As soon as Rayner could obtain a spare moment, he hastened below to
visit poor Jack. He met Tom on the way.
"Jack's very bad, Mr Rayner," answered Tom to his inquiries. "He
didn't know me just now; he's talking about his mother, and fancying
she's nursing him."
This news made our hero feel very sad, and he hurried on to the lower
deck, where the wounded lay in their hammocks, sheltered by a canvas
screen.
He inquired of one of the attendants where Jack Peek was, and soon found
him, the surgeon being by his side dressing his wound.
"I'm much afraid that he will slip through our fingers unless we can
manage to quell the fever. He requires constant watching, and that is
more than he can well obtain, with so many men laid up, and so much to
do," said the doctor as he finished his task. "However, Rayner, if you
can stay by him, I'll be back in a few minutes to see how he's getting
on. In the meantime give him this medicine; if he comes to his senses,
a word or two from you may do him good."
Though Rayner himself could scarcely stand from fatigue, he undertook to
do as the doctor requested. He waited until he saw, by the light of the
lantern hung up from a beam overhead, that Jack had come somewhat to
himself, when he got him to take the draught he held in his hand.
"How do you feel, Jack?" he asked in a low tone; but poor Jack did not
reply. After waiting a little time longer, Rayner again spoke. "We've
beaten off the enemy, you know, and are safe under shelter of the land.
Cheer up now, you'll soon get round."
"Is that you, Bill?" asked Jack, in a faint voice. "I thought mother
was with me, and I was on shore, but I'm glad she's not, for it would
grieve her to see me knocked about as I am."
"You'll do well now, the doctor said so, as you've come to yourself,"
observed Rayner, much cheered at hearing Jack speak. "I'll stay by you
while it is my watch below, and then I'll get Tom to come. Now go to
sleep, if the pain will let you."
"The pain isn't so very great, and I don't mind it since we have licked
the enemy," answered Jack; "but I hope you won't be angry at me calling
you Bill; I quite forgot, Mr Rayner, that you were a midshipman."
"No, I didn't remark that you called me Bill," answered Rayner; "if I
had, I shouldn't have thought about it. I just feel as I did when I was
your messmate. However, I must not let you be talking, so now shut your
eyes and get some sleep; it will do you more good than the doctor's
stuff."
Rayner was very glad when the doctor came back, accompanied by Tom, and
having observed that Jack was going on as well as he expected, told him
to go to his hammock. This he gladly did, leaving Tom in charge of
their friend.
Rayner felt that he greatly needed rest; but as he had expended part of
his watch below, he could not have three hours' sleep.
On coming on deck he found the gale was blowing harder than ever, though
the frigate lay sheltered by the land.
Almost immediately the sound of a distant gun reached his ear. It was
followed rapidly by others, and the sound appeared to come down on the
gale.
"There's a ship in danger on the other side of Portland," observed the
second lieutenant, who was the officer of the watch. "Rayner, go and
tell the captain. He desired to be called if anything happened."
Captain Martin, who had only thrown himself down on his bed in his
clothes, was on his feet in a moment, and followed Rayner on deck.
After listening a minute. "It's more than possible she's our late
antagonist," he observed. "If the gale caught her unprepared, her masts
probably went by the board, and, unable to help herself, she is driving
in here. Get a couple of boats ready with some coils of rope, and
spars, and rockets, and we'll try and save the lives of the poor
fellows."
Rayner was surprised to hear this, supposing that the captain intended
to pull out to sea, whereas he had resolved to go overland to the part
of the coast which probably the ship in distress was approaching.
Although where the frigate lay was tolerably smooth water, yet, from the
white-crested seas which broke outside, and the roaring of the wind as
it swept over the land, it was very evident that no boat could live when
once from under its shelter.
The captain, accompanied by three gun-room officers, Rayner and another
midshipman, and twenty men, landed at the nearest spot where the boats
could put in, and proceeded overland in the direction from which the
sound of the guns had come.
Again and again they boomed forth through the midnight air. Solemnly
they struck on the ear, telling of danger and death. Scarcely, however,
had the party proceeded a quarter of a mile than they ceased. In vain
they were listened for. It was too evident that the ship had struck the
fatal rocks, and if so, there was not a moment to be lost, or too
probably the whole of the hapless crew would be lost.
