RHODE ISLAND.--SENT TO ASSIST SYREN AND TRANSPORT.--FRIGATE BLOWS UP.--
TAKE A PRIZE.--GRAMPUS IN CHARGE.--TENDER ON HER BEAM ENDS.--JOIN SIR
PETER PARKER ON BOARD BRISTOL.--MY OLD MESSMATES.--APPOINTED AS
LIEUTENANT TO THE CHAMELEON AND THEN TO THE CAMEL.--SAIL FOR GULF OF
FLORIDA.--FEVER.--WAR WITH FRANCE.--ONCE MORE AT JAMAICA.
I gave the land a wide berth, thereby getting fine weather, and with a
fair breeze had a quick run for Rhode Island. I brought up close to the
flag-ship, and hurried on board to make a report of such of my
proceedings as I thought it incumbent on me to inform the admiral about.
He was pleased to approve of all I had done, but when I mentioned the
ladies, he looked hard at me as if he had read my secret.
"You'll not wish to be idle, I know. Give your vessel a refit, and I
shall have work for you before long," said he with, I thought, a
significant look.
I accordingly ran into harbour, hove the tender down, and in three days
was ready for sea, when I received orders to accompany his Majesty's
ships Flora, Lark and Lady Parker tender to the assistance of the Syren
frigate, which with a transport had run on shore at Point Judith, the
people being made prisoners by the rebels.
At ten o'clock at night we, with the two frigates, dropped anchor about
two miles off shore, having the wrecked ships just inside of us. We
were not long allowed to remain in quietness before we were discovered
by the enemy, who commenced a hot fire on us from three
eighteen-pounders. As it was important not to allow the enemy to
increase their force, four of our boats were instantly manned ready to
proceed to the attack. The first lieutenant of the Chatham was sent in
command of them, and each officer was furnished with a supply of
combustibles, with directions to heave them on board the ships, so as to
blow them up without delay. The first lieutenant of the Flora had
charge of the second boat, the second of the Lark the third, and I
commanded the fourth. We were all ready by eleven o'clock, when we
pulled away towards the Syren. There was no use to attempt concealment,
for we were conscious that our motions were narrowly watched; and this
was proved when we approached the shore, for we were welcomed with a
very warm salute of big guns and small-arms, the musket-balls and
round-shot rattling round us in a far from pleasant manner. To add to
the difficulties to be encountered, a heavy sea was running, which
washed up alongside the stranded frigate, and created a considerable
risk of causing the boats to be stove in.
"Pull away, my hearties, pull away!" sang out our gallant commanding
officer. "We'll make a short business of the work in hand when we once
get alongside."
He was as good as his word. In spite of the iron and leaden shower
which rattled around us, we dashed on. The masts had gone by the board,
but had been secured, and by this means a stage had been formed leading
from the ship to the shore. Along this stage the enemy, till we drew
near, were busily engaged in carrying off the stores and provisions out
of the ship. When they saw us coming they gave up the work and poured
instead a number of armed men on board. The bowmen stood ready,
boat-hooks in hand, to hook on as the sea sent us surging alongside.
When our boats rose to the top of the waves we tumbled in on deck
through the ports, with our cutlasses in our teeth and all sorts of
combustibles under our arms. The enemy did not like our looks, and as
retreat was open to them they could not resist the temptation of taking
advantage of it; so when we appeared through some of the headmost ports,
they retired over the stern. To set fire to our grenades and other
fiery engines of destruction, and to heave them down below and to
scatter them fore and aft, was the work of little more than a minute.
The enemy scarcely understood what we were about, or they would have
tried to interrupt our proceedings. The effect of our combustibles was
very rapid. A number of inflammable things were scattered about; they
at once caught fire, and thick wreaths of smoke, followed by fierce
flames, darted upwards on every side.
"To the boats! to the boats!" sang out our commander.
It was time indeed to be into them, for the fiery element was already
surrounding many of the guns, which, being shotted, were going off as
the touch-holes became heated. Almost enveloped in wreaths of smoke and
fiercely crackling flames, we rushed to the ports, aware that any moment
the ship might blow up and carry us high into the air. Explosion after
explosion followed each other in rapid succession, giving us warning of
what might occur. Our gallant leader got dreadfully burned. I saw him
just as he was about to fall, I feared, into the flames. I grasped his
arm, and together we leaped into the first boat we saw alongside.
