RONALD JOINS THE "IMPERIOUS"--CHASE OF A FELUCCA--THE MARQUIS DE MEDEA--
THE SPANISH PRIEST--RONALD ASTONISHES THE PRIEST.
The "Imperious" had been some time in the Mediterranean. She had not
been idle, nor had her crew; that was not likely under such a captain as
Lord Claymore. She had been up the Levant, and cruising among the
Ionian Islands, and then back to Gibraltar, and had returned to Malta;
and her blue-jackets and marines had landed on the Spanish and French
coasts, and, as they had done before on the Biscay shores, had captured
forts, destroyed barracks, and other public buildings, and burnt a town
or two, and cut out merchant-men and armed vessels of all sorts; indeed,
had done as much mischief as they possibly could. In all these
proceedings Ronald Morton had greatly distinguished himself, and his
captain promised him that he would not rest till he had obtained for him
his rank as a commander.
Morton was in better spirits than he had been for a long time. He was
as ready as ever for any daring exploit, but he had no desire to throw
his life away if he could help it; he had a fancy that there was
something worth living for. The good Lord Collingwood so highly
approved of the proceedings of the "Imperious," that he sent her back,
after her return to Malta, to continue the same sort of employment.
On the passage, when not far off Minorca, a large felucca was sighted,
which, from her manoeuvres, was evidently anxious to avoid the frigate.
Lord Claymore had received directions from the admiral to look out for a
craft of this description, which was known to be a pirate, and to have
committed innumerable atrocities. Chase was instantly made. The
felucca on seeing this, and apprehending danger, rigged out her tall
tapering lateen sails, wing-a-wing, as it is called, one on each side.
She appeared like a graceful sea-bird, and did her utmost to escape.
She sailed so well that there seemed a great possibility that she might
effect this. The "Imperious," like some huge bird of prey, followed in
her wake, resolved on her destruction. As yet the felucca was beyond
the range of the frigate's bow-chasers. One shot from those long guns
striking her masts or slender spars, would effectually have stopped her
flight. Over the blue waters she flew; the officers and crew of the
frigate were watching her.
"She has an evil conscience, or she would not fly so fast," observed
Glover.
"Very likely; but like other rogues, she will escape the punishment she
deserves," answered Hardman. "The wind is falling, that is in her
favour."
"Not if it fall altogether; we may take her with the boats," remarked
Morton. "There is every sign of a calm."
"She has sweeps, and it is extraordinary the rate at which these craft
can pull," observed the pertinacious Hardman. "She has every chance of
getting away from us."
"Hardman is a wise fellow. He is always expecting blanks that he may
enjoy the prizes the more when they turn up," said the surgeon.
"He loses the pleasure of anticipation, though," said Morton. "That is
too often greater than the reality."
"Ah, but I am saved the disappointment of the reverse," answered the
second-lieutenant. "See our courses are hanging against the mast, and
the felucca has lost the wind altogether. She has got out her sweeps,
and off she goes like a shot."
Just then the captain called Morton. "We must take that fellow in the
boats. Call away the crews of the pinnace and first and second cutters.
Do not lose a moment. He will show fight, and it may save bloodshed to
overawe him."
The boats were instantly made ready, and in two minutes were pulling
away full of armed men, and led by Morton to the attack of the felucca.
The crew of that vessel did not for some time discover them, and
continued as before urging her on at a rapid rate with their long
sweeps, evidently hoping to escape. The boats, however, gained on them
fast, and in a short time they were seen to lay in their long sweeps,
finding, probably, that escape was hopeless, and to prepare for the
attack. As the boats drew near, Ronald ordered them to separate so as
to board at different parts of the vessel. Her deck was soon crowded
with men, who, from their varied costumes, had a very suspicious
appearance. Some were at their guns, others held cutlasses or pistols
in their hands, threatening to make a stout resistance. One tall old
man in a Spanish dress, with a huge white moustache and a long thin
beard, stood on the companion hatch waving his sword, and with loud
vociferations calling on his men to fight. As the boats got within
hail, Morton rose and ordered the crew of the felucca to throw overboard
their weapons and yield, for they showed no flag which could be hauled
down as a sign of surrender. The answer was a round of grape and
langrage from three guns, and a volley of musketry. The missels flew,
whizzing and whistling close to his head. Happily he was unhurt; but
two of his boat's crew were hit, and the side of the boat riddled in
several places. The British seamen dashed on, and in another instant
were clambering over the low bulwarks of the felucca.