The western shore was reached at last. As they approached the cliffs
they saw a number of people moving about, and as they got to the bay and
looked down over the foaming ocean, they could see a dark object some
fifty fathoms off, from which proceeded piercing shrieks and cries for
help. It was the hull of a large ship, hove on her beam-ends, her masts
gone, the after-part already shattered and rent by the fierce seas which
dashed furiously against her, threatening to sweep off the miserable
wretches clinging to the bulwarks and stanchions. To form a
communication with her was Captain Martin's first object. As yet it was
evident that no attempt of the sort had been made, most of the people
who had collected being more eager apparently to secure the casks,
chests, and other things thrown on shore than to assist their perishing
fellow-creatures. It was vain to shout and direct the people on the
wreck to attach a line to a cask and let it float in towards the beach.
The most stentorian voices could not make themselves heard when sent in
the teeth of the gale now blowing. On descending the cliffs, Captain
Martin and his party found a narrow strip of beach, on which they could
stand out of the power of the seas, which, in quick succession, came
foaming and roaring in towards them. He immediately ordered a couple of
rockets to be let off, to show the strangers that there were those on
shore who were ready to help them. No signal was fired in return, not
even a lantern shown, but the crashing, rending sounds which came from
the wreck made it too evident that she could not much longer withstand
the furious assaults of the raging ocean. Captain Martin inquired
whether any of his crew were sufficiently good swimmers to reach the
wreck.
Rayner longed to say that he would try, but he had never swum in a heavy
sea, and felt that it would be madness to make the attempt.
"I'll try it, sir," cried Ben Twinch, the boatswain's mate, one of the
most powerful men in the ship. "I'd like, howsomdever, to have a line
round my waist. Do you stand by, mates, and haul me back if I don't
make way; there are some ugly bits of timber floating about, and one of
them may give me a lick on the head, and I shan't know what's
happening."
Ben's offer was accepted. While the coil of line was being got ready, a
large spar, to which a couple of men were clinging, was seen floating in
towards the beach, but it was still at some distance, and there was a
fearful probability that before it touched the shore the reflux of the
water might drag them off to destruction.
"Quick, lads, quick, and I'll try to get hold of one or both of them, if
I can," cried Ben, fastening the rope round his body. His example was
followed by another man, who, in the same way, secured a rope round
himself, when both plunged in and seized the well-nigh drowning
strangers, just as, utterly exhausted, they had let go their hold. They
were able, however, to speak, and Rayner discovered that they were
French.
By the captain's directions he inquired the name of the ship.
"The _Zenobie_ frigate, of forty guns and three hundred and forty men,"
was the answer. "We had an action yesterday with an English frigate,
which made off while we were repairing damages, but truly she so knocked
us about that when we were caught by the gale our masts went over the
side, and we were driven utterly helpless on this terrible coast."
Rayner did not tell the _Thisbe's_ men, who were trying to assist the
hapless strangers, that they were their late antagonists. He merely
said, "They are Frenchmen, lads; but I'm sure that will make no
difference to any of us."
"I should think not, whether they're Mynheers or Mounseers," cried Ben.
"They're drowning, and want our help; so, whether enemies or friends,
we'll try to haul as many of the poor fellows ashore as we can get hold
of, and give them dry jackets, and a warm welcome afterwards. Slack
away, mates!" And he plunged into the foaming billows.
His progress was anxiously watched as he rose now on the top of a
roaring sea, now concealed as he sank into the hollow to appear again on
the side of another, all the time buffeting the foaming breakers, now
avoiding a mass of timber, now grasping a spar, and making it support
him as he forced his way onward, until he was lost to sight in the
gloom.
After a considerable time of intense anxiety it was found that the line
was taut. Ben had, it was supposed, reached the forechains of the
frigate. Then the question rose, whether he would be able to make
himself understood by the Frenchmen. One of the men, however, who had
been washed on shore said that he believed one or two people on board
understood English; but it was doubtful whether they were among those
who had already perished.
Some more minutes passed, and then they felt the line shaken. It was
the signal for them to haul in. Rapidly pulling away, they at length
had the satisfaction of finding the end of a stout hawser, with a
smaller line attached to it. The hawser was made fast round a rock,
then, knowing the object of the line, they hauled away at it until they
saw a cradle coming along with a couple of boys in it. The moment they
were taken out the cradle was hauled back, and then a man appeared, and
thus, one after another, about sixty of the French crew were dragged on
shore.
Every time the cradle appeared, his shipmates hoped to see Ben in it;
but Rayner learned from one of the persons in it that he had remained on
the wreck, assisting those who were too benumbed or bewildered with fear
to secure themselves.
