Half an hour or more passed, when again the leading French frigate
fired, the shot falling close to the counter of the _Diana_, which by
this time, having got up a fresh maintopmast, was able to make more
sail.
Captain Martin now ordered Lieutenant Sterling to cast off the tow rope
and to stand on ahead of him, while, to allow the _Diana_ to do so, he
clewed up the _Thisbe's_ topsails.
"Make the best of your way to Plymouth," he shouted, as the _Diana_
passed the _Thisbe_; "we'll keep these two fellows in play, and shall, I
hope, be soon after you."
As soon as the prize had got some distance ahead, Captain Martin, who
had been watching the two frigates coming up on the starboard quarter,
ordered the _Thisbe's_ helm to be put to port; at the same moment, her
starboard broadside being fired, the shot raked the two Frenchmen fore
and aft. The helm was then immediately put over, and the frigate coming
up on the other tack, her larboard broadside was poured into her
antagonists. The shot told with considerable effect. The foretopmast
of the leading frigate was shot away, and the mizenmast of the one
following was seen to go by the board. This, however, did not much
alter their rate of sailing, as, the wind being aft, all the canvas they
required continued set. They also opened their fire, and their shot
came crashing on board the _Thisbe_, killing and wounding two or three
men, but not doing any material damage to her spars or rigging. She
having shortened sail, her antagonists were compelled to do the same;
and while they poured their broadsides into her, she returned them as
rapidly as the crew could run the guns in and out.
Captain Martin's great object was to keep them engaged, and, if
possible, to knock away their masts, so as to enable the _Diana_ to
escape, for although he might hope to get off himself, he could not
expect to capture either of the enemy's ships.
The _Thisbe_ had been several times hulled, and her sails were already
completely riddled, while many more of her crew had fallen.
"It is going hard with us, I fear," said Jack to Tom, who was seated
next him on his powder tub. "There's well-nigh a score of poor fellows
killed or wounded within the last half-hour. It may be the lot of one
of us before long."
"Oh, dear! I hope not," cried Tom. "I wish the skipper would try and
get away instead of fighting the Frenchmen. Two to one is fearful odds
against us, and we shall have the two other ships blazing away at our
heads before long."
"We haven't much to fear from them," said Jack. "I have just heard
they're corvettes, and they won't be up to us until we've given the
other two a drubbing, and have made sail again to the northward."
The two corvettes were, however, likely to prove no despicable
opponents, and Captain Martin was only watching until he had knocked
away the masts or spars of one or both of the frigates, to make sail and
escape, for it would have been madness to have continued the fight
longer than was necessary to accomplish that object.
The Frenchmen, however, fought bravely, and evidently did not intend to
let him get off if they could help it. Each had just fired another
broadside into the _Thisbe_, when they were seen to haul their wind, the
two ships coming up astern doing the same. The reason of this was
evident: the line-of-battle ship to the westward, now approaching under
a pressure of sail, had hoisted British colours, and any longer delay
would have enabled her quickly to capture one or both of them. The
brave crew of the _Thisbe_ expressed their satisfaction by giving a loud
cheer, which was joined in even by many of the wounded.
Captain Martin had accomplished his object; he had secured the safety of
his prize, and his crew, now swarming aloft, set to work rapidly to knot
and splice the rigging which had been shot away.
As soon as this had been accomplished sufficiently to make sail, the
_Thisbe_, brought to the wind, stood after the flying enemy, firing her
bow chasers as she did so; but it was soon seen that she had little
chance of coming up with them. Still her captain persevered; but, with
both masts and spars wounded, it was impossible to carry as much sail as
would otherwise have been done. Consequently, before long the
line-of-battle ship, which made the signal _Terrible_, seventy-four,
overtook her.
A cheer rose from the deck of the big ship, which came gliding slowly
by. Her captain hailed, "Well done, Martin!"
The pursuit was continued for some time, but night was approaching, and
the coast of France was not far off. The seventy-four therefore threw
out the signal to bear up and a course was shaped for Plymouth.
