The chief anxiety of Captain Courtney when he ascertained that the
approaching ship was an enemy, was to secure the escape of the prize.
She would indeed have been of very little use to the "Thisbe" in
repelling an attack, as the French frigate from having all her canvas
would have been able to manoeuvre so as to engage each of them singly.
"There she goes, and I'll engage Tom Calder's heart is heavier than any
one's aboard here at having to run away!" exclaimed Captain
Courtney--"Good luck go with him. We'll try and keep the enemy engaged,
and wing him, if we can. You'll do your best, I know, my lads."
A cheerful shout was the answer to this appeal, the last part of which
was addressed to the crew.
The men were now seen fastening their handkerchiefs round their heads,
tightening their waistbands, most of them having thrown off their
jackets and shirts, standing at their guns with their brawny arms and
shoulders bare, like pictures of Hercules prepared for battle; not a
countenance that did not exhibit a cheerful alacrity for the battle.
As the captain took a walk round the decks, he felt assured that what
men could do they would to maintain the honour of old England's flag.
Many bore marks of their recent combat, and several still pale from loss
of blood, had insisted on rising from their hammocks and going to their
guns. Among them stood the boatswain, Rolf Morton; the captain shook
his head at him.
"What! you could not trust us to fight the ship without you, Mr
Morton?" he said, in a kind tone of reproof. "I must let you stay now
you are on deck, but I would rather you were snug in your berth."
"While I've breath for my pipe, and legs to stand on, I'd rather be
here, Captain Courtney, thank you, sir," answered Rolf. "I would lose
an arm rather than let our prize be retaken."
"So would I, Mr Morton, and we will do our best to help her escape,"
said the captain, and he passed on.
With like kind words of encouragement both to officers and men, the
captain passed along the guns; not a man of the crew who would not have
dropped at their quarters, or gone down with the ship, rather than yield
as long as their brave chief bade them fight on.
By the time Captain Courtney regained his post on the quarter-deck, the
enemy had got within gun-shot, and commenced firing with her longer
pieces at the "Thisbe," but the shot fell wide.
"The enemy's gunners want practice," observed the captain to the third
lieutenant, who was doing duty as first, though he himself was severely
wounded. "We'll reserve our fire till they get a little nearer, and
then give it them with a will. They probably expect that we shall haul
down our colours after we have satisfied the calls of honour with a few
shots."
"They don't know of whom they have got hold then," answered Mr Trenane,
the lieutenant. "In a light wind they might have had too much the
advantage of us, but with this breeze, the loss of our masts will matter
less, I hope."
The enemy was now coming up rapidly on the "Thisbe's" quarter. A shot
from her bow chasers whistled through the latter's rigging; several
others followed as the guns could be brought to bear.
On she came.
The "Thisbe" had not fired.
"Down with the helm and give it them, my lads!" suddenly shouted the
captain.
The English frigate luffed up, and poured her whole broadside into the
bows of the approaching enemy. The Frenchman put down his helm and
returned the compliment, and now the two ships stood on for some time
exchanging broadsides as rapidly as they could. At length a shot struck
the "Thisbe's" fore-topmast; it had been wounded in the previous
engagement. Down it came with a crash, but so eagerly were the crew
engaged that few discovered what had happened.
The master with a few hands flew aloft, and quickly cut away the wreck;
the crew redoubled their efforts. Still the uninjured condition of the
enemy's rigging gave her an important advantage; her shot came crashing
on board the "Thisbe."
Whatever Captain Courtney might have thought, he appeared as cheerful
and confident as ever. His courage kept up that of the crew. The enemy
was frequently hulled. Now one spar was shot away; now another; his
fire slackened. The British crew cheered lustily. That hearty cheer
must have been heard along the Frenchman's decks. It showed him that
though his enemy was almost dismantled, the courage of the people was as
undaunted as ever.
"We may not take him, but we may prevent his taking us," observed
Morton, as he moved among the crew.
Just then the Frenchman's bow was seen to move up closer to the wind;
his tacks were hauled aboard, the breeze was freshening, and away he
stood on a bowline under all the sail he could set, leaving the
astonished crew of the British ship rubbing their eyes and wondering
what he was about. They, however, did not cease sending their shot
after him, as a parting compliment.
