himself, Travers, and Arthur, were left below, with two sailors, in the
hold. The French captain put his mate and a few seamen on board the
Aurora, just sufficient to navigate her into Dunkirk, and proceeded on
his cruise. The situation of the prisoners was now a little improved:
for the mate, to whose charge they were committed, took off the fetters
from Captain Ridley and Travers, and allowed them better berths; and
when Arthur, by signs, made him understand how ill his father was, he
gave him some wine, and suffered him to occupy the cabin that had
formerly been his own. For some days, Arthur thought it impossible for
his father to live, as his illness was violent, and he had no medical
assistance; yet the strength of his constitution was such, that in a
few days he passed the crisis of the fever favourably, and got a little
better, though he remained as weak and feeble as an infant. Travers kept
up his own and Arthur's spirits with the hope that they might fall in
with some British cruiser and be retaken; but, however probable such a
circumstance was, yet day passed after day, and they still remained
captives, until it was reckoned that another or two would bring them
into a French port. Arthur's mild manners and affectionate attention to
his sick father induced the French mate to permit him to come when he
pleased on deck; and one morning, after he had watched by his father
till he fell asleep, he asked Travers to supply his place while he went
on deck to take a little fresh air. He sat down on a chest, after he had
paced to and fro in a very melancholy mood, and began to muse
sorrowfully on the case they were in. "Here," thought he, "my poor
father will be dragged to a French prison, and there he must die; for,
in his weak state, the hardships he will have to go through will
certainly kill him; and, perhaps, I shall never see England, nor my
home, nor my cousin Phoebe again! Is there no remedy to be found for
all this?"
He kept lifting up the lid of the chest he sat on, without noticing what
he was about, till he pinched his finger pretty sharply, which drew his
attention to it; and he saw it was a chest of arms belonging to the
Frenchmen, and filled with sabres and muskets. At the first glance of
these weapons, a thought darted through Arthur's brain, which he
instantly ran down to communicate with Travers. He mentioned the arms to
him, and said: "What hinders our retaking the ship? Surely it might be
done with a little prudence and courage."
"And dare you venture on a scheme so full of peril? Can you look death
stoutly in the face? For I tell you plainly, if we should fail, death,
without mercy, would be our portion. Think on it, boy, and search your
own mind; for an undertaking of this kind requires a cool head and an
undaunted heart!"
"I dare," said Arthur firmly, laying his hand on his breast; "I will
freely venture my life to regain the ship and our liberty. Think of a
plan, and I will do my part as far as my strength will go."
"I have thought much of it already," answered Travers; "but your years
were so tender, that I mistrusted your prudence, though not your
courage. If we attempt it, we must proceed by art, rather than by force.
We must take the opportunity of mastering the French, when one part of
the crew are asleep and the other off their guard."
"In the night, I suppose?" said Arthur.
"Yes," said Travers. "It will be a sanguinary business; but the
provocation was theirs. Surely a man may strive even unto death for his
liberty."
"Ah!" said Arthur; "but it is a frightful thing to murder so many
sleeping men--to send so many to their great account, without a moment's
warning. I have thought that it is possible to take them prisoners
without hurting them."
"Well!" said Travers; "let us hear your plan. I should be glad of
anything that would save me the horrid work of despatching sleeping
men."
"If I had a large gimblet and a dozen strong nails," said Arthur, "I
would engage to secure all the Frenchmen but two, without hurting a hair
of their heads."
"Yours seems a notable plan!" said Travers; "and if it is only the want
of such tools that stops you, here is a great gimblet that the
Frenchmen lent me, instead of a corkscrew, and you will find two or
three hundred large nails in that cupboard. But tell me how such a
little fellow as you can think of mastering six stout men?"
"You know," replied Arthur, "that if a hole were bored in the panels of
our sleeping berths, and a nail slipped in when they are shut, it would
be impossible to slide them back, to open them. I go about the ship
without being suspected, and could take the opportunity, when the men
are all on deck, of boring a hole, and fitting a strong nail in each
berth, ready to be put in when I choose; and when the Frenchmen are all
safe asleep in their berths, I may put in the nails, and they will be as
safe as if they were caught in so many traps."
"It is an ingenious scheme," said Travers; "and I allow that it has
every prospect of success. To-night, therefore, we will make the
attempt; for every hour brings us nearer to Dunkirk. But hark'e, Arthur;
don't let your father know our plan till it has either succeeded or
failed; for he is so impatient, and still so weak, that the suspense
would probably kill him."
