"THISBE" IN SEARCH OF THE "OSTERLEY"--A CHASE--THE "OSTERLEY"
OVERTAKEN--FOUND IN POSSESSION OF THE FRENCH--RETAKEN--THE PASSENGERS
NOT ON BOARD--MORTON PLACED IN COMMAND OF THE "OSTERLEY"--THE UNKNOWN
ISLAND--OLD DOULL ACTS AS PILOT.
The non-arrival of the "Osterley" at Bombay created considerable anxiety
in all those who had friends on board, or who were otherwise interested
in her in their feelings or purses. At length the fears for her safety
became so great that Captain Calder was requested to sail in search of
her. No one received with more satisfaction the announcement that the
ship was to put to sea than did Ronald Morton; at all events he would be
doing the only thing in which he could now take an interest. His heart
had been tortured with a thousand fears as to the fate of one whom he
had discovered that he ardently loved. Had nothing unusual occurred it
probably would have taken him much longer to ascertain the true state of
his heart: misfortune has a wonderful power of testing the feelings and
revealing their condition.
Neither Rawson nor Sims could make him out, they agreed.
"What can have come over the poor fellow?" said the latter. "The
climate does not agree with him; he should go home invalided."
Glover might have suspected the true state of the case, but he kept his
counsel to himself.
The "Thisbe" overhauled every vessel she fell in with, and made
inquiries at numerous places as she ran down the coast, but nothing was
to be heard of the "Osterley." She rounded Ceylon, and stood across the
Indian Ocean. Ronald Morton had kept a sharp look-out for any strange
sail before, on the passage to Bombay; he kept a sharper look out now.
The frigate had got about a third of the way across the Bay of Bengal,
when the second lieutenant, who, much to the surprise of his
subordinates, spent many of his spare moments aloft, made out a sail to
the southward steering west. She was a large ship, but whether
man-of-war or merchantman, friend or foe, it was impossible to say.
Ronald came on deck, and all sail was made in chase; the idea seized him
that the ship in sight was the one of which they were in search.
"I am afraid you will be disappointed," remarked Captain Calder. "She
is probably some homeward-bound Indiaman from China; this would be her
track, remember."
The chase did not alter her course, but all the sail she could carry was
packed on her; she sailed well, but the frigate sailed better; there was
a fear that she might not overtake her till nightfall. Morton walked
the deck with greater impatience than he had ever before exhibited, now
looking out to windward, now at the sails, now at the chase; as the
frigate drew nearer the chase, the opinions were strongly in favour of
her being an Indiaman.
"But if she is, why should she run away?" observed Glover, who was
always inclined to side with Morton.
"An Indiaman she is," observed Rawson. "I hope soon we may be near
enough to send a shot across her fore-foot."
The chase sailed well, and though the frigate gained on her it was not
at a rate to satisfy Morton's impatience. It was getting dusk as they
drew near; his glass had scarcely ever been off the chase.
"That must be the `Osterley;' and yet it is strange," he exclaimed.
"What can have happened to her?"
The frigate at length ranged up alongside. By this time it was dark;
lights were seen glimmering through her ports. Captain Calder hailed.
"Wa, wa, wa," was the only answer he received.
"She must be in the hands of an enemy," he said.
Morton's heart sank within him.
"Heave-to, or we fire!" cried the captain.
In a little time the creaking of blocks was heard, and the Indiaman's
courses being hauled up, she slowly came to the wind. The frigate
hove-to to windward of her, a boat was lowered and manned, and Morton
leaped into her, followed by Glover.
"Give way, lads!" shouted the lieutenant, eagerly.
She was soon alongside; her officers and their followers scrambled on
board: little help was afforded them to do so; on the contrary, the
expression of the countenances which looked down on them, seen by the
glare of the lanterns, showed that if not backed by the guns of the
frigate, they would have been received at the points of boarding-pikes
and with the muzzles of pistols presented at their heads. The
determined looks of the sturdy man-of-war's men made the crew of the
Indiaman hold back. Directly Ronald stepped on board he glanced his eye
anxiously around; he had no longer any doubt that she was the
"Osterley," but with not a face that met his gaze was he acquainted.
A rough piratical-looking man, in a naval uniform, stepped forward,
sword in hand, and presenting the hilt with an air which none but a
Frenchman could assume, said--
"Monsieur, the fortune of war places us in your power; we yield
ourselves prisoners, and claim your clemency."
"On what ground do you claim that? Where are the passengers and crew of
this ship who sailed in her from Calcutta?" exclaimed Ronald.
"The fortune of war threw them into our hands, as we have been thrown
into yours," answered the captain, drawing himself up. "The courtesy
for which our nation is famed has prompted their captors to treat them
with courtesy."
