shall proceed at once to the sad catastrophe by which I was deprived of
my kind friend and benefactor, the captain, and of most of those with
whom I had passed so many happy days. We were lying at anchor in Table
Bay, one fine afternoon in November, the 4th of the month. The weather
was perfectly calm, but there was a heavy swell, and clouds had been for
some time gathering to the northward, and many of our weather-Solomons
predicted a storm. In the midshipmen's berth, however, there were no
croakers. It was the eve of the 'Gunpowder Plot,' and many a tale was
told of boyish pranks, and of the bonfires and fireworks of schoolboy
days. There was no care for the future, no anticipation of evil; all was
life, and thoughtlessness, and mirth. Alas! alas! how little did we
think what one day might bring forth! At daylight of the 5th, it was
blowing a heavy gale from the northward, a quarter from which there is
no shelter in Table Bay. The sea came tumbling in in long and heavy
surges, and the ship plunged deeply and violently. The hands were called
out at ten o'clock--'Down yards and masts!' The fore and main yards were
lowered, and the topmasts were struck, and the ship, relieved by the
removal of so much top weight, rode more easily. At noon, so little
apprehension was felt for the effects of the storm, that a salute was
fired in commemoration of the day. The gale gradually increased in
violence; and at half-past twelve, after a heavy pitch, the cry was
heard, 'The small bower has parted!'--'Let go the sheet!' was the order
in reply, followed by the heavy plunge of the anchor. Such a mountainous
sea was running at this time, that every soul on board seemed to
anticipate the fatal result that followed. The ship was pitching bows
under, shipping green seas over all--the sky was murky black--vivid
flashes of lightning burst from it almost incessantly--and the loud
rattling of the thunder, every now and then, was heard far above the
howling of the gale and the roaring of the sea. Every eye was fixed in
eager anxiety on the cables, which every now and then were buried in the
sea, and then, as the ship rose to the swell, were seen far ahead of
her, high above the surface of the water, stiff and rigid as bars of
iron.
"I know not how it happened, but, amid all the uproar around me,
surrounded by faces which spoke but too plainly fears for the result,
and conscious that our danger was imminent, I felt a kind of unnatural
buoyancy of spirits, a secret conviction that, whatever might happen, I
should escape unhurt. Telford stared at me, and muttered, 'The lad's
fey, as they used to say in the North.' At two o'clock, the best bower
cable parted, and the spare anchor was let go, but the cable went almost
immediately. Our danger was now most imminent; our sole dependence was
on our sheet cable; and it was evident to all on board that _that_ could
not long resist the heavy strain. Our ensign was now hoisted, union
downward, that well-known signal of extreme distress; and the mournful
booming of our guns seemed to our excited imaginations to be the knell
of our passing minutes. At seven o'clock, a cry was heard, which, like
an electric shock, was passed from one end of the ship to the other in a
moment, stunning the most daring spirits with its dreaded import. The
sheet cable had parted, and the ship was at the mercy of the wind and
sea. An order was now given for every man to provide for his own safety,
and a scene of the greatest confusion ensued. For about ten minutes, the
ship continued to drive before the wind, and then struck, with a
dreadful crash, upon a reef of rocks, broadside to the shore. The main
and mizzen masts were immediately cut away, and the foremast soon after
went by the board. To add to our horrors, the gun-room was discovered to
be on fire, and in a short time the smoke came eddying up from the
different hatchways in such volumes as to prevent any communication with
the lower deck. Feeble would have been the efforts of man in opposing
the devouring flame; but here, element was fighting against element, and
the sea claimed the mastery; the vast bodies of water which were
constantly dashing over the ship effected, in about ten minutes, what no
human exertion could have performed, and we were saved from a fiery, to
anticipate a watery death. The scene on board the wreck was now awful in
the extreme; every sea that broke over her swept away new victims; and
those who were left clinging to life with the energy of despair,
shuddered, as they missed their companions, in the anticipation of
their own approaching doom. Several of the crew, maddened by the horror
of a slow and lingering death, plunged desperately into the jaws of
their watery tomb, to put an end at once to their suspense; and others,
in a vain attempt to reach the shore, were carried out to sea by the
eddy, and perished miserably, crying in vain for help from their
helpless shipmates. About half-past nine, the poop was washed away, and
forming a large raft, afforded a flattering prospect of deliverance.
Seventy or eighty of the crew jumped overboard, and, by great exertion,
contrived to reach it. We who remained on board watched their motions
with intense anxiety, and, for the moment, forgot our own danger in the
contemplation of theirs. An involuntary shout burst from us, when we saw
them reaching the raft in safety, and borne onwards towards the shore;
but, alas! a heavy sea struck the floating wreck when only a short
distance from the beach, and, turning it over and over, engulfed all its
wretched occupants.