As the poor Frenchmen were landed, they were placed under charge of some
of the men appointed for the purpose, while two of the officers supplied
the most exhausted with such restoratives as they required.
Many, they said, had already been washed off the wreck and been lost,
while others were too much paralysed by fear even to make their way to
where Ben was standing, lashed to a stanchion, ready to help them into
the cradle.
Great fears were now entertained lest he should suffer by his noble
exertions to save others. The crashing and rending sounds increased in
frequency. Every instant some huge portion of the wreck was rent away,
and the whole intervening mass of seething waters was covered by dark
fragments of timber, tossing and rolling as they approached the beach,
or were floated out to sea, or cast against the rocks. Still the
Frenchmen kept arriving. Now one more daring than the others would
crawl along the cable in spite of the risk of being washed off by the
hungry breakers into which it was occasionally plunged.
Rayner, who stood on the rock with a party engaged in assisting the
people as they arrived in the cradle, inquired whether there were many
more to come.
"I think so, monsieur," was the answer; "we mustered nearly four hundred
souls, but of those, alas! numbers have already been washed away."
Again and again those fearful crashings, mingled with despairing
shrieks, were heard above the roar of wild breakers. Rayner felt
serious apprehensions about the safety of brave Ben.
At any moment the wreck might break up, and then it would be scarcely
possible for a human being to exist amidst the masses of timber which
would be hurled wildly about.
Again the cradle was to be hauled in. In came with greater difficulty
than before, as if it carried a heavier weight. It seemed as if the
cable would not bear the additional strain.
The British seamen exerted all their strength, for at any moment, even
if the cable did not break, it might be torn from its holdfast on the
wreck. As the cradle came in, two men were seen seated in it, one
holding another in his arms. Rayner heard the words, "Vite, vite, mon
ami, ou nous sommes perdu."
"Haul away, lads, haul away!" he shouted out, though his men required no
urging.
Just as the cradle was reaching the rock, a crash, even louder than its
predecessors, was heard. Several men sprang forward to grasp the
occupants of the cradle. The outer end of the rope had given way, and
in another instant they would have been too late.
Again the wild shrieks of despair of the helpless wretches who still
remained on the wreck echoed along the cliffs.
"Poor Ben! has he gone?" exclaimed Rayner. "No, sir, he's one of those
we've just got ashore," answered a quarter-master who, with several
others, had rushed down to help the two men taken out of the cradle, and
who were now bearing the apparently inanimate body of the boatswain's
mate up the rock; "the other's a Frenchman by his lingo."
Rayner hurried to the spot, when what was his surprise, as the light of
the lantern fell on the countenance of the Frenchman last landed, to see
Pierre's father, Captain Turgot!
Putting out his hand, he warmly shook that of his old friend, who opened
his eyes with a look of astonishment, naturally not recognising him.
"Don't you know me, Captain Turgot?" said Rayner. "I am one of the boys
you saved when our frigate was blown up."
"What! are you little Bill?" exclaimed the honest fisherman. "That is
wonderful. Then you escaped after all. I am indeed glad."
There was no time just then, however, for explanations. Rayner thanked
his old friend for saving Ben's life.
"I could do nothing else," was the answer. "He was about to place
another man in the cradle who had not the courage to get into it by
himself, when a piece of timber surging up struck both of them, the
other was swept away, and the brave English sailor would have suffered
the same fate had I not got hold of him; and then, though I had made up
my mind to remain to the last, I saw that the only way to save him was
to bring him myself in the cradle to the shore, and I am thankful that I
did so. But my poor countrymen! There are many still remaining who
must perish if we cannot get another hawser secured to the wreck."
This was what Captain Martin was now endeavouring to do, but there was
no one found willing or able to swim back to the wreck. The danger of
making the attempt was, indeed, far greater than at first.
Ben was regaining his consciousness; but even had he been uninjured,
after the exertions he had gone through, he would have been unfit to
repeat the dangerous exploit.
Captain Turgot offered to try; but when he saw the intermediate space
through which he would have to pass covered with masses of wreck, he
acknowledged that it would be impossible to succeed.
The final catastrophe came at last. A tremendous wave, higher than its
predecessors, rolled in, apparently lifting the wreck, which, coming
down again with fearful force upon the rocks, split into a thousand
fragments.
As the wave, after dashing furiously on the shore, rolled back again, a
few shattered timbers could alone be perceived, with not a human being
clinging to them.