"I trust so," exclaimed Morton, with a look which the Frenchman could
not fail to understand. "But tell me--what commission do you bear? Do
you belong to the Imperial marine of France?"
Morton asked these questions with an agitation he could scarcely
conceal, for from the appearance of the captain and his crew he could
not help dreading that those in whom he took so deep an interest had
fallen into the power of a band of pirates; all the atrocities of which
such ruffians could be guilty occurred to him.
"Speak, man; tell me--what are you?" he shouted, for the man seemed to
be hesitating about giving a reply.
"What we are you perceive, monsieur," he answered. "We are cavaliers
and Frenchmen, and are at present prisoners to an honourable enemy; as
such we expect to be treated."
"How you are ultimately treated depends on your conduct towards those
whom you have had in your power," said Morton. "Enable us to recover
them, and you need have no fear on that score."
The Frenchman shrugged his shoulders, and protested that he had had
nothing to do with the capture of the Indiaman; that he had been put in
charge of her by others to carry her home, and, moreover, that he knew
nothing of the passengers, except that he had been assured that they
were in safety.
When Morton interrogated him as to where he had last come from, he
declared that he had been, with his crew, put on board at sea, from a
country craft, and the captors of the ship had taken all the passengers
out and carried them he knew not where.
Ronald would not believe this statement; but the man persisted in it,
and seemed obstinately determined to make no other Captain Calder
directed Morton to take command of the recaptured "Osterley," and Glover
went as his lieutenant, with a couple of midshipmen, Job Truefitt, Bob
Doull, and about thirty other hands. They not being sufficient to work
the Indiaman, some twenty of the prisoners were retained on board her.
It now became a question what course to steer. At length, as the wind
was favourable, Captain Calder resolved to return to Calcutta, and
should he not hear of the missing prisoners, to get the admiral to send
some other ship in search of them. This determination of the captain
was the only consolation Morton could obtain. Still the fact of their
having fallen in with the Indiaman was of itself considerable
encouragement.
Two or three days passed by; the wind was light, and not much way was
made. It would be difficult to describe the varied feelings with which
Morton visited the cabins which had been occupied by the Armytage
family.
To calm the agitation of his mind, he went on deck and paced up and down
by himself. At length, as he turned to walk forward, he saw Bob Doull
coming aft, hat in hand, to the quarter-deck. The young seaman gave the
usual hitch to his waistband, with a scrape of his foot, while he swung
back his hat, and then waited till his superior looked as if he was
ready to listen to him.
"What is it, Doull?" asked Morton.
"Please, sir, I've found among these outlandish chaps forward, we took
aboard the prize, an old man who says as how he knows something about
me, sir," said Bob, twisting his hat round and round.
"About you, my man; who can he be?" inquired the lieutenant.
"Why, sir, he says as how he's my daddy," answered Doull, bluntly. "He
may be, cause as how my daddy went away to foreign parts many years gone
by, and never came back; but if he is, he's a rum sort of one. I can't
say as how I takes much to the old gentleman as yet."
"Let me see the man, and hear his story," said Morton. "I had no idea
that we had an Englishman among the prisoners."
"Bring him aft at once; let him speak to no one; I must question him."
Before long, Bob Doull was seen dragging along a tall, gaunt,
grey-headed man, with a long beard and moustache, on whose head it was
evident neither scissors nor razors had operated for many a year past.
He was dressed like a French sailor, and except for a peculiar gait and
certain movement characteristic of a British seaman, he would have been
taken for a Frenchman.
"Please, sir, this old man says as how he is my father," began Bob,
handing him aft on the quarter-deck. "Come, cheer up, and tell
Lieutenant Morton all you know."
The old man cast an inquiring, doubtful look at Morton's countenance,
but seemingly satisfied with his scrutiny, he exclaimed, "I want, sir,
to make a clean breast of it. For many years of my life I haven't known
what happiness is, and don't ever expect to know it again."
"As to that," said Morton, interrupting him, "I'll hear you by-and-by;
but first, I wish to know where you have come from, and where the
passengers and crew of this ship are now to be found?"
"I was coming to all that presently," persisted the old man. "It's of
the past I want to speak."
"But, man, lately, what have you done?--what crimes have you committed?"
exclaimed Morton.
"None that I know of," answered the seaman. "I was always a wild blade,
from the time I first set foot on a ship's deck. There was no mischief
I was not up to, no crime I feared committing. I had done many bad
things, but the worst was to come. I was still a lad, and so was my
chum, Archy Eagleshay, and another, an older man, and older in crime,
too, but he's gone to his account, as we must all go, great and small."
