prove worse than a barren trophy.
"Up with the helm, Harry!" he cried. "Cut, my lads--cut everything!
Clear the wreck!"
The crew needed no second order. True Blue, axe in hand, had already
cut away the lashings of the bowsprit. A few more cuts cleared the
bowsprit shrouds and other ropes, by which the enemy still hung on, and
in another instant the prize was going off before the gale, while her
disabled opponent luffed up into the wind's eye.
Down came the squall, darker and more furious than before. Not another
shot was fired. Paul and his people had enough to do in shortening sail
and getting their craft into a condition to meet the rising gale. Their
strength, too, had been reduced in the action. The poor Dutchman was
severely wounded, though, like a brave fellow, he insisted on keeping
the deck, and so was one of the _Gannet's_ men.
With the next squall down came a thick pour of rain.
"Where is the enemy?" suddenly exclaimed True Blue, looking aft.
Paul turned his eyes in the same direction. "We cannot have run her out
of sight in so short a time," he answered gravely; "it's my belief that
she this instant has foundered, and all on board have become food for
the sharks."
"But ought we not to go about and see if any are afloat?" asked True
Blue. "We might pick up some of the poor wretches."
"Not the smallest use," answered Paul firmly. "If she foundered, she
went down too quickly to give any one a chance of escaping. We must
just now look after ourselves; this craft is very cranky, I see."
No one would have been more ready than Paul to help his
fellow-creatures, whatever the risk to himself, had he seen that there
was the slightest prospect of doing so effectually.
For the remainder of the day the prize stood on close-hauled, nearly up
to her proper course; but as the evening advanced, she fell off more to
the westward, while the sea increased more and more, as did the violence
of the squalls, while the thunder rolled, and vivid flashes of lightning
darted from the dark skies.
The night drew on. True Blue, with Tom, Harry, Tim, and the Dane, had
the first watch; Paul, with the rest of the crew, was to keep the middle
watch. Though tough enough, he was pretty well worn out with the
exertions he had gone through; so he went below, charging True Blue to
call him should anything particular occur. His cabin was on the
starboard side; and in the main cabin was a table with a swing light
above it, and also a compass light in the cabin binnacle.
True Blue with Tom walked the deck for some time, watching each change
of the weather; Fid had the helm, Harry was on the lookout forward,
while the Dane sat silent on a gun under the weather bulwarks. The rest
of the crew were asleep below forward.
The weather, as the night advanced, grew worse and worse.
"Tom, I think we ought to bring the schooner to," said True Blue at
last; "she'll do no good keeping at it, and a sudden squall may carry
away our masts."
Accordingly the schooner was at once brought to under her close-reefed
foresail; and then she lay riding with tolerable ease over the seas,
which foamed and hissed as they rushed past her.
Everything having been made secure, True Blue went below to report what
had been done. He found Paul sleeping more soundly than usual. Perhaps
some of the medicine the surgeon had given him, on account of his wound,
had affected him, True Blue thought. He had to speak two or three times
before he could make him comprehend what he had to say.
"All right," he answered at length; "if the weather gets worse, call me
again."
Scarcely had he uttered the words when he was thrown out of his
bed-place, and True Blue was sent with great violence against the
bulkhead of the cabin.
"On deck! on deck!" they both shouted; but as they made for the
companion-ladder, they were driven back by a tremendous rush of water:
the lights were extinguished, and they were left in total darkness.
Paul had scarcely recovered his senses, and neither he nor True Blue
could find their way to the companion-ladder.
The water continued rushing furiously into the cabin, and one thing only
was certain, that the schooner had upset. How the accident had
happened, it was difficult to say; in all probability, too, she was
sinking. The cabin was now more than three-quarters full of water, and
the only places where they could escape being instantly drowned were in
the berths on the starboard side. In vain they shouted to their friends
on deck to come and help them out of the cabin. No one answered to
their cries.
"They are all gone, I fear," said Paul. "It's the fate of many brave
seamen; it will be more than likely our fate before many minutes are
over. Still, godson, as I have always told you, it's our duty to
struggle for life to the last, like men; so climb up into these
starboard berths. We shall be free of the water there for a little time
longer."
True Blue followed Paul's advice; and there they clung, while the water
rose higher and higher. It got up to their waists, then up to their
armpits, and by degrees it almost covered their shoulders, though their
heads were pressed against the starboard side of the vessel, which lay
on her larboard beam-ends. Both were silent; they could not but expect
that their last moments were come, and that the vessel must shortly go
down.
Time passed on. The water did not further increase; but they felt
almost suffocated, and, indeed, the only air they breathed found its way
through the seams in the deck above their heads. There they hung, in
total darkness: the roar and rush of waters above their heads; the air
so close and oppressive that they could scarcely draw breath or find
strength to hold themselves in the only position in which they could
prolong their lives, while they had the saddest apprehensions for the
fate of their companions, as they could scarcely hope, even should they
succeed in regaining the deck, that they would find any of them alive.
Hour after hour passed away, when suddenly the vessel righted with a
violent jerk, which sent them out of their berths into the centre cabin,
where they found themselves swimming and floundering about, sometimes
with their heads under water, sometimes above it, among boxes, and
bales, and furniture, and articles of all sorts.
They were now fully aroused. True Blue exerted himself to help Paul,
who, wounded as he had been, and now sore and bruised, was less able
than usual to endure the hardships he was undergoing.
They were still in total darkness, and had to speak to let each other
know where they were. True Blue had worked his way close to the
companion hatch, and thought that Paul was following. He spoke, but
there was no answer. His heart sank within him. He swam and waded
back, feeling about in every direction with frantic eagerness.
"Paul Pringle--godfather--where are you?" he shouted.
Suddenly he felt an arm; it was Paul's. He lifted him up, and, with a
strength few could have exerted, dragged him under the companion hatch.
The ladder had been unshipped; but True Blue having righted it, dragged
Paul up a few steps, where, in a short time recovering his breath, and
Paul regaining his consciousness, they together made an effort to reach
the deck.