THE "THISBE" APPROACHES THE ISLAND--OLD DOULL'S REVELATIONS AS TO THE
"OSTERLEY'S" PASSENGERS--THE FRIGATE PUT UNDER FRENCH COLOURS--
EXPEDITION IN THE BOATS--ATTACK ON THE FORTS--"OSTERLEY'S" PASSENGERS
CARRIED OFF.
To return again to the "Thisbe" and rescued "Osterley." The frigate and
Indiaman were once more hove-to, at a short distance from each other.
In the far distance appeared a group of islands like blue hillocks
rising out of the shining ocean. Volunteers from the frigate eagerly
crowded on board the "Osterley," armed to the teeth. Morton had gained
sufficient information from the old man to enable him to form a plan for
rescuing the prisoners, should they be, as he trusted, still on the
island. He had had frequent conversations with the elder Doull. One
day the old man again referred to the abduction transaction in which he
had been engaged in his youth. The similarity of the account to that
Morton had heard of his father's history, struck him.
"Where was it? from what part of the coast did you take the child?" he
asked, eagerly.
"Did I not say from Shetland?" replied the old man. "And what is
strange, Lieutenant Morton, the boy's name was the same as yours; but
maybe you know nothing of Shetland; it's a fine land anyhow, and you are
too young to be the child I was speaking of."
"You are mistaken in one point, Mr Doull," said Morton. "I belong to
Shetland; I was born and bred there; and I feel almost sure that the boy
you carried off was my father. He was picked up at sea by a Captain
Scarsdale, who brought him up as his son."
"Scarsdale!--now you speak it, that's the name of the master of the
vessel who took us off the raft, and from whose ship we ran. For many a
long year I have not thought of it. Yes, Andrew Scarsdale; and the boy
was called Rolf Morton--the names come back to me as if I heard them but
yesterday. There are not many other names I can remember which I knew
at that time."
"But do you believe that that was the real name of the child?" asked
Morton, for he had heard his father express his belief that the name he
bore was not his true one.
"That I do not know," answered old Doull. "If it was not, the only one
of us who knew the truth was our leader--the man who led us to commit
the crime--that villain, Rolf Yell. It's many a year since I have
spoken his name. Now I remember, he gave me a paper to Captain
Scarsdale, and put his name to it, and we saw him do it; and we--that
is, Archy Eagleshay and I did; and the captain put his name, and we put
ours after that, though we didn't read the paper, but the captain said
that it was all right, and that it was what he wanted, and he took it
below; and so I supposed that it would make everything square for the
poor boy."
This circumstantial account agreed so exactly with that which Captain
Scarsdale had given his father, that Ronald had no doubt that he had
found a clue which might lead to the solution of the mystery hanging
over his early history.
What had become of the important document? Why had not Captain
Scarsdale produced it? Yell, at all events, knew his father's real
name, and he must have communicated it to Captain Scarsdale. He longed
to meet his father, that he might give him the information he had
received, and consult with him as to what steps it would be best for
them to pursue.
Formerly he perhaps would have been very indifferent as to the result;
now he could not help feeling that if it could be proved that he was of
gentle blood, it might enable him the better to succeed in realising the
bright visions in which he had of late been indulging. There might be a
thousand obstacles in his path, but he felt that he could clear them all
away by courage and perseverance, as he would a host of enemies with the
strokes of his cutlass.
Such were the feelings with which Ronald Morton prepared for the attempt
to rescue the passengers and crew of the "Osterley" from the hands of
the Frenchmen. Old Doull had warned him of the difficulties to be
encountered. He had described the dangers of the approach to the bay,
the strength of the forts, and the number of the garrison. This of
course only increased the anxiety of Morton and his followers to
commence the work in hand.
While Morton was still forming his plan, old Doull, hat in hand, came
aft.