"All hands quit the ship!" he shouted, before he would allow the boat to
shove off.
No one, we were assured, was left behind. It was time to be free of
her. Glad enough we were to pull away, and we soon had the satisfaction
of seeing the other three boats free of the ship and pulling out to sea.
Several of the crew of the boat had once belonged to the Syren.
"There goes the old girl. She deserved a better fate," they exclaimed,
as they watched the conflagration. "She keeps up her spirits to the
last, though," they added, as her guns were discharged one after the
other in rapid succession--some of them doing, I suspect, some damage on
shore, towards which their muzzles were pointed. We were saved the
trouble of destroying the transport, for by some means or other she had
caught fire, and before the enemy could get on board to put it out or to
save any of her stores, she had burnt to the water's edge. The enemy
kept popping away at us while we pulled off from the shore, for the
light of the burning frigate falling on the boats' sides made us
tolerably conspicuous targets. However, we kept the ship as much as
possible between us and the rebels, and as they were likewise not
particularly good shots, we escaped with a very trifling amount of
damage. Indeed, I should, before I had had experience in the matter,
have believed it scarcely possible that so much powder and shot could
have been expended with so small a result. One man got a flesh-wound in
the right arm, and another had his head grazed, while the boats were
struck not more than half-a-dozen times in all. Suddenly the firing
ceased. There was a perfect silence. Then the flames from the frigate
seemed to burn brighter than ever, and it appeared as if the whole
blazing mass was lifted bodily up into the air like a huge sky-rocket.
Fragments of masts and spars and planks darted above the rest, and then,
scattering around, very quickly again came hissing down into the water.
A deep groan escaped the bosoms of many of our men. There was no
cheering--no sound of exultation. An old friend had been destroyed;
they mourned for her, though they themselves had assisted in her
destruction. War, and what war produces, is at the best very horrid
work. I cannot, even now, think over all the havoc and destruction we,
as was our duty, were the means of producing, without feelings of regret
and shame.
It was nearly midnight when I got back to my craft. The signal was soon
afterwards made to weigh anchor, when we made sail towards the mouth of
the harbour. There had been a stiffish breeze all the time we had been
engaged in the destruction of the Syren, but it had not come on to blow
very hard, and the night was extremely dark. The schooner's head was
off shore, and, overcome with fatigue, I had just thrown myself on a
locker, with my clothes on, to snatch a few moments' sleep, when Tom
Rockets roused me up with the information that a strange sail was
crossing our bows. I instantly sprang on deck, and, catching sight of
the stranger, put up the helm in chase. Away we flew through the
hissing, heaving seas after her, shrouded in a mass of foam. I asked
Grampus what he thought her.
"A schooner, sir. When I first saw her there was no doubt of it," was
his answer. "An enemy's coaster."
Just as he spoke, a gleam of light breaking through the clouds showed us
the chase right ahead. She had now very little chance of escaping from
us. We were coming up with her hand-over-hand. As we drew near I fired
one of our bow-chasers. Still she held on, so I fired another, and this
time with some effect, for she at once put down her helm and hauled her
foresail to windward. The tender had a jolly-boat belonging to her. I
jumped into it with Tom Rockets and another hand, and soon stood in
safety on the deck of the prize. She had, I saw, a number of hands on
board, and I felt somewhat surprised that they did not bundle me and my
two hands into the boat, and tell us to go back whence we had come. She
was, however, only a quiet honest trader, so her master affirmed, from
Bedford, bound to Connecticut with fish and oil. On counting her
people, I found that she mustered sixteen in all--stout, fierce-looking
fellows. Some two or three of them said they were landsmen, and one
hailed as a Quaker and a non-combatant, but I did not like the looks of
any of them. I sent Rockets to the helm, and told him to keep the prize
under the lee of the tender. I found that the schooner had a large boat
on board. I accordingly ordered the crew to lower her into the water.