"It will be much the best," said Arthur; "but I must go, for the
Frenchmen are all on deck,--so now or never."
So saying, he left the cabin. Hour passed after hour, and Travers saw no
more of him. Captain Ridley awoke; and Travers gave him some gruel,
which he had boiled for his dinner. The sick man found great fault with
it, and inquired very peevishly for Arthur. Travers made him some vague
answer, and Captain Ridley complained much of his absence, assured
Travers that he was the worst nurse in the world, and that it was a
shame for that boy to leave him, and at last grumbled himself to sleep
again.
Travers now began to be exceedingly alarmed; thinking that Arthur had
been taken in the attempt, and perhaps murdered. He looked at the sun,
(for his captors had spared him the trouble of keeping a watch,) and
thought it might be about four o'clock, when Arthur appeared at the
cabin-door, and with a pale cheek, but a look of determined courage,
beckoned Travers, without uttering a word. He left the cabin, and
followed Arthur with a noiseless step. While they were ascending the
companion-ladder, Arthur turned round, and said in a low voice: "Every
man in the ship is secured excepting two; one of whom is at the helm,
and the other in the shrouds: master them, and the ship is ours!"
There was no time for questions; or Travers would have asked how all
this came to pass: but Arthur hurried him on deck; and, going to the
arm-chest, gave Travers a sabre, and armed himself with a musket.
Travers stepped to the steerage, and took the helmsman unawares; who
uttered a cry of astonishment at seeing a man standing near him in a
threatening attitude, with a drawn sabre in his hand, and began, with a
loud voice, to implore for mercy. This supplication reached the ears of
his companion in the shrouds, who, putting a stop to the Marseillaise
Hymn, with which he was entertaining himself, began to descend with
great expedition. But Arthur stopped his progress by levelling his
musket at him; and by his menaces made him understand, that if he did
not remain where he was, he would receive the whole contents in his
body. Now the French sailor did not know, nor did Arthur at the time
remember, that there was no charge in the musket. However, it had the
effect of intimidating the man, who made signs that he would obey, and
supplicated with his hands for his life.
Travers and Arthur had proceeded thus far with success; but they were at
this moment in a most awkward predicament, for each held his man in
check, yet it was necessary to do something more. The steersman was a
strong muscular fellow, and notwithstanding that, had at first been
frightened by the suddenness of the occurrence; yet Arthur saw, by the
expression of watchfulness that lurked in the turn of his eye, that he
only waited till Travers was off his guard, to spring upon him.
There was a coil of strong rope, which lay about twelve paces from
Arthur on the deck; of this he longed to make himself master: but he was
afraid of taking his attention from his prisoner above; for he knew how
soon a sailor could swing himself from rope to rope, and stand on deck
in a moment. At last he lost all patience, and determined to trust to
the man's fears: so with one spring he seized the cord and gave it to
Travers, and resumed his guard with the musket, whilst Travers pinioned
his prisoner, and bound him so strongly that escape was impossible. They
then beckoned the man above to descend, and soon bound him safely.
"Now," said Arthur, "you must take the helm, my friend; whilst I go
below, and set at liberty our two shipmates, who are confined between
decks."
He soon returned with the two English sailors, who could scarcely
believe that they were at liberty, and the ship in their possession.
Travers's first care was to shift the sails and alter their course. They
then went down to tell Captain Ridley what had happened. As soon as they
came below, they heard a most violent uproar among the Frenchmen, who
were shouting and calling, and accusing each other of shutting up the
berths. Travers thought it quite necessary to dispose of them, for fear,
when they grew desperate, they should split the panels. He therefore
called down the stoutest of his men, opened the berths, one by one, and
put the irons they had formerly occupied, on their astonished prisoners;
who by many gestures and exclamations, expressed their surprise at such
a proceeding.
They then took them to the hold; and, after securely confining them,
they went to Captain Ridley.
When Arthur came into the cabin, his father was sitting up in his berth,
with a very discontented air; and, after making a sour face or two,
began to complain of being neglected. He told Arthur that he could have
sat up a few hours, if he had been there to dress and assist him. "I
have just been wakened," said he, "by those detestable Frenchmen making
the most hateful noise I ever heard: I thought they were certainly
murdering you all."
"Come, come, Walter!" said Travers; "don't look so sulky at the most
noble boy that ever a father was blessed with: but take Arthur in your
arms, and thank him for the recovery of your ship and of your liberty."