"Captain Morton," he said, "my son Bob has been telling me how you have
been kind to him, and stood by him ever since he came to sea, and I want
to show you that my old heart, though it's pretty well scorched and
dried up with the hard life I've led, can still feel thankful for
favours done. At first I couldn't make Bob believe that I was his
father, and no wonder, for an unnatural one I had been to him all his
life; but I told him so many things about when he was a baby that he
knows it now, and has taken to call me father, and that warms my heart
and gives it such a pleasure I can't describe. After having had no one
to care for me for better than twenty years, except old Archy
Eagleshay--and I couldn't trust him over-much, 'specially if a cask of
rum was in his way--it is a happiness to be called father--that it is,
sir. I hope as how some day you will feel it. Well, sir, as I was
saying, I was turning in my mind how I might serve you best. Now, I've
been thinking that if we were to sail in with the ships, and attempt to
take the forts by force, though we might and should succeed in the end,
we might hurt some of the English people on shore, and that's what you
wouldn't wish to do."
"No, indeed," said Ronald, shuddering. "That I would not, of course.
But what do you propose?"
Ronald had discovered the uselessness of attempting to hurry the old
man, so he waited patiently for his reply.
"Why, sir, I think if the ship was to run in just before dark under the
French flag, the people on shore would fancy that she had been brought
back for some reason or other, and very likely wouldn't board her that
night. When it is dark I will go on shore and find my way to the huts
of the prisoners. I will tell them that you have arrived to bring them
off, and I think that I could manage to conduct them down by a path to
the shore, so that the French sentries shall not see them. In that way,
sir, they may be got on board without danger."
Morton was not satisfied with the whole of Doull's plan.
"You forget the risk the prisoners would run of being fired on by the
French sentries, if found escaping; while, before the ship could leave
the bay, the forts would open fire on her, and very probably injure some
of them. However, I will think over your proposal, and I thank you for
your anxiety to serve me."
Morton would rather have run in with both ships, reduced the forts, and
carried off the prisoners in triumph, but caution as well as boldness,
he knew well, were necessary to insure success. Captain Calder highly
approved of the plan he ultimately laid before him.
All was ready on board the "Osterley." The boats were hoisted in; and
while she ran on towards the land the frigate hauled her wind and stood
off again.
The Indiaman rapidly approached the land. As she drew in with it the
French ensign was hoisted at the peak. Job Truefitt looked up at it.
"It's the first time that I minds that I ever sailed under that buntin',
and I would be sorry to see it often hoisted over my head," he observed
to the elder Doull, pointing at it with his thumb half over his
shoulder, and a contemptuous sneer on his lips. "I never loved them
mounseers, and hopes I never may. They are to my mind the nat'ral born
enemies, so to speak, of Englishmen, and it's my belief that they'll
remain the same to the end of the world."
Doull was now summoned aft to pilot the ship among the reefs which
surrounded the group of islands she was approaching. The wind had been
faithful, and Morton managed so well that it was close upon sunset
before the "Osterley" got inside the reefs. It would have been anxious
work to carry a ship, in the uncertain light which still remained, among
those numerous rocks and shoals, even with a friendly port in which to
drop her anchor. Ronald, with the old man by his side, stood conning
the ship, while two seamen with sharp eyes were placed at the end of the
jib-boom, and others at the fore yardarms, to give notice of any danger
they might discover.
"There'll be no use keeping the lead going, sir," said Old Doull. "You
may get a cast of twenty fathom, and the next moment have the ship's
bows hard and fast."
Ronald knew that this was the case, nor did it decrease his anxiety.
Steady hands were at the helm. The seamen were at their stations to
trim or shorten sail. The Indiaman glided onward. She was already
inside the reefs, and the heaving motion of the ocean was no longer
felt. Hills clothed with verdure rose close before them, the shore on
either side, fringed with cocoa-nut trees, seen here and there over the
yellow beach rising against the deep blue sky. The forts, too, could be
made out, though thrown into shade in the centre of the landscape, as
the ship, boldly guided by the old seaman to a berth, dropped her
anchor. The carpenter had been busily employed all day in constructing
a canoe. It was forthwith lowered noiselessly into the water, and Doull
and his son stepping into it, paddled away to the shore, keeping,
however, as far off as possible from the forts.
"That man can be trusted," observed Ronald to Glover, though the words
implied a doubt of the fact.
"At all events we must trust him, sir," answered the midshipman; "that
is very clear."
After waiting for some time, and no one appearing from the shore, the
boats were lowered without noise into the water, and at once manned. By
this time the dim outline of the shores of the bay could alone be seen.