"Now, my lads," said I, "tumble into her yourselves, and make the best
of your way to the shore. It is a dark night, and not very pleasant
weather, I own, but it is either that or a prison, you know."
Before I had done speaking the rebels had begun to launch the boat, too
glad of the opportunity of getting on shore to consider the danger they
must run in reaching it. The Quaker, however, did not appear at all to
relish the trip, and protested vehemently against being thus
unceremoniously sent adrift. He protested that he was as quiet as a
lamb, and, that he would obey my orders as strictly as if he had taken
the oath of allegiance to King George. I told him that might be, but
that "necessity has no law greater than itself." Then he assured me
that he was a non-combatant; that to fight was against his principles,
and that he would not dream of lifting a finger against any man.
"I dare say not, friend," I answered, "but you wouldn't mind boring a
hole in a ship's bottom and letting her go down, or setting fire to her,
and letting her blow up with all hands on board, provided you could make
your escape unhurt, eh?"
I saw that I had by chance hit the right nail on the head, and that he
had, some time or other, done the very thing I suggested. He said
nothing further. Still he evidently did not like being turned adrift in
the boat. I, however, was inexorable. The enemy had so frequently
retaken vessels which had been captured from them, that I was, I own,
afraid to trust any of the prisoners I had just made. I accordingly
bundled the Quaker in with the rest. I must own that I acted a harsh
part. It turned out a terrible night. It was blowing very fresh, and
there was a heavy sea running, while it was more than usually dark. I
scarcely reflected at the time on the dreadful risk to which I was
exposing the poor fellows. In vain I afterwards endeavoured to discover
what became of them. They might have reached the shore in safety, or
been picked up by some friendly vessel; but they might have been run
down, or their boat might have been swamped, and they all might have
perished miserably. I pray they might have escaped. If not, their
deaths were at my door.
As soon as the prisoners had shoved off, I sent the boat back to the
tender, and Grampus and two men returned in her.
"Grampus," said I, "I put you in charge of this craft. I hope that it
is not the last of which you will get command."
He pulled the front lock of his hair when I made him this speech, and
looked round with a glance which showed that he did not over highly
appreciate the honour.
"I'll try to get her into harbour, sir, at all events," he answered, as
I stepped into the boat, and not without difficulty returned to the
tender, when, with my prize, I again made sail for Rhode Island. An
hour afterwards I captured a whale-boat, from Connecticut to Bedford,
with four hogs-heads of salt. As I could spare no people to man her,
after making the prisoners come on board, I took her in tow. I was in
hopes of carrying her into harbour, but it soon came on to blow harder
than ever, and before long I had the dissatisfaction to find that I had
towed the prize under water, and, to avoid any mishap to ourselves, I
had quickly to cut her adrift. When the morning broke, so heavy a gale
was blowing that, being unable to reach Rhode Island, I bore away for
the Seaconnet Passage, making a signal to my prize to do the same. We
reached it not without difficulty. I was well content to drop my anchor
not far from his Majesty's ship Kingfisher, which I found lying there.
Grampus came in soon after, and brought up near me. I asked him if he
was sure that his ground tackle was good. He answered, "Pretty well,"
but he wished that it were better. An officer from the Kingfisher soon
after came on board, and advised us to look to our cables, for it was
coming on to blow harder than ever. The caution was not needed. I had
done all I could to secure the tender, and she seemed well able to ride
out the gale. The prize, however, I saw was labouring heavily. I
watched her anxiously, both on my own account and that of Grampus and
the men with him.
At noon, just as I was leaving the deck, I heard an exclamation from
Rockets, which made me pop my head pretty rapidly up the
companion-hatch, and, looking to leeward, I saw my prize, amid a mass of
foam, driving away at headlong speed towards the enemy's shore. To help
her was impossible. I was more sorry at the thought of losing Grampus
than of anything else. Even should he and his companions escape with
their lives, they would, at all events, be made prisoners by the enemy,
and I might chance never to meet my old follower again. First one cable
parted, then another. Grampus made sail as quickly as he could, but he
could only show a very small amount of canvas with the gale there was
then blowing. I watched the schooner anxiously through my glass. Tom
Rockets stood by my side, as eager about her as I was. On she drove.