Shrieks of despair, heard above the howling tempest, rose from the
surging water, but they were speedily hushed, and of the struggling
wretches two men alone, almost exhausted, were thrown by a succeeding
wave on the shingly beach, together with the bodies of several already
numbered among the dead.
When Captain Martin came to muster the shipwrecked men saved by his
exertions, he found that upwards of three hundred of the crew of his
late antagonist had perished, seventy alone having landed in safety.
Leaving a party on the beach to watch lest any more should be washed on
shore, he and the magistrate led the way up the cliff. The Frenchmen
followed with downcast hearts, fully believing that they were to be
treated as prisoners of war. Some of them, aided by the British seamen,
carried those who had been too much injured to walk.
After they had arrived at a spot where some shelter was found from the
fury of the wind, Captain Martin, calling a halt, sent for Rayner, and
told him to assure the Frenchmen that he did not look upon them as
enemies or prisoners of war, but rather as unfortunate strangers who,
having been driven on the English coast by the elements, had a right to
expect assistance and kind treatment from the inhabitants, and that such
it was his wish to afford them.
Expressions of gratitude rose from the lips of the Frenchmen when Rayner
had translated what Captain Martin had said. The magistrate then
offered to receive as many as his own house could accommodate, as did
two gentlemen who had accompanied him, their example being followed by
other persons, and before morning the whole of the shipwrecked seamen
were housed, including three or four officers, the only ones saved. The
poor fellows endeavoured by every way in their power to show how
grateful they were for the kindness they were receiving.
Captain Martin's first care was to write an account of the occurrence to
the Admiralty, stating what he had done, and expressing a hope that the
shipwrecked crew would be sent back as soon as possible to France.
By return of post, which was not, however, until the end of three or
four days, Captain Martin had the satisfaction of receiving a letter
from the king himself, highly approving of his conduct, and directing
that the Frenchmen should each receive as much clothing and money as
they required, and as soon as a cartel could be got ready, sent back to
Cherbourg or some other French port.
News of the battered state of the _Thisbe_ having been received at the
Admiralty, a frigate was ordered round to escort her into port, as she
was not in a position to put to sea safely by herself. The Frenchmen
having been received on board the two frigates, and a light northerly
breeze springing up, they sailed together for Plymouth. The pumps were
kept going on board the _Thisbe_ during the whole passage, when the
Frenchmen, at the instigation of Captain Turgot, volunteered to work
them.
Rayner had many a talk about Pierre with his old friend, who longed to
embrace his son, and was profuse in his expressions of gratitude for the
kindness he had received.
Directly he returned on board, Rayner went to Jack, whom he found going
on well. Captain Turgot, on hearing that Jack had been wounded, begged
permission to see him, and from that moment spent every instant he could
by his side, tending him as if he had been his own son.
It was curious to see the way the English sailors treated their French
guests who had so lately been engaged with them in a desperate fight.
Several were suffering from bruises and exposure on the wreck. These
were nursed with a tender care, as if they had been women or children,
the sailors carrying those about whose legs had been hurt, and feeding
two or three, whose hands or arms had been injured, just as if they had
been big babies.
The rest of the Frenchmen who had escaped injury quickly recovered their
spirits, and might have been seen toeing and heeling it at night to the
sound of Bob Rosin's fiddle; and Bob, a one-legged negro, who performed
the double duty of cook's second mate and musician-general of the ship,
was never tired of playing as long as he could get any one to dance.
The style of performance of the two nationalities was very different,
but both received their share of applause from one another. The
Frenchmen leapt into the air, whirled, bounded and skipped, while the
British tars did the double-shuffle and performed the various evolutions
of the hornpipe, to the admiration of their Gallic rivals.
By the time they had reached Plymouth they had won each other's hearts,
and hands were wrung, and many of the Frenchmen burst into tears as they
took their leave of their gallant entertainers, all protesting that they
should always remember their kindness, and expressing the hope that they
should never meet again except as friends.
Sad it is that men, who would be ever ready to live on friendly terms
and advance their mutual interests, should, by the ambition and lust of
power of a few, be compelled to slaughter and injure each other, as has
unhappily been the case for so many centuries throughout the whole
civilised portion of the world.
As soon as the anchor was dropped, Rayner asked for leave to go on shore
with Captain Turgot, to visit Mrs Crofton, and learn how Pierre was
getting on.
"You may go, but you must return on board at night, as there is plenty
of work to be done," answered the first lieutenant.
"Thank you, sir," said Rayner; and he hurried below to tell Captain
Turgot to get ready.