A sharp look-out was kept during the night for the _Diana_. Soon after
sunrise she was seen steering for Plymouth, into which harbour Captain
Martin and his gallant crew had the satisfaction of conducting her the
following day. Although it was a day of triumph to the surviving crew,
it was one of mourning to many who had lost relatives and friends. The
dead were carried on shore to be buried, the wounded conveyed to
hospitals, the Frenchmen were landed and marched off under an escort of
marines to the prisons prepared for them, and press-gangs were soon busy
at work to obtain fresh hands to supply the places of those who had
fallen, although many prime seamen volunteered to serve on board a
frigate which had already won a name for herself.
Tom Fletcher, as soon as the ship got into harbour, managed to procure a
pen and some ink and paper, and indited a letter to his father. It was
not over-well written, but he contrived to make it pretty clearly
express that he was serving on board H.M.S. _Thisbe_, and that having
already seen a great deal of service, he felt sure that if his father
would apply to the Admiralty and make him an allowance of thirty or
forty pounds a year, he should be placed on the quarter-deck, and in due
course of time become an admiral.
"We are sure to make lots of prize-money," he added; "and if I were a
midshipman now, I should be receiving a hundred pounds or more, so that
you may be sure, father, that I will pay it all back with interest."
"Father likes interest," he observed to Bill, who was sitting by him at
the time, and helping him in his somewhat unaccustomed task; "that'll
make him more ready to do what I want, though whether he'll ever get the
money is neither here nor there."
"But if you promise to pay him, you are bound to do so," observed Bill.
"You need not have made the promise, then you could have waited to know
whether he required interest."
"Well, I've written it, and can't scratch it out now," said Tom. "It
will come to the same thing in the end."
Bill had some doubts whether Tom's father would make the allowance Tom
asked for; but if he were a rich man, as Tom asserted, he might do so,
and therefore he said nothing.
The letter, after being folded several times and creased all over, was
at length closed, sealed, and addressed, by which time it had assumed a
somewhat grimy appearance. Tom got the cook's mate, who was going on
shore, to post his letter, having told him that he expected to receive a
good sum of money by return, and promising him a part of the proceeds.
Bill and Jack looked forward to the reply with almost as much interest
as Tom himself, neither of them feeling that they should be at all
jealous, should it produce the satisfactory result he anticipated.
Meantime, every possible exertion was made to get the ship ready for
sea. Mr Saltwell was very busy superintending all the operations.
Bill, however, found that he was not forgotten, from a kind word or two
which on several occasions the first lieutenant bestowed upon him. As
Tom was not aware of this, he amused himself by telling Bill that Mr
Saltwell would not trouble himself more about him--that he must be
content to remain a powder monkey until he got big enough to be rated as
an ordinary seaman.
"Better than being cook's boy," cried Jack, who could never stand
hearing Bill sneered at. "He's a precious deal more likely to be made a
midshipman than you are, even though your father is a rich man and rides
in his carriage, as you say."
Tom retorted, and Jack looked as if he was much inclined to knock him
over, when the quarrel was cut short by the appearance of the cook's
mate, who dragged off Tom to help him clean the galley and scrub the
pots and pans.
Day after day went by. The frigate was reported ready for sea, and her
complement of men having been filled up, she only waited for her captain
to come on board to continue her cruise.
Still Tom had received no reply from his father. "Perhaps he or the
Admiralty may have written to the captain, and when he comes aboard I
shall be placed in my proper position," he observed in confidence to
Bill.
"I hope so, but I'm afraid there will be but little time for you to get
a proper uniform and an outfit," was the answer.
"I'm not much afraid of that; the tailors won't take long in rigging me
out," answered Tom.
Soon after this the captain came on board, and Tom, greatly to his
disappointment, was not sent for. Just, however, as the ship was going
out into the Sound, the mail-bag arrived, and a letter addressed,
"Thomas Fletcher, H.M.S. _Thisbe_," was handed him. He eagerly broke
the seal. As he was no great hand at reading writing, he was obliged to
ask Bill to assist him in deciphering the contents. He had, however, to
rub his eyes several times before he could make them out, even with his
messmate's help.
"It's not from father at all," he observed, after looking at the paper
all over. "S. Fletcher must be my biggest brother, and he always gave
me more kicks than ha'pence."