"'Poor fellows!' said Telford, who was clinging to the ring-bolts by my
side, 'their cruise is up! They've reached their anchorage, and we may
get our ground-tackle ready as soon as we like!'
"'Oh no!' replied I; 'while there's life there's hope, Telford. Keep up
your heart, man--we shall weather this bout yet.'
"'Heaven in its mercy grant that _you_ may, Mr Dalzell! but there is a
weight on _my_ heart, a dark feeling that my hour has come. I shall
never see the bonny banks of Tweed again--never, never! If you should
live, sir, to get back to Kelso, tell my good old father----'
"'Hold on for your life!' shouted I, as a giant sea came rushing and
roaring towards the wreck.
"It burst over us; and when, gasping and half-suffocated, I was able to
open my eyes, I looked round--my poor companion was gone. A dark body
was visible, for a moment, on the surface of the sea, some forty yards
distant, and that was the last I saw of my kind friend Telford. Soon
after this, the wreck gave a heavy lurch towards the shore, and then, as
the sea receded, rolled back again, and separated into three parts. I
caught hold of some part of the floating wreck, and, after being
repeatedly washed off, and recovering my station, I contrived to lash
myself securely to it, and then exhausted nature found relief in
insensibility. When I recovered, I found myself lying on the beach,
surrounded by the bodies of my unfortunate shipmates, and, raising
myself on my knees, I breathed a silent thanksgiving to Heaven for my
almost miraculous escape. Hearing a faint groan near me, I groped my way
towards the spot whence the sound proceeded--the night was very dark,
but a flash of lightning revealed to me the object of my search. It was
the body of a seaman stretched upon his back--the right arm extended on
the sand, and the left covering the face. At first I thought it was a
corpse that lay before me, so stiff, so cold, so motionless did it seem
to be; but, on putting my hand on the breast, I felt the pulsation of
the heart, and in a few moments low stifled moanings were heard, like
those of a person labouring under the influence of nightmare. I spoke to
the sleeper, but without receiving any answer; but, the muttering still
continuing, I shook him gently.
"'Holloa!' shouted he, as he started to his feet.
"What was my surprise and delight, when I recognised the voice of
Telford, whom I thought I had seen swallowed up by the waves.
"'Telford!' said I, 'is that you?'
"'Why, who else should it be?' replied he; 'eh, old boy, who else should
it be?'
"To my great surprise, I now perceived that my poor shipmate was
half-seas-over, as we call it.
"'Telford.' said I, 'do you not know me?'
"'Oh, Mr Dalzell! I ax your pardon; I didn't know it was you, seeing
that all cats are grey alike in the dark. I've had a reglar snooze; but
I hope I may never snooze again, if I'm to have such another dream.'
"'What have you been dreaming about?'
"'Why, sir, I dreamed I was a-drowning, and that I was going down, down,
down, when I heard your voice calling out, 'Come, Telford, I'm not an
admiral yet;' and with that you took me by the cuff of the neck, and
then I opened my eyes, and you had a hold o' me, sure enough. But
d--n--ax your pardon, sir,' said he, fumbling about; 'but it's enough to
make a parson swear.'
"'Why, what's the matter?'
"'Why, sir, I've lost my call;[15] no wonder my pipe's put out.'
[Footnote 15: Silver whistle, used by the boatswain and his mates.]
"'Is that all? You may thank Heaven you did not lose your life. You had
little hope of saving it when we last parted.'
"'Indeed! why, then, it can't have been a dream, after all. Blowed if I
don't think I'm a little crazy in my upper works; my head is all in a
whirl, and there's fifty thousand sparks dancing before my eyes. I say,
Mr Dalzell, what was that you said about losing life, and all that
gammon? Ax your pardon, sir--hopes no offence,' continued he, laying his
hand with drunken familiarity upon my shoulder. 'Holloa! why, you're as
wet as a half-wrung swab, and I'm not much better myself! What's the
meaning of that?'
"'Why, the meaning of it is, that we have both had a most providential
escape from drowning. You must be crazy, indeed, if you have already
forgot the sad events of the last few hours. When you were swept off the
wreck of the poor old Dareall, I little expected to see you again. I
could almost have sworn that I saw you go down.'
"'The wreck!--ay, I remember it all now! Providential escape, _indeed_.