Morton took command of one, Glover of another, and the boatswain of the
frigate of a third. Sims remained on board in charge of the ship. The
Indiaman's boats followed with a midshipman in each, so that there were
six altogether.
There were three forts, and it was arranged that two boats' crews should
simultaneously attack each of them. The oars were muffled, and away the
flotilla glided from the side of the big ship, as Glover observed to the
midshipman with him, like a brood of new-born serpents sallying from
their parents' side intent on mischief. Not a sound was heard on shore,
not a sound either did the boats make as they glided over the smooth
surface of the bay. Morton's mind misgave him. It seemed strange that
no people from the shore had come off to the ship.
"Surely they must have seen her even through the gloom," he said to
himself. "Can the Frenchman have left the place, and carried off the
prisoners?"
The question was soon to be solved, but his impatience would scarcely
brook the necessary delay. He had ascertained from Doull the direction
of the huts where the English prisoners were located. Doull had also
described the best landing-places under the forts. The boats, in three
divisions, proceeded on their separate courses. The centre fort was the
strongest. Ronald selected that for himself. His heart beat quick as
he approached it. Who when going into action does not discover that his
pulse beats more rapidly, even under ordinary circumstances? Ronald
felt that the safety of one now dearer to him than life was involved in
the success of his undertaking.
As the boats drew closer to the shore it was necessary to proceed more
carefully, for fear of running on the rocks, which jutted out in certain
parts of the bay. Though the surface of the bay was smooth, there was a
slight surf on the shore, the noise of which, as it broke, tended to
overpower any sound which the oars made as they dipped into the water.
Could the French garrisons be asleep? No sentry's challenge was heard
on the walls. Perhaps, believing that it was unlikely an enemy should
discover them, and impossible for one to approach at night, they had
all, in fancied security, gone to rest; but then they must have seen the
approach of the ship.
Ronald had promised to send up a rocket the instant the parapet was
gained and the enemy aroused. A few more strokes, and the boats would
reach the landing-place. Just then a loud hail came from the walls of
the fort. Ronald answered, in French, "People from the captured
Indiaman."
"Stay there," said the sentry, who had, it seemed, either been asleep or
just come up to his post. This, however, was an order the English were
not very likely to obey, so on they dashed as fast as possible, knowing
that in another minute their purpose would be discovered. Leaping on
shore, several carrying ladders, they rushed to the walls. At the same
moment a rocket flew into the night air high above the heads of the
combatants, to give notice to their comrades that the attack was begun.
The ladders were placed in position, and up they climbed, in a way
British seamen only can climb, each eager to be first, and yet one
helping on the other in the noble race of honour. In vain the sentries
and a few men left on guard rushed out to oppose the assailants, and
shouted and bawled to their comrades to hurry to their assistance. A
pistol bullet or the stroke of a cutlass silenced the voice of many a
boasting Frenchman for ever.
The English had made good their footing in the fort, but before they had
time to advance, they found themselves opposed by the whole garrison,
who, though just awakened from sleep, surprised and bewildered, fought
with the fury of desperation. They had, however, seized in the hurry
and darkness the weapons which first came to hand, and many were but
imperfectly armed. Now they were driven back--now more of the officers
coming among them, they again rallied and stood bravely for a few
minutes, but every foot of ground Morton and his followers gained they
kept, and onward they fought their way. The pistol shots, and shouts,
and cries from the other forts, and high above all, the true hearty
English cheers to which the seamen gave vent, showed the enemy that they
were attacked by no insignificant force. By whom they were attacked
they probably could not tell, till those well-known cheers reached their
ears. Still they bravely stood their ground.
"On, lads, on!" shouted Morton, laying about him with his cutlass more
furiously than ever. He began to be afraid, from the pertinacity of the
Frenchmen, that they expected reinforcements. Again the British seamen
made a fierce charge; those of the enemy in the front rank were cut down
or driven back upon their companions in the rear. They in their turn
gave way, and the whole body of Frenchmen took a hurried flight across
the fort, with the intention of escaping through the gate on the land
side. This was what Morton was especially anxious they should not do.