She appeared to be almost among the breakers.
"She's lost, sir, she's lost!" exclaimed Tom.
"No, no," said I, taking another glance. "Grampus is handling her like
a good seaman, as he is. She keeps her luff, and is shooting out again
into clear water. Hurrah! Well done, Grampus! She stands up to her
canvas bravely. She is making for Fogland Ferry. If she carries
nothing away she will reach it too."
Such were the exclamations to which I gave utterance as I watched the
progress of the prize. More than once she appeared to be nearing the
land, and I thought that I could make out people following her course,
ready to take possession of her should she drift on shore. Then, again,
she stood off clear of danger, and at length disappeared in the
distance. By daylight next morning, the weather having moderated, I
once more made sail in quest of my prize, and as I drew near the wharf
at Fogland Ferry, to my great satisfaction, I found her safely moored
alongside of it. We remained here some days, till at last, the weather
becoming finer, on the 27th of November I sailed with my prize for
Newport. I was very anxious to carry her there in safety. I had gained
her not without danger and difficulty, and she afforded a substantial
evidence that I had not been idle during my cruise. Scarcely was I
clear of the land when I made out a large whale-boat, which I chased for
three hours and ultimately took. She had on board a cargo of beef,
pork, cheese, and tallow. However, it came on to blow harder than ever,
so, much against my will, I had to heave a cold shot into her, which
sent her to the bottom, and once more I was compelled to run for the
Seaconnet Passage.
Next day, that is, on the 28th, I once more put to sea, but in a short
time it came on to blow harder than ever. Still, in my anxiety to reach
my destination, I did not like to put back, and kept hammering away in
the hopes of making good my passage. Feeling that I must take ten
minutes of sleep, I went below, but scarcely had I thrown myself on a
locker when I was hove off it. I sprang on deck, and found that a
squall had thrown the vessel on her beam-ends. I sang out an order to
cut away topsail halyards, sheets, main and fore ties, peak halyards.
It was done, not without difficulty. Still she would not right. I put
the helm up. She answered it, and away we floundered, almost
water-logged, to our former place of anchorage in the Seaconnet Passage.
On the 29th, getting all things to rights again, I once more sailed; and
this time, in spite of the gale, and not without difficulty, I reached
Newport with my prize. I got some credit for my proceedings, and I felt
that I was amply rewarded by the way the admiral spoke to me.
"I have my eye on you, Mr Hurry, and it is, I feel, my duty to mark out
merit for reward," he observed, with a pleasant smile, one day when he
had invited me to dine with him.
I got three or four days' rest, and, on the 3rd, sailed once more on a
cruise.
I had not been out many days when a tremendous gale sprang up which
compelled me to lay-to. During this time the little vessel shipped
several heavy seas, which I more than once thought would send her to the
bottom. At last one heavier than its predecessors came rolling and
roaring towards us.
"Hold on, my lads!" I sang out.
There was nothing else to be done. It struck the vessel.
"She is sinking! she is sinking!" cried out several of the people, as
the sea washed over us.
She rose again; but our enemy had left us in a pretty state of wreck and
confusion. The caboose was gone, and so was everything on deck not
thoroughly secured. The water, too, in torrents was rushing down below.
Still our masts stood, and not a rope was carried away. I immediately
ordered the pumps to be rigged, and had to keep all hands spell and
spell at work at them. The gale, which had been blowing from the
north-east, now shifted to the north-west as hard as ever. I had no
choice but to remain hove-to, and to work away at the pumps to keep the
vessel afloat. Our caboose being gone, and as we had no stove below, we
were unable to light a fire to cook anything. We were all, therefore,
compelled to live on raw meat. The crew didn't seem to think this
anything of a hardship; indeed, seamen, when not hard pressed, will
often, to save themselves the trouble of cooking, or because they prefer
it, eat it in that state.
I have had many a hard time at sea, but that was as hard as any as long
as it lasted. As soon as I could venture to make sail, I shaped a
course for Rhode Island, and, getting a better land-fall than I
expected, I reached it on the 12th of December. When I went to report
myself to Sir Peter, he received me very kindly.