"What!" said Captain Ridley; "have we met with one of our cruisers? And
are we retaken? Well, Travers, if you are in your right wits, and know
what you are talking of, this is the news that will presently make me
well again."
"Did I say that we had fallen in with any of our ships?" answered
Travers. "But I tell you now, in plain English, that by the prudence and
courage of your brave boy, your ship is your own again: we are all
free; the Frenchmen are in irons; and we have tacked about for Old
England, instead of being carried into Dunkirk."
"And _Arthur_, you say, has done all this; but how?--You are not given
to tell lies, Jack Travers,--and yet I can hardly believe it."
"I don't wonder that you can't," returned Travers, "for I can scarcely
trust my own senses that it is so. But this is the short of the matter:
Arthur, this morning, contrived a scheme for fastening the Frenchmen in
their berths when they were asleep. He went away to prepare matters for
it. The attempt was not to have been made till night. But, to my
surprise, he came to me, an hour ago, and told me he had all our enemies
secure, except two. Those we easily managed; and, after getting the
assistance of our two men, we as easily mastered the others. How Arthur
contrived to execute his plan so soon, he can best tell you, for I have
not yet heard."
But Arthur could not just then speak. He had thrown himself into his
father's extended arms, and given ease to the fulness of his heart in a
burst of tears. It was some moments before he raised his head from his
father's bosom, who thanked and blessed him, and declared that were
everything in the world taken from him and his gallant boy spared, he
should still consider himself the happiest and richest of men.
When Arthur had recovered from the agitation that had deprived him of
his voice, Travers again pressed him to tell by what means he had
secured the Frenchmen.
"You know," said Arthur, "I left you with the intention of fitting the
nails into the panels. I got safely into the cabin, where they slept,
and soon bored all the holes; but when I came to fit in my nails, I
found they might be pushed out with a violent shake; and, you know, they
could not be knocked in tight without a great noise. For some minutes I
thought our scheme was at an end; but at last I remembered there was a
paper of large screws in the locker. These I soon found, and made holes
in the top and bottom of each panel, and then greased the screws; so
that I could put them all in with a screw-driver without the least
noise. I likewise greased the slides of the panels, that they might slip
easily. Well, while I was at work, I recollected that the Frenchmen were
in the habit of sleeping for an hour or two in the middle of the day,
leaving only two men on deck. This, therefore, appeared the best time
for the execution of our plan; for it was likely we might blunder in the
dark, and they were off their guard and in such security in the middle
of the day, that I was determined to try. About three o'clock, they all
came down and tumbled into their berths. I waited more than half an
hour, and then stole into the cabin, hoping they were asleep. Some of
the panels were open; my hands trembled as I closed them; but
fortunately I made no noise. After I had put in the screws, I tried
every panel, and found that all were well secured. I then went to you:
and, by the blessing of Heaven, everything has thus far gone
prosperously!"
"And all we have now to do," said Travers, "is to keep what we have
gained; that, Arthur, is not the least part of the work: but there shall
be no exertion wanting on my part to bring the good ship safe into an
English port."
Travers faithfully kept his word: for he paced the deck of the Aurora,
with pistols in his hands, almost night and day; and when he was
compelled to take a little rest, Arthur kept watch with equal vigilance.
Two desperate attempts were made by the French crew to regain their
liberty: the last time, Captain Ridley (who was now able to walk about
and come on deck) was greatly inclined to send a volley of musket-balls
among them; but Arthur and Travers both implored him to shed no blood,
if it were possible to avoid it. After a few days of incessant toil and
anxiety, a favourable gale carried them into the Thames; and, a few
hours after their arrival at Sheerness, they had the pleasure of seeing
the privateer which had captured them brought in as a prize, at the
stern of a British frigate. She had been taken whilst cruising in the
Channel: and thus the whole of the crew of the Aurora were delivered
from their anticipated sufferings in a French prison. Captain Ridley
lost no time in disposing of the Aurora and her cargo. He said he would
tempt the sea no longer, but remain peacefully in the quiet home he was
so fortunate as to possess. "And, Travers, my friend," said he, "I need
hardly tell you, that whilst I have a guinea, you shall share it; and
whilst I have a home, it shall shelter you." Half of the money which the
cargo produced, Captain Ridley settled on Travers: he rewarded the two
men who had assisted in bringing home the Aurora, and made a present to
all his sailors who had been retaken in the privateer.