He dashed after them like a dog endeavouring to turn a flock of sheep.
He and several of his followers reached the gate almost at the same
moment, but not in time to stop them. Out dashed the Frenchmen, driving
each other forward. The British seamen followed close upon their heels,
cutting down those they could overtake, but they in their fall somewhat
impeded the pursuers. Morton marked well the way they took. It was
towards, he believed, the huts of the prisoners. He guessed what their
purpose would be--on he went in hot haste. Once some of the fugitives,
finding so few of their enemies close at their heels, stopped, and stood
at bay. They had cause to repent their temerity. Three were brought to
the ground by the edge of Ronald's cutlass, somewhat blunted as it was,
while others, with severe wounds, again took to flight.
In the dark many of the pursuers and pursued were scattered, but Morton
followed what he believed to be the main body. Suddenly cries and
shrieks arose in front, and men's voices were heard shouting, and he
thought he recognised that of old Doull and--yes, he was certain--that
of Colonel Armytage. Among the female voices was one which thrilled
through every nerve. Ronald rushing on, shouted to his men to collect
them round him; in another instant he found the two Doulls and Colonel
Armytage fiercely engaged with a party of the fugitives. His cutlass
soon put the latter to flight.
"Where are the ladies?" he exclaimed; but he scarcely waited for an
answer. He divined too well what had occurred.
"There! there! the scoundrels have carried them off towards the woods,"
cried Colonel Armytage.
In another instant Ronald was among the Frenchmen. Some of the men
finding that with their burdens escape was impossible, let them go free,
but others continued their flight. The cries of children and the
shrieks of women resounded through the woods. Edda Armytage was still
in the hands of the enemy. On rushed Morton; young Doull was by his
side.
"There's some people with a lady, sir," he exclaimed, making a dash
towards a path which led down a dell on one side. There were several
men, and Ronald at that moment caught sight of a female dress among
them. Morton's quick ear recognised Edda's voice.
"Oh, save me! save me!" she cried out.
The man who held her boldly came to the front, while his comrades
retreated. Ronald's cutlass was upraised to strike, when the Frenchman
placed his captive before him as a shield. The rest rallied round him,
and Morton, with Doull alone by his side, found himself opposed to a
dozen or more desperadoes, while he felt almost unnerved by seeing Miss
Armytage in their power. His dread was that some stray shot or the
careless stroke of a cutlass might injure her. All he could do was to
keep at bay the rest of the Frenchmen, while he continued to summon his
followers. They, however, it appeared, were skirmishing on either side,
or rather following the retreating enemy in every direction. Ronald
made the most desperate efforts to cut down some of his opponents, but
each time that he appeared to be gaining a success the big Frenchman
thrust himself before him. He had received one or two severe cuts, and
was beginning to despair that help would come in time to prevent the
Frenchman from escaping.
Edda had from the first recognised his voice, yet she dared not trust
herself to address him by name. Still not for a moment did Ronald relax
in his exertions. The Frenchmen had the advantage of knowing the
ground, and they were evidently, Ronald conjectured, aiming at some
particular spot, where they might hold out successfully. The path was
steep, and numerous creepers of a tropical vegetation crossed it. In
one of these the big Frenchman must have caught his foot; he stumbled,
and before he could recover himself young Doull sprung like a tiger on
his throat, and held him tight. The ruffian still attempted to retain
his hold on Miss Armytage.
"You look after the others, sir--I can settle with this fellow," sung
out the young seaman; but his officer thought more just then of saving
the lady than of beating the enemy.
While the Frenchman was still paralysed with the vice-like clutch which
Doull had taken of his throat, Ronald cast his arm round Edda, and
forced her from his grasp.
"Hurra!" shouted Bob Doull, "I'll soon finish off the villain now."
He was as good as his word, for never for a moment relaxing his hold of
the man's throat, he threw himself on him with such force, that he
brought him to the ground; with his knee he kept down one of the man's
arms, and with his left hand the other.
"I shall have done for him soon, sir," he shouted; "he's giving in, no
fear."
What cared Ronald now for wounds, or for the enemies who were attacking
him! Supporting Edda with one arm, he kept them back, and prevented
them from rescuing their companion. Suddenly Bob Doull sprang to his
feet, and laying about him with his cutlass, quickly put the rest of the
Frenchmen to flight.