"She has but hauled off to repair damages," observed the third
lieutenant to the captain.
"Not so sure of that, Trenane," answered Captain Courtney; "probably her
captain and other superior officers have been killed or wounded, and the
rest suspect that we should prove too tough a morsel for them to
digest."
Captain Courtney seemed to be right in his conjectures; the French
frigate stood on.
All hands were instantly set to work to repair damages, to be ready for
her in case she should return. Many an eye cast an anxious glance in
the direction in which she was steering. The brave crew would have
welcomed her back, but they wished to be ready first to receive her.
Again she was observed to alter her course.
"She is coming back!" was the cry. "Hurra, lads, we'll give it her if
she does."
They watched her eagerly. She was steering to the northward under all
sail. There could be little doubt that she was in pursuit of the
"Concorde." More energetically than ever the crew worked away, in the
hopes of being in a condition to go to the aid of their consort; but
every instant the wind was increasing, the sea was getting up, and their
task became more difficult. Dark clouds were gathering in the western
horizon. It was evident that a gale was brewing, and there were
appearances that it would be a severe one. The safety of the ship
demanded all the care of the officers and the redoubled exertions of the
men. The guns were secured, the shot holes stopped, the rigging knotted
and spliced as strongly as time would allow; everything moveable below
was lashed, and the ship's head was brought to the wind to meet the
expected blast. Had she had sea room she might have scudded, but, with
the land under her lee, that was out of the question. As a brave man
girds himself for an inevitable and deadly contest, so was the gallant
ship prepared for the desperate conflict with the elements.
The British crew had not prepared unnecessarily to meet the gale,
although delayed; down it came at length upon them with even greater
fury than was expected. More than once it seemed as if the masts and
rigging would give way, and that the frigate would be driven helplessly
before its fury. Had a sail gone, had a rope given way, she might have
been hurried to destruction; but careful hands had secured the rigging,
every rope held, and there she lay nobly breasting the storm. Still she
drifted to the eastward, and, should the gale continue long, she after
all could not escape destruction.
As the morning approached, the wind blew harder and harder. Daylight
exhibited no sign of its abating. All that day it continued, its fury
in no way decreased. The weary crew began to faint with their
exertions, but the officers went among them, and with cheering words
reanimated their spirits. The carpenter had often sounded the well. He
now reported that the ship had sprang a leak; the pumps must be manned;
the demand on the energies of the crew was increased. Still they worked
cheerfully. Even some of the wounded insisted on coming up to take
their spell at the pumps.
Night again came on, but not for a moment during the whole course of it
did Captain Courtney leave the deck. Often and often did he look out
astern. He had good reason for so doing. The order was given to range
the cables. It might be necessary to anchor, to make, at all events,
the attempt to bring up the ship before she was driven on the enemy's
shores.
The morning returned at last, and away to the leeward, amid the thick
driving spray, and through the pale cold cheerless light, a line of
coast rose above the tumbling waters. Calm, as if no storm was raging,
Captain Courtney walked the deck, his eye now turned astern--now at the
rigging of his ship. He sent Mr Trenane forward to see that the
anchors were ready for letting go. The lieutenant reported all ready.
"Then we have done all that men can do to save the ship, and to
Providence we must trust the rest," observed the captain.
Few words were exchanged by any on board, the crew were at their
stations, ready to perform any duty required of them; those told off to
labour at the pumps were working manfully; and thus they would have
continued till the noble ship had struck on the rocks, or gone down
beneath the waves.
Hours passed by. Slowly but certainly she drove stern on towards the
land. The captain after a time was seen to look frequently over the
side, and to watch the land more earnestly. His countenance brightened.
"There is hope for us yet," he observed to Mr Trenane; "the wind is
dropping."
Such was the case. Rapidly the gale abated, the ship no longer laboured
as before, the leak was easily kept under, the sea quickly went down,
the wind got round to the southward, and by nightfall the "Thisbe,"
under all sail, was steering a course for England.