During their stay in London, their story was the news of the day; and
much admiration was excited by the conduct of Travers and Arthur; and
Captain Ridley was given to understand, from high authority, that if his
son chose to enter the navy, he should be peculiarly marked for
promotion.
Walter Ridley no longer wished to control his son. He respected his
courage and high principles; and left it to his choice, whether he would
return and cultivate the farm, or accept the offer that had been made
him.
"Father," said Arthur, "I am very young, and have a life before me that
I am now convinced may be more usefully employed than in a state of
inactive ease. I will serve my country with alacrity; and I pray God I
may be able to do something for her service."
I will not stay to describe their arrival at Alston Moor, nor the joyful
meeting between Arthur and his aunt and cousin. Many years have rolled
on since Arthur went through his service as midshipman, and passed as
lieutenant with the greatest credit: he is now a gallant and
distinguished officer,--the pride of his father, the delight of his old
friend Travers, an honour to his country, and the husband of his pretty
cousin Phoebe.
The picture I have drawn is not exaggerated. Arthur is no creature of my
imagination; it was drawn from life, and may be realized by any youth
who takes for his rule of life the maxim of our Church: "Do thy duty in
that state of life unto which it shall please God to call thee."
* * * * *
This tale is founded on facts: and the recapture of the ship,
extraordinary as it may seem, is a simple relation of occurrences that
really happened, in the beginning of the American war, when the Lark
merchant-ship was taken by a French privateer, and retaken by her
captain, having no English on board, but a boy, and an English merchant,
one of the Society of Friends. This gentleman refused to stain his hands
with blood: but assisted in this peaceable recapture with great firmness
and resolution. The underwriters presented the captain with L100, as a
small reward for his intrepidity.
THE FISHERMAN'S COTTAGE.
Nearly a century and a half ago, there lived, in a little cottage on the
eastern coast, an aged widow and her two grandsons. Although neither
carpenter nor bricklayer was employed in the construction of this
cottage, it was as neat a fisherman's cabin as any in that part of
England. James Mayhew, the widow's son, had ingeniously built it on the
sea-beach, under the cliffs. It was formed of pebbles and sea-stones;
and he had, with great toil and labour, carried down earth from the
cliffs, and made a nice little kitchen-garden, which formed a pleasing
contrast with the barren sands that surrounded the cottage; and this,
with a shed for a cow, (which got her living on the common belonging to
the adjacent town,) made a very comfortable little dwelling place. It
was poor James's summer work; and at Michaelmas he brought to live in it
his widowed mother, old Amy Mayhew, and his wife, who had formerly been
a tidy dairy-maid, and to whom he had been married just a twelvemonth.
Now James was very clever and industrious; he could turn his hand to any
sort of work; he would labour for the farmers at harvest and seed-time,
and pursued the trade of a fisherman the rest of the year. He made one
harvest on the land, and two more from the sea; for he used to go out in
a boat and catch herrings and mackerel at those seasons when they abound
so plentifully on our coasts. James was an excellent son and husband,
and would, no doubt, have been as good a father. His wife had just
presented him with two twin little boys, when James was forced to leave
her, to go to sea for the herring-fishery; and, sad it is to tell what
followed! though such events are too common on these coasts. From the
cottage window, his boat was seen to founder; and the wife never beheld
her husband, nor the mother her son, until the tide threw up his corpse
within a few yards of his own door. His poor wife, in her weak state,
was unable to bear so severe a shock, and sank into a state of
stupefaction, which was soon succeeded by death. The neighbouring
townsmen contributed a sum to bury the poor young people: and many, who
were standing by at the funeral, and saw the sorrow of the aged Amy, and
thought of the hard trial which had befallen her, said it would have
been a mercy if the orphan little twins had been buried in the same
grave with their unfortunate parents! But Amy did not think so. "God
bless the poor babes!" she said; "they are all that is left me of my
good dutiful James: I will do my best to bring them up; and, if my life
be spared so long, I may see them prove a blessing and a comfort to me;
and, perhaps, they may lay my head in the same grave with my poor son!"
Amy did, indeed, strive to do her best to rear her poor little
grandsons. She was often seen with a baby on each arm coming into the
town to fetch the cow off the common; and then the good-hearted sailors,
who had known her son, would give her a white loaf for the babes, or a
piece of meat or cheese for herself. With these helps, and with the milk
from the cow and the vegetables from the garden, she contrived to get
through that trying year. "Before the winter comes again," she said to a
friendly old pilot who had called to see her, "my little boys will run
alone; and when these aged arms are relieved from their heavy burden, I
shall be able to work hard for their living."