"You speak truth, my man," exclaimed Morton, now losing all patience.
"Again I ask you to pass over your early days, and to come to the latter
events of your career. How did you happen to be on board this ship,
among a set of Frenchmen and ruffians of all nations?"
"That was what I was coming to tell you, sir," giving a peculiar look at
Morton, who was doubtful whether it was caused by stupidity or
obstinacy. He saw, at all events, that there was no use in attempting
to draw forth the information he required before the old man was ready
to give it.
After a pause, seeing that Morton was not again going to speak, the old
man continued: "Well, as I was saying, sir, he who is gone came to
Eagleshay and me, and says he, `Are you lads ready to gain more golden
guineas than you ever set eyes on in your life?' Of course we were.
`It's nothing but carrying off a slip of a baby who can do little more
than talk, and just leaving him in the plantations.' We didn't ask
questions, but we went on board a little sloop he owned, and then we
waited, cruising about, till one evening he told us to pull on shore,
and there we found a nurse and child, and the woman gave us the child.
Away we went with it aboard the sloop, and made sail, and never dropped
anchor till we reached the port of Dublin. Then our captain sold the
sloop, and we all went aboard a ship and sailed for America. We didn't
reach it though. We had done a cursed deed, and God's curse was to
follow us. Our ship went down, and we were left floating on a raft; we
were well-nigh starved, when a ship fell in with us, and we were taken
on board. The captain was a kind-hearted man, and he said he would take
care of the little fellow; and as our captain--he that's gone--had got
the money for the deed he'd done, he didn't try to keep him; indeed, he
could not have kept him if he'd wished; and so the good captain drew up
a paper from what we'd told him, and he made us put our names to it, and
he went and locked it up, and after that he never talked about the
matter. We didn't know what he might do, so we ran from the ship at the
first port we came to. From that day to this I never set eyes on the
youngster, or heard of the good captain again. Well, one bad thing
leads to another. We all then went out to the West Indies, and we
shipped aboard some strange craft, and strange flags they sailed under.
It was difficult to know, when you came on deck, what was flying at the
peak. There were many things done which sickened me, and some of my
shipmates I saw hung up at Port Royal in a way I didn't like, and at
last I got away back to England. I then took a wife. Many years,
you'll understand, had passed by. I thought I was going to remain on
shore, and be quiet and honest. I'd one little chap born, and I began
to be fonder of him than I had been of any living creature before; but I
was short of money, and the old feeling came over me. When I wanted it
out in the West Indies then I took it. I now did a thing or two which
made me fly the country. From that day to this I have never set foot on
the shores of old England."
Morton thought that he might now venture to interrupt the old man. He
had been so anxiously waiting for the account he might give of the
passengers, that he paid little attention to the first part of the
narrative.
The old man declared that he knew nothing particular about them. He was
on the other side of the island when the Indiaman arrived. He knew that
a number of people had been landed, and that huts had been built for
them, and that they were living on shore; but sentries were placed in
the neighbourhood of the spot, and no one was allowed to pass to
communicate with them.
"But what is the character of the men who have possession of the
islands? Are they men-of-war's men, privateers, or pirates?" inquired
Ronald.
The answer the old man gave was not perfectly satisfactory. "They might
be pirates, for they were a rough set; but then privateers were often
rough enough, and little better. Then again some of the ships which
came in wore pennants, and the officers had uniforms; but it was easy
enough for a privateer or a pirate to fly a pennant, and any man could
put on a uniform, as he had often seen done by villains who finished
their career by being hung up in chains."
Morton took several turns on the deck. Could nothing satisfactory be
made out of the old man? "Could you find your way back again to those
islands you speak of?" he asked.
"Maybe I could tell the course we've steered; for when it has been my
trick at the helm I marked it well--it has always been the same. Five
days had passed since we tripped our anchor before you fell in with us.
Nor'-west by west, half west; and we ran between seven and eight knots
an hour--seldom less, I should say. There, sir, can you make anything
out of that?"
"I hope so; and could you pilot us into the harbour from which you
sailed?" asked the lieutenant.
"That I could, I am bold to say, seeing that I've been fishing over
every spot of it for the last ten years, or more," said the old man.
"That will do, Mr Doull. Stay aft here, with your son, as you say he
is; and I think you are right, for there is a likeness. I will trust to
you, and I will do my best, if you prove true, to get you pardoned for
any offence against the laws which you have committed."
Ronald called Glover and signalised the frigate. Both ships hove-to,
and he went on board. His consultation with Captain Calder was soon
over, and on his return both ships shaped a course in the direction
indicated by the old man.