Only think of a man, as my old father used to say, putting an enemy
into his mouth to steal away his brains! I had clean forgotten all about
it. Howsoever, I'll take my 'davy I was so full of water, that, afore I
knowed what I was about, I took rum enough in to make me a
_tumbler_--ha, ha!'
"'You seem to treat the matter very lightly, Telford; I see nothing
laughable in it.'
"'Why, Lord love your honour, when the grog's in, the wit's out, you
know, as the old song says.'
"'But where did you get the grog? You were sober enough, and sad enough,
goodness knows, when we parted; and how did you escape?'
"'Why, your honour, I rode ashore on the back of a breaker,[16] and, as
soon as I landed, I knocked my horse on the head, and found a drop of
capital rum inside, and, as I was devilish cold and wet, I made a little
too free with it mayhap.'
[Footnote 16: Breaker--a small cask.]
"'Well, well, it's fortunate it's no worse. Can you walk, do you think?
We had better make the best of our way to the town.'
"'Walk!--to be sure I can, your honour, though perhaps I may steer a
little wild or so; but, if you'll heave ahead, I'll follow in your wake,
and then you won't be so apt to notice me if I give a yaw now and then.'
"We soon fell in with a party of light dragoons, by whom we were most
kindly welcomed, and who assisted us in making our way to Cape Town. We
afterwards heard that these gallant fellows had greatly distinguished
themselves during that awful night by their humane daring; forcing their
horses into the surf, to rescue the struggling survivors of the crew,
many of whom would have perished but for their timely aid. In the town,
we met with several of our unfortunate shipmates, to whom and to
ourselves the inhabitants behaved with the greatest kindness and
attention. At daylight next morning, a mournful sight presented itself;
and we then ascertained the full extent of our sad loss. The whole line
of beach was thickly strewed with dead bodies, and fragments of the
wreck. There were only four officers and about fifty men saved--three of
the lieutenants, the purser, surgeon, and two midshipmen, were
fortunately on shore at the time of the accident; all the rest of the
officers, and about three hundred and fifty seamen, perished. Three
waggon-loads of corpses were taken to a place near the hospital, and
interred; and about one hundred bodies, dreadfully mangled, were buried
in one large pit on the beach, near where they were found. The body of
my kind friend, the captain, was never recovered, but those of the other
officers were interred, the Sunday following, with military honours. So
ended my unfortunate outset in the Dareall. The survivors of her crew
were drafted into other ships, and the officers were sent home by the
first opportunity. I afterwards joined the Sunbeam frigate, and in due
course of time got my promotion in her. As soon as she was paid off, I
hastened to Kelso, fondly hoping there to find the prize, the hopes of
obtaining which had for years cheered me onwards. You know how I have
been disappointed. And now, my kind friends, the story of my adventures
is ended."
"Oh," said I, "you have told us the _story_, but not the _whole_ story;
you have still an account to give of your cruise in the Sunbeam; do not
flatter yourself you are going to escape so easily."
"You must excuse me, my dear sir; I am not accustomed to act as my own
trumpeter; when Telford comes, he may take the office upon himself."
"What became of that poor fellow? He must be a rough diamond."
"Rough enough; but as good-hearted a fellow, and as fine a specimen of
his class, as ever lived. I wonder he has not been here before this
time, for I told him I meant to come here; and he said he would give you
'a hail' as he went past, to let you know I was coming. I suppose he has
'hove to,' as he would call it, by the way."
"But how does he know the place?"
"Oh, he knew the neighbourhood from my description of it immediately;
and, said he, 'if I make his number when I get there, some one will tell
me where he hangs out.'"
"Well, I shall be glad to see him whenever he comes. Anna, my love,"
said I to my wife, "Mr Dalzell will be ready, I daresay, to do justice
to your luncheon whenever it makes its appearance."
We were comfortably seated at the table, discussing our strawberries and
cream, when the sound of a loud shrill whistle thrilled through our
ears, followed by a rough hoarse voice, bellowing words which my wife
and I could not understand. We both started from our seats, and ran to
the window, which was open to admit the cool air, though the blind was
down to exclude the sun. Dalzell sat still, and burst out laughing. On
drawing up the blind, we saw a stout, dark-looking man, with an open and
cheerful countenance, dressed like a sailor. His little shining
tarpaulin hat was _flapped_ down upon the back of his head, and his long
black hair hung in curls about his forehead and ears. His left arm was
"absent without leave" from his empty sleeve, and in his right hand he
held the little silver pipe which had caused all the commotion.
"Ax your pardon, sir," said he, touching his hat, when he saw me; "I
made bold to call the hands out to muster, to see if one Leaftennan
Dalzell would answer to his name. Hopes no offence, sir."