Amy was firm in her resolution: and, by her good nursing, the little
orphans throve and grew nicely,--so that by the end of the next summer
they could run about, holding by each other, to assist their steps. They
were very good and quiet, and fond of each other, and gave much less
trouble than could have been expected.
Amy was now able to earn a little money by netting; and by the time the
children were three years old, James and Michael learned to fill her
netting needles with the twine she made the herring-nets of; and the
little creatures would stand by her the whole day, each watching until
his turn came to fill granny's needle. When they grew a little older,
they used to pick up stones on the beach, which were wanted in the town
for building. They carried them up the cliffs by little baskets-full at
a time, and laid them in a heap, and then the bricklayers gave for them
a halfpenny a bushel. And when the cold snowy winter nights came, they
learned to net, and helped their grandmother a great deal. By the time
they were twelve years old, the boys nearly earned their living. James
got something every week, by fetching his neighbours' cows off the
common: he was always up by five in the summer, and before light in the
winter, that he might not be too late. He soon got work at the Hall
farm, in the next parish; and though it was a long way to walk, night
and morning, he was always there in time, and contrived to do some work
for his grandmother in the hours he had for his meals. James took
delight in the quiet employments of the country; he greatly preferred
the husbandman's life to the unsettled condition of the fisherman or
sailor. Michael, on the contrary, loved the sea, and always tried, in
getting his daily bread, to remain, if possible, by the beach, as it was
his most ardent desire to be a sailor. It may be supposed this wish gave
pain to his poor grandmother, who never heard him express it without
thinking of the death of his father. To divert him from his inclination,
she did her best to teach him to read; but, though both he and his
brother were very apt, and could soon read a chapter in the Bible, yet,
even in that holy book, Michael contrived to find something to flatter
his passion for ships and sailors. By the time the boys had attained the
age of fourteen, James had learned so much of the duties of husbandry,
that his employer, as a reward for his diligence and industry, promised
to hire him for the following year at man's wages. Poor Michael was much
hurt that his brother would now be able to maintain his grandmother, and
give her those comforts that her age required, whilst he could merely
fish on the beach with lines for whiting or cod, or pick up stones for
the bricklayers; and that he could do when he was but seven years old.
He was so ashamed of his inferiority, that he made a resolution of going
to labourer's work with his brother, and was determined to give up his
favourite wish, to please his good grandmother; but an accident which
happened that winter altered his intention.
The day had closed-in some time, on the Christmas eve; and, though the
moon showed a bright light, yet the wind had risen as the night came on,
and soon blew a furious easterly gale directly on to this dangerous
coast. Amy had swept her cottage clean, and looked out some time for her
grandsons, when James trudged in with a billet of wood on his shoulder,
which he threw on the hearth. "I have staid later than usual, granny,"
he said, "to look after the horses of some gentry, who have just arrived
at the Hall to spend the Christmas holidays; but the good 'Squire has
sent you this nice piece of beef for your dinner to-morrow, and this
wood to warm your poor limbs this bitter weather."
"May heaven bless both you and your good master!" said the grateful Amy:
"and may both he and his ever have good cheer and warm fires, when the
cold and hard weather comes on! But, James, have you seen your brother?"
At that minute, Michael opened the door: he brought with him some fine
whiting on the lid of an old basket. "I have been lucky to-day,
grandmother," said he; "I have caught as many fish along-shore as I sold
in the town for seven groats. Here is the money; let it be put in the
earthen pot, with the rest that is to buy you a red cloak this cold
weather."
"Thank you, my dear Michael," said Amy: "how good and dutiful you both
are! The time was, when I thought that the Almighty had dealt hardly in
taking from the lone widow her only son,--but he has restored me that
blessing in a twofold degree; and if I could but see you take to quiet
farming-work like James--"
"Well," said Michael, "I will do my best to like it: though, I am
afraid, I shall never get over my wish to be a sailor. But look at these
fine fish! I might have sold them in town; but, I thought, as it was
Christmas-tide, that you should have them for supper."
Amy now began to bestir herself to dress the supper. She soon raised a
cheerful blaze; but just as she was putting on the fish, the loud report
of a gun at sea made her start and drop them. It seemed so close to the
cottage, that the concussion made everything rattle and ring around.