"You have had a pretty rough time of it, Mr Hurry," he remarked.
"Yes, sir," I replied, and I told him how the tender had been knocked
about, and what a hard time we all had had of it; but I made no
complaint, and finished by saying that I was ready to go again to sea in
her as soon as she had undergone the necessary repairs.
"No, no, my lad," he answered. "I like your spirit; but she and you
have had enough of it just now. You shall lay her up for the winter,
and probably before the spring we may have other work carved out for
you."
I was very glad to hear this, and very speedily got the tender
dismantled and laid up. The admiral, of course, knew more than I did as
to what was going forward, and I guessed that none of us should have
long to remain idle.
On the 20th of December, 1778, the Bristol, Raisonable, Nonsuch,
Somerset, and a fleet of transports arrived from the Delaware River; and
on the 27th Sir Peter Parker shifted his flag to the Bristol, taking
with him the officers of the Chatham and a hundred seamen. Sir Peter
Parker was now only waiting the arrival of Lord Howe, to proceed to the
West Indies to take the command there. I looked forward to the time
with great satisfaction, for I had no doubt that the admiral would give
me every opportunity in his power of winning the step I so much coveted.
Two or three days after I joined, Delisle and another old shipmate,
O'Brien, made their appearance on board the Bristol, to which I found
that they had been appointed. It was a pleasure to us all; for latterly
I had been so constantly on detached duty that we had seen but little of
each other. We were, I may truly say, like brothers, regarding each
other with the most sincere and truest affection. I doubt if any
friendship is greater than that of people thus situated. We anticipated
all sorts of fun in the West Indies; for those were the palmy days of
the islands, when the planters, or rather their managers and the
merchants residing there, lived like princes, and treated all visitors
with unbounded hospitality. It was in too many instances with them a
short life and a merry one. Delisle had been there for a short time,
and so had several of our other shipmates, and the accounts they gave
were quite sufficient to make us long to go there.
On the 4th of January Lord Howe arrived at Rhode Island, and on the 15th
we sailed thence for our destination. One thing only made me regret
leaving the American shores; the certainty that I should have no further
chance of again meeting Madeline Carlyon till the war was ended, and I
might obtain leave to go on shore to visit her no longer as the
professed enemy of her countrymen, but, as I trusted, an accepted suitor
and a friend of America and the Americans. Though I may not be
constantly mentioning her, it must not be supposed that she was ever out
of my thoughts. All my hopes and wishes for the future were wrapped up
in her; and often and often I had to struggle hard against the wish of
quitting the service, and of seeking her out without delay. Of course I
very quickly saw the folly, not to say hopelessness, of such a
proceeding. I had nothing but my profession to depend on; and if I were
to desert that profession, how was I to support a wife and as to joining
the ranks of the enemy and fighting against my countrymen, that, even in
my maddest moods, never entered my imagination. However, I will not now
dwell further on the matter.
The first island we made was Antigua, where we arrived, without meeting
with any adventure worthy of note, on the 5th of February. We found
there HMS Aurora, with Vice-Admiral Young's flag on board. We sailed
again the next day with two transports under our convoy, and arrived at
Port Royal in Jamaica on the 15th. Here Sir Peter Parker superseded
Vice-Admiral Gayton as Commander-in-Chief. On the 18th we went
alongside the wharf at Kingston, and hove down to repair and clean the
ship's bottom. We had now many opportunities of seeing this, one of the
most beautiful and picturesque of the West India islands, as well as of
engaging in the gaieties of the place. With regard to the scenery,
others have often described it far better than I can pretend to do,
while the thought of Madeline kept me from entering into the somewhat
extravagant gaieties which were of daily occurrence. The repairs of the
ship took us till the 20th of March, when we hauled out into the
harbour.
A short time after this, two ships came into port direct from England,
the Ostrich and Active. Each of them had left a lieutenant behind them;
and Sir Peter appointed two of ours to fill up the vacancies, and in
their steads my friends Delisle and O'Brien obtained their commissions.