"Ah, Telford, my fine fellow, how are you?" said Dalzell, peeping over
our shoulders.
"God bless your honour!" said he, respectfully raising his hat; "I'm as
pleased to hear the sound of your voice as if it were the pipe to grog."
"That's saying a great deal, Tom. Why, you sway about _now_ as if you
were a little top-heavy."
"Oh no, your honour; I've only been freshening the nip[17] once or
twice, and my bread-basket's a little empty."
[Footnote 17: Sailor's term for taking a dram.]
"Well, come in, Tom," said I, "and we'll try to fill it for you."
Tom was soon established in a comfortable berth in the kitchen, and did
ample justice to the good cheer which was placed in abundance before
him. As soon as he had good time to shake his cargo into its place, he
was summoned into the parlour. At first he demurred a little to change
his quarters, saying that he was more in his own place in the galley[18]
than in the cabin; but his reluctance was overcome when he saw spirits
and water precede him. When he came in, he stood in the doorway, making
sundry bobbing attempts at a bow, twirling his hat round and round, and
looking as bashful as a young maiden.
[Footnote 18: Kitchen.]
"Come in, Tom," said I. "Sit down, and tell us all your adventures."
Tom, however, was too polite a man, in his own way, to sit down in the
presence of his officer, till the lieutenant said--
"Come, come, Tom, bring yourself to an anchor at once."
Thus authorised, he plumped into a chair, and, putting his hat under it,
carefully deposited there a large quid of tobacco, which he dislodged
from its snug quarters in his left cheek.
"Now, Tom, carry on," said Mr Dalzell.
"Why, your honour," said Tom, slyly glancing at the table, "I'm in no
spirits for spinning a yarn just now."
I laughed, and filled a tumbler with whisky and water, to which Tom paid
his respects with evident satisfaction.
"Mr Dalzell has told us," said I, "of your escape from the wreck of the
Dareall--and a wonderful one it was."
"You _may_ say that," replied he; "I never had such a narrow squeak in
my life."
"But tell us something about yourself, and Mr Dalzell. I suppose you
have been in action together?"
"Action!--Lord love ye, sir, we were hardly ever out of it! If I were to
tell you all, I'd have nothing else to do for the next week. I always
said I'd live to see him an admiral, and I say so still; and if ever man
deserved a flag, there sits the man, for a braver officer and a better
seaman never trod a plank, though I says it as shouldn't say it, seeing
as how I first taught him to reef and steer."
"Come, come, Tom," interrupted Dalzell, "if you are going to spin such a
yarn as that, the sooner you cut it the better."
"Ax your honour's pardon, but I must speak. Didn't you save my life in
that 'ere action with the Flower-de-louce? Haven't you been the best
friend to me I ever had? Haven't you often saved me from the gangway
when I've dipped my whiskers too deep into the grog-kid? And can I sit
quiet with such a glass as this before me?" emptying the tumbler as he
spoke.
"Well, that's enough, Tom. If you're so fond of your grog, you had
better get on with your story as fast as you can, for not a drop more
shall you taste till you have finished."
"But, bless your heart, sir, how am I to begin? I'm like a marine adrift
on a grating, or an ass in a hay-field. I've got lots o' yarns to tell,
but I don't know which way to turn myself among them."
"Well," said Dalzell, "I'll go and take a walk, and leave you to your
own devices;" and he left the room.
"Now, your honour," said Tom, addressing me, "I'll tell you a famous
trick our captain sarved the Johnny Croppoes.[19] He was a dashing fellow
that, and never stuck at nuffen: a reglar fire-eater--'ud face the devil
himself. We was a-cruising off the coast of France, when the look-out
hails the deck--'A strange sail ahead!' Well, there was crack on
everything, below and aloft--clear ship for action--beat to quarters,
and all that; and we were soon near enough to see a snug,
business-looking craft, brig-rigged, standing to the westward under easy
sail. So we fired a gun to leeward, and hoisted English colours, and she
did the same, and hauled her wind to join us. When she came within hail,
we found she was an English privateer, and the captain of her said he
had something of consequence to tell our commander, and he was ordered
to come on board. Well, the news soon spread over the ship, that the
privateer had seen two French merchantmen at anchor under the guns of a
small battery; that he was not strong enough to cut them out himself,
and that he had hailed a king's ship the day before to tell her so, but
he was not believed.
[Footnote 19: Nautical for "Crapaud"--nickname for the French.]
"'Well,' says our captain, says he, 'I'll have a slap at them at all
events.'