"Oh, Ronald, what happiness to be saved by you!" murmured Edda, scarcely
conscious of what she was saying, as Morton, followed by Bob Doull, who
kept a cautious look-out on every side, returned to the huts.
Those words revealed to him what he had scarcely dared to hope. He
found old Doull severely hurt, while Colonel Armytage had been unable to
follow, in consequence of his former wounds. He did not recognise
Morton, but he expressed himself full of gratitude to the gallant
officer who had been the means of rescuing his daughter. Mrs Armytage
was soon afterwards conducted back to the huts; she, with the other
ladies and children who had been earned off, having been rescued by
another party of seamen. The remainder who had escaped, and hid
themselves, now made their appearance; husbands and wives looking for
each other, and mothers and nurses hunting for their children.
Glover and the boatswain now sent two midshipmen from the forts, to
announce their capture, and to state that they had secured the
garrisons. It was thought advisable, however, to get the ladies on
board without delay.
Captain Winslow and the officers and the crew of the "Osterley," who had
been hutted at a distance from the rest, on hearing the firing, had
broken through the sentries, and hurried to the spot. Arms were put
into their hands, and they were directed to hold the centre fort, while
the passengers were once more conveyed on board.
Ronald would not entrust Edda to the care of any one, but had supported
her on his arm till the boats were ready to embark the passengers; he
now carefully placed her in one of them, with her mother, and other
ladies, under charge of Colonel Armytage.
"I would that I could accompany you on board, but my duty keeps me on
shore. I know not what number of the enemy may be on the island; they
may rally and attack the forts: it is of the utmost consequence that
they should be held by us till the ship is clear of the harbour: you and
your companions will be safer on board than even within one of the
forts. I trust by dawn to be on board, and to carry you off in safety
from the scene of your captivity."
These words, which might have been spoken to any ordinary person, were
heard by all, but the tone of voice and the gentle pressure of the hand
were understood by her to whom they were addressed, and she whispered,
that she was sure whatever he did was for the best.
As soon as the boats shoved off, Ronald went round to visit the forts.
He found Glover and his party standing guard over the prisoners they had
captured--a ragamuffin crew composed of natives of nearly every country
in the world, and from their appearance Ronald had strong suspicions
that they might deservedly be looked upon as pirates. In the other fort
Mr Tarbot, the boatswain, had charge of a similar crew. They were very
sulky, and as the light of the lanterns fell on their scowling
countenances, Morton thought that they looked capable of committing any
atrocity, and he felt grateful that Edda and her friends had been
rescued from their power.
The sound which gave him the most satisfaction through the hours of
darkness was the regular striking of the bell on board the Indiaman. It
assured him that her people were on the alert, and that all was going on
well. It was nearly dawn when, hearing a sentry hail, he hastened to
the spot. "A friend," was the answer, and he recognised the voice of
old Doull; he directed him to come into the fort, and he soon appeared
with a companion, whom he introduced as Archy Eagleshay. The latter was
a man very similar in age and appearance to Doull, though his
countenance betokened far less acuteness and intelligence. Ronald was
much relieved at the return of Doull. On many accounts he was anxious
not to lose sight of him, and for the present it was specially important
to have him on board the "Osterley," to take her out of the harbour
through the intricate passages by which he had piloted her in.
At early dawn every one was astir. The former crew of the "Osterley"
were employed in collecting all the property of the passengers, and in
carrying it on board the ship, greatly to the satisfaction of its
owners. Four seamen had fallen in the attack, and nearly twenty of the
enemy. They were all hurriedly interred, friends and foes sleeping side
by side on the shores of that lovely bay. The prisoners were next
divided among the boats, and carried on board. Their company would
gladly have been dispensed with, but Morton judged that it was the only
safe way to break up this nest of hornets. The last thing that was done
was to spike all the guns; some were simply dismounted, and others were
tumbled over the parapet among the rocks. There was not time to do
more, for Morton was anxious to get to sea and rejoin the frigate.
Once more the anchor of the "Osterley" was weighed, and with the wind
off the land she stood out of the bay.