I was beginning to feel somewhat jealous of them, when the Chameleon
came in. Several of her officers had been disabled, having been blown
up in a prize she had taken, and were now gone to the hospital. Among
them was Lieutenant David Mackey, in whose room the admiral gave me an
acting order.
I was sorry to part with my old shipmates, still it was with great
satisfaction that I found myself raised to the rank I had longed to
obtain, as I had no doubt that I should soon be confirmed in it. My
duty in the ship was, however, both disagreeable and severe. In those
days, when the schoolmaster had made but little progress, in the Navy
especially, and not much on shore, it was difficult to obtain good and
steady warrant officers, and I was especially troubled with a drunken
boatswain, gunner, and carpenter. Drunk or sober, they were constantly
insubordinate, setting a bad example to the crew, and quarrelling with
each other. I determined, however, to master them, and compel them to
do their duty, or get them dismissed from the service. As I was the
only officer in the ship directly over them, my task was not an easy
one.
Having run the ship over to water at Rockfort, I found, on my return to
Port Royal, that the admiral shifted his flag from the Bristol to the
Chameleon. He had just been promoted from Rear of the Blue to Rear of
the Red.
My troubles and annoyances with my subordinates continued to increase.
Scarcely a day passed but what they were guilty of some neglect of duty,
which more than once placed the ship in a dangerous position. I was
continually afraid that the gunner, by some carelessness in the
magazine, would blow her and all on board up into the air. I have no
doubt that most of the catastrophes of that nature, which have from time
to time occurred, have been caused by the conduct of which he was
guilty. Fortunately for me, I was thoroughly supported in my duty by
Captain Douglas of the Chameleon, who was in every respect the officer
and the gentleman, and I am much indebted to him for many kind and
favourable remarks he made respecting me to the admiral. When a man is
endeavouring to do his duty, it is pleasant to be spoken of as an
active, zealous, intelligent officer, as I know he did of me. The
misconduct of the gunner grew more and more unbearable, and at length I
was compelled to bring him, as also the boatswain and carpenter, to a
court-martial. The result was that the former was broke, and rendered
incapable of again serving his Majesty; while the other two, who did not
deserve a less punishment, were severely reprimanded. They would have
been broke likewise but for the difficulty which then existed of finding
intelligent and educated men to fill the posts they occupied.
The Camel, Captain Bligh, having come into harbour with one of her
lieutenants sick, I was appointed to her as acting-lieutenant, her
captain having done me the favour of applying for me to the admiral. We
left the harbour on the 10th of June, and anchored next day in
Bluefield's Bay, where we found lying HMS Hind, Southampton, and Stork,
with a hundred sail of merchantmen.
On the 25th we proceeded with them to the Gulf of Florida. The weather
was intensely hot, the sun struck down with unmitigated fury on our
heads, and in a few days seven cases of fever appeared on board.
Scarcely was a man taken ill than he became delirious, and in a few
hours he was dead. Thus in six days we lost twenty seamen and seven
marines, together with Lieutenant Thomas Philipsmith of the marines, and
Mr John Eaglestone, master's mate. It was a sad and weary time we had
of it. Captain Bligh kept up his spirits in a wonderful way. I messed
with him all the time I was on board, and he always spoke frankly and
openly to me; indeed, I should be most ungrateful did I not acknowledge
the kindness with which he treated me on all occasions.
"I hope we may do better when we get clear of the land," he remarked.
"This climate tries the poor fellows sadly."
It did indeed. On the 28th the master, purser and surgeon were taken
ill, and a few days afterwards I was myself struck down, as were the
gunner, surgeon's mate, and fully sixty more men. Thus, we had not
enough men to work the ship; and for some time Captain Bligh and one of
the only officers capable of doing duty had to take charge of the ship
watch and watch. The weather also was constantly squally, with thunder,
lightning, and heavy rain, and this kept us in the gulf till the 20th of
July.
On the 28th, in latitude 32 degrees 30 minutes North and 74 degrees 19
minutes West, we parted company with the fleet, which was bound for
England, while we made sail back to Jamaica.