"'I'll lead the way, sir, if you'll allow me.'
"'But'--and here they went into the cabin with the first luff; and,
after staying there for some time, out they comes, and the captain of
the privateer jumps into his boat, and shoves off.
"'You understand?' shouted the skipper to him.
"'Perfectly, sir.'
"Our captain looked as pleased as Punch, and we all saw there was
something in the wind. The privateer stood to the French coast under
easy sail, and we followed in her wake. Word was passed for volunteers
for a cutting-out job, and there wasn't a man o' the ship's company as
didn't come forward; but they couldn't all go--that was sartain; and
there was many a long face amongst those that were not chosen; but the
others, you'd a-thought they were going to a _hop_ at the point, they
were so pleased at the thoughts o' the fun. Well, when we'd got well in
sight o' the land, the privateer made all sail, and shaped a course
along the coast, and we cracked on in chase; but then we put a drag over
the bows to keep us astarn, and though we made a great show, we didn't
gain upon her. We all wondered at this strange move, but we wondered
still more when we saw French colours flying from our peak, and heard
the orders given to fire the bow-chasers, but to aim wide o' the mark.
We saw the shot drop into the water, first on the one quarter, then on
the other, of the privateer; but devil a one struck her; and she, with
her English colours flying, kept peppering away at us with her
starn-chasers; but her shot, like ours, all fell wide of the mark. By
this time we were well in with the shore, and could see two fine large
merchant ships lying at anchor close under the guns of a small battery
near the town, which lined the beach of a snug bay. The privateer
immediately hauled her wind off the coast, as if afeared o' the guns o'
the battery, and we did the same. We could see the beach crowded with
people hurrying to look at the running fight between the French frigate,
as they thought (she had been one once), and the English privateer.
Well, this game lasted for some time; lots o' smoke and noise, for we
yawed two or three times to give her a broadside, and to let her get
away from us, till at last we gave it up for a bad job, and bore up
under easy sail for the bay we had before seen. We stood in, clued all
up, and came to an anchor with a very short scope of cable, and brought
to, all ready for weighing again. The boats were lowered and manned, and
a few jollies[20] were stowed away in the starn-sheets out o' sight. The
beach was crowded with people anxious to hear the news; even the
swaddies,[21] except two or three sentries, deserted the battery, now
that all danger was past, as they thought. Well, the gig pulled towards
the shore, just to amuse the Frenchmen, while another boat pulled
directly to the battery, and, in quarter less no time, the sentries were
knocked down, and the guns were tumbled off their carriages--there were
lots o' crowbars and handspikes in the boat. Meantime, two other boats
boarded the merchantmen, and afore you could say Jack Robinson, their
crews, never dreaming of the English, were secured, their cables cut,
and the boats towing them out, without a single shot being fired, or a
man hurt. By this time the topsails were at the masthead aboard the
frigate, and the anchor weighed, and she stood quietly out of the bay,
and hove to. The French ensign was then hauled down, and with three
roaring cheers from our ship's company, the red flag of Old England was
run up in its stead. In a short time crews were put on board the prizes,
the boats were hoisted in, and we shaped our course for the Channel.
What do you think o' that now, sir, for a clever move?"
[Footnote 20: Marines.]
[Footnote 21: Soldiers.]
"Capital, capital! I never heard a better. But what part of the play did
Mr Dalzell and you act?"
"Oh, I says nuthen. I knows who was the first officer to mount the
battery, and who was the man as trod upon his heels; but that is neither
here nor there. Kelso for ever! says I. I says nuthen."
I could not help laughing at Tom's expressive "nuthens."
"Kelso for ever, indeed!" said I. "Then the two Kelso men were foremost,
eh?"
"It's of no use denying it, sir, or making a secret of what's no secret
at all. I believe that job was the 'casion of Mr Dalzell's having a swab
tacked to his shoulder."
"A swab!--what's a swab?"
"It's what you long-shore gemmen calls an appleeat,[22] I believe, sir;
a bunch o' gold yarns a leaftennan wears on his shoulder."
[Footnote 22: Epaulette.]
"Oh, ay! I understand."
"Oh, how pleased he was when he got his commission some time after; and
pleased was I to see his happy face, for I knowed he was a-thinking of
the bonny lass he left behind him at Kelso. I hope he'll soon take her
in tow now for life."
Great was the sorrow the good-hearted fellow expressed, when I told him
of Dalzell's disappointment. He swore he would find Grace Douglas, if
she were above ground; and that he would leave no means untried, as long
as he had health and strength to persevere.
"Well, but how did you lose your arm, Tom?"