"We are prisoners!" exclaimed one of the officers; and the word, like
wildfire, ran along the deck, while several of the officers hurried up
to the captain to learn the truth. We all knew what we had to expect--a
French prison till the end of the war, even if we escaped being shot by
the Republicans. I never felt more cast down in all my life, and I
believe that was the case with everyone on board. To be caught like a
rat in a trap, without a chance of escape, seemed too bad. We were all
standing, not knowing what to do, some proposing one thing and some
another, expecting the French boats to come alongside and take
possession of our tidy little frigate, when a flaw of wind came down the
harbour. Scarcely had we felt it than our third lieutenant, Mr Webley,
exclaimed--
"I believe, sir, we shall be able to fetch out if we can get her under
sail."
"We will try it at all events, and Heaven grant we may," answered the
captain; "we will not give up our ship without doing our best to save
her. All hands to their stations! Send the Frenchmen below."
I never saw such a wonderful change as in a moment came over everybody
on board. The Frenchmen began to bluster and drew their sabres, but our
jollies quickly made them sheath them again, and they had to submit with
remarkably bad grace, hoping, I daresay, that we should again get on
shore. Officers and men flew to their stations, and in less than three
minutes we had the canvas on her, and the yards braced ready for
casting. The head sails filled.
"Cut the cable!" shouted the captain.
The ship quickly gathering way, began to glide down the harbour. Our
launch and cutter, and the Frenchmen's boat, were at once cut adrift, so
as not to impede us, while a favourable flaw of wind gave the ship
additional way. We had still, however, the heavy batteries to pass, and
it was not likely that they would allow us to go by without a warm
peppering; not that we thought much about that, for I know my heart
bounded as light as a cork, and so I am pretty sure did the hearts of
everyone on board at the thoughts that we were free.
Directly we began to loose our sails, the French brig opened her fire,
and we saw lights bursting out on all the batteries; while one, a little
on the starboard bow, was blazing away at us. As we glided on, the guns
of all the forts opened fire as they could be brought to bear. The wind
was very scant, and it seemed impossible that we could weather the point
without tacking, and, of course, while we were in stays, the enemy would
have taken steady aim; but again a favourable flaw of wind helped us.
As soon as the ship was well under command, the order was given to man
the guns, and we began returning the enemy's fire with good effect, as
far as we could judge. The Frenchmen's shot came flying through our
sails, considerably cutting up our rigging, and two thirty-six pound
shot struck our hull; but we repaired damages as fast as we could, and,
nothing daunted, stood on. Wonderful to relate, all the time not a man
had been hit; and if we felt happy when we first got the frigate under
way, we had reason to be doubly so when we found ourselves clear of the
harbour and not a ship following us. We should have had no objection to
it had a frigate of our own size come out, as to a certainty we should
have given her a sound drubbing, and finished by carrying her off as a
prize.