I pass over this period of my adventurous existence more rapidly than I
have described the former part of my sea-life, because it is full of
painful recollections. I had often and often seen men struck down in
battle, without allowing my feelings in any way to be agitated; but it
went to my heart to see my brave shipmates carried off one after the
other with fever, without being in any way able to relieve their
sufferings, or to devise means to save them from death. That fever,
"yellow jack" as we used to call it, is truly one of the most dreadful
scourges of the West Indies. There is no avoiding him. All ranks are
equally sufferers, for he picks off rich and poor alike, the strong and
weak, the brave man and the coward. Still, I believe that the best way
to prevent his attacks from proving fatal is to live moderately but
well--not to be afraid, and to avoid exposure to rain and fogs. It is
wiser to soak the clothes in salt water than to allow them to be wet
with fresh and to dry on the back. However, it is very certain that, if
a man does not play tricks with his constitution when he is young, as do
so many young fellows in every variety of way when he is exposed to
similar baneful influences, he will better be able to withstand them.
On the 17th of August we made the Island of Hispaniola. Two days after
that, as I was walking the deck as officer of the watch, the look-out at
the mast-head hailed to say that a sail was in sight. We were then off
Cape Francois.
"Where away?" I asked.
"Right ahead to the westward!" was the answer.
"What does she look like?" inquired the captain, just then coming on
deck.
"An English frigate, sir!" replied the look-out.
She might be, or she might be an enemy's cruiser, for I was aware that
they had already some large ships fitted out. We were, as far as I knew
to the contrary, still at peace with France and Spain. Weak as I was
from the fever, (though I had got over it far more rapidly than I could
have expected), I was so anxious to ascertain, as soon as possible, the
character of the ship in sight, that I went aloft myself to watch her
with my glass. As we drew near each other, Captain Bligh ordered the
drum to beat to quarters, and the ship to be got ready for action. The
nearer we got, the more convinced was I that the look-out was right, and
that the stranger was an English frigate. In a short time she hoisted
English colours, and soon afterwards made the private signal, by which
we knew that she was his Majesty's frigate Minerva. On getting within
hail we hove-to and exchanged civilities, which, as they cost nothing,
are very current coin. We found that she had been out on a cruise for
some time, but, like us, had not made any captures. Her captain was
deploring his ill-luck.
"Better than being taken oneself," remarked Captain Bligh.
"No fear of that," was the answer; "I shall take very good care that no
one--Frenchman, Spaniard or rebel--captures me. As for the two first, I
don't suppose they will ever go to war again with us."
"Don't be too sure of that," said Captain Bligh. "A pleasant cruise to
you, however, and a more fortunate one than we have had. We are bound
back to Jamaica. I hope we shall make a quick passage there."
Such, as far as I can recollect them, were the parting words of the two
captains. Scarcely had we lost sight of the Minerva than we fell in
with a fleet of merchantmen from Saint Domingo. We agreed that, if
there was but a war, what rich prizes they would prove, and we should,
without difficulty, have been able to take the greater number of them.
They sailed on their way, and we continued on our course for Jamaica.
We reached Port Royal without any further adventure on the 28th of
August. Scarcely had we dropped anchor than a boat from his Majesty's
ship Niger boarded us.
"Grand news--glorious news!" cried a midshipman who came in her. We all
asked him what he meant. "Why, there's war with France, and a rattling
war it will be, too, from all accounts. All the ships here are getting
ready for sea, and we shall pick up no end of prizes."
Captain Bligh stamped with his foot and turned round when he heard this.
And well he might, when he recollected the rich prizes we had let slip
through our fingers. A vessel came in directly after us, which brought
the unwelcome intelligence that the Minerva had been taken by the French
frigate Concord only nine hours after we had spoken her. Had we,
therefore, only come up a little later, the tables might have been
reversed, and we might have brought in the Concord as our prize. The
Minerva was, as may be supposed, taken by surprise, her captain not
believing that a war had broken out with France, or I am very sure that
she would not have so easily become the prize of the enemy.
The circumstances I have mentioned were of course vexatious, but such is
the fortune of war, and I believe the knowledge that we had now a
foreign nation to contend with, instead of those whom we could not but
look upon as countrymen, afforded unmitigated satisfaction throughout
every ship in the British Navy.