They shoved off by the first boat going on shore. They walked on
quickly through the streets of Plymouth, Rayner anticipating the
pleasure of seeing Mrs Crofton and Mary, and of witnessing the meeting
between the honest Frenchman and his son.
"I hope that we shall find Pierre recovered; but the doctor said his
wound would take long to heal, and you must not be surprised if he is
still unable to move," he said to Captain Turgot. "Our friends will
take very good care of him, and perhaps you would like to remain behind
until he is well."
"I would wish to be with him, but I am anxious to relieve the anxiety of
Madame Turgot and Jeannette, who, if they do not see me, will suppose
that I am lost," answered the Captain. "I shall grieve to leave my boy
behind, but I know that he will be well cared for, and I cannot tell
you, my young friend, how grateful I am. Little did I think, when I
picked you up out of the water, how amply you would return the service I
did you."
"I certainly did not expect in any way to be able to repay it," said
Rayner, "or, to say the truth, to feel the regard for Frenchmen which I
do for you and your son."
Rayner found Mrs Crofton and her daughter seated in the drawing-room.
After the first greetings were over, and he had introduced Captain
Turgot, he inquired after Pierre, expecting, through not seeing him,
that he was still unable to leave his room.
"He has gone out for a short walk, as the doctor tells him to be in the
fresh air as much as possible, and he is well able to get along with the
help of a stick," answered Mrs Crofton. "I hope his father has not
come to take him away, for we shall be very sorry to lose him?"
"I don't know whether he will be allowed to go without being exchanged,"
answered Rayner; and he gave an account of the wreck of the _Zenobie_
and the arrangement which had been made for sending the survivors of her
crew back to France.
"That is very kind and generous of our good king. No wonder that his
soldiers and sailors are so ready to fight for him," remarked Mrs
Crofton.
While they were speaking, Pierre entered the house. His joy at seeing
his father almost overcame him. They threw themselves into each other's
arms and embraced as Frenchmen are accustomed to embrace--somewhat, it
must be confessed, to Mary's amusement. After they had become more
tranquil they sat down and talked away at such a rate that even Rayner
could scarcely understand what they were saying. He meantime had a
pleasant conversation with Mary and her mother, for he had plenty to
tell them, and they evidently liked to listen to him.
After some time, during a pause in the conversation, Captain Turgot
desired Pierre to tell Mrs Crofton and her daughter how grateful he
felt for their kindness, his own knowledge of English being insufficient
to express his wishes.
They, hearing him, replied in French, and soon the whole party was
talking away in that language, though Mary's French, it must be
admitted, was not of a very choice description; but she laughed at her
own mistakes, and Rayner helped her out when she was in want of a word.
The afternoon passed pleasantly away, and Rayner, looking at his watch,
was sorry to find it was time to return. He told Pierre that he must
report his state to the Captain and Mr Saltwell, who would decide what
he was to do.
Captain Turgot went back with him, having nowhere else to go.
Captain Martin lost no time in carrying out the wishes of the kind king.
A brig was chartered as a cartel, on board of which the Frenchmen were
at once sent. Rayner was not aware that Mr Saltwell had obtained
permission for Pierre to go back with his father, and was much surprised
on being directed to go to Mrs Crofton's, and to escort him on board
the brig.
Pierre seemed scarcely to know whether to laugh or cry at regaining his
liberty as he took leave of his kind hostess and her daughter; but his
desire to see his mother and sister and la belle France finally overcame
his regret at parting from them, and he quickly got ready to set off.
"We shall be happy to see you as soon as you can come again, Mr
Rayner," said Mrs Crofton.
"Oh yes," added Mary, in a sweet voice, with a smile, which made our
hero at once promise that he would lose no opportunity of paying them a
visit. Rayner's first duty was to see Captain Turgot and Pierre on
board the cartel. They embraced him with tears in their eyes as they
wished him farewell, and many of the grateful Frenchmen gathered round
him, several expressing their hopes that France and England would soon
make up their quarrel.
"What it's all about, ma foi, is more than I or any of us can tell,"
exclaimed a boatswain's mate, wringing Rayner's hand, which all were
eager to grasp. "We are carried on board ship and told to fight, and so
we fight--more fools we! If we were wise, we should navigate our
merchant vessels, or go fishing, or stay at home and cultivate our
fields and gardens. We all hope that there'll be peace when we next
meet, messieurs."
Many others echoed the sentiment, and cheered Rayner, who, after he had
sent many kind messages to Madame Turgot and Jeannette, hurried down the
side and returned on board the frigate.