"What are we, who have been fighting with honest Frenchmen all our
lives, to be dared by a set of cut-throats like you? Take that,"
exclaimed Job Truefitt, as he dealt a blow which nearly severed a
pirate's head from his shoulder.
The man fell dead, and Job and the rest springing on, the ruffians gave
way, and many were driven overboard right across the deck, as a flock of
sheep are swept away by a torrent. The old captain defended himself
with all the fierceness of despair. He fought with the feeling that a
rope was about his neck. Ronald at last reached him, and by a dexterous
turn sent his sword flying over the side. The old man drew a pistol,
but before he could fire it, Bob Doull, had sprung up at him, and,
wrenching it from his hand, pulled him down to the deck. In vain he
struggled, other seamen surrounded him, and he was secured. Several men
of the pirate crew were driven overboard, and the rest leaped down below
to avoid the cutlasses of the British. Some in the madness of their
rage began to fire up at their captors. Fortunately, none of the latter
were killed, or it would have fared ill with the pirates. Truefitt and
others on finding this, leaped down among them, and singling out the
culprits, bound them hand and foot, and bringing them on deck, threw
them down with a kick in their sides, and an order to behave themselves.
Soon after the din of battle was over, some cries were heard proceeding
from a cabin in the after part of the vessel. Morton at once, knocking
off the companion-hatch, followed by a midshipman and several more,
leaped below. As the skylight hatch was on, the cabin was very dark,
but there was light sufficient to enable him to distinguish two old men
and a young lady struggling in the power of some of the pirate crew, who
had apparently forced their way into the cabin from forward. The
ruffians were soon hauled off from their intended victims, and secured,
with a double allowance of kicks, on deck, while Morton busied himself
with rendering what assistance he could to the young lady and her
companions. They were Spanish he found by their dress and language.
One was habited in the costume of an ecclesiastic.
He was a thin, small old man, in whose sallow cheeks it seemed as if the
blood could never have mantled, while from his calm exterior it could
not have been supposed that he had just been rescued from imminent
danger. The young lady, before Morton could reach her, had sunk down on
a locker half-fainting.
"Air, air!" she murmured out, "Oh, my father! see to him."
The old man had sunk on the deck of the cabin. The priest stooped down
to raise him up, while Ronald helped to knock off the skylight, and then
went to the assistance of the young lady. The stream of fresh air which
came from above helped to restore both daughter and father. They were
then got upon deck, and the pure atmosphere, with a sight of the British
flag, and their late masters bound hand and foot, soon completely
restored them. The old gentleman was a fine looking Don of the ancient
regime; the daughter, a perfect Spanish beauty, with raven hair and
flashing eyes, and dark clear complexion. The old Don was profuse in
his expressions of gratitude towards those who had rescued him from the
hands of the pirates. He and his daughter, with his father confessor,
the priest now present, had been travelling in France, when they heard
that Spain was about to throw off the yoke of Bonaparte; and fearing
that they should be detained, they got on board a small vessel to return
to their own country. On their passage they had been attacked and
captured by the felucca.
"That we have escaped with our lives is a mercy, when we reflect what
atrocious villains are those into whose hands we fell, and from whom you
have so nobly rescued us. That captain--the sooner you hang him at your
yard-arm the better. He cumbers the earth. It is a disgrace to
humanity to allow him to live."
"We do not execute people in England without a trial; if the captain of
the felucca is found guilty, he will probably be hung," answered Morton,
to whom this remark was made in French, a language the old Don spoke
very well. Ronald did not altogether like his manner, or the expression
of his countenance.
The sweeps of the felucca had been got out, and the boats had also taken
her in tow, and she was now rapidly approaching the frigate.
During the time, Morton endeavoured to ascertain what he could about his
new companions. Thinking that he might very possibly gain the
information he wished for most easily from the priest, he took the
opportunity of addressing him when out of hearing of the rest.
"You and your friends must have suffered much while in the power of
those ruffians," he remarked. "That old gentleman has not yet
recovered; he seems from his manner to be a man of rank."
"Yes; he is one of the old grandees of Spain," answered the priest.
"May I ask his name? for I wish to address him properly," said Ronald.
"Certainly," returned the priest. "He is known as the Marquis de
Medea."
"How strange!" exclaimed Morton, involuntarily, for he had heard that
name frequently repeated at Lunnasting, and had been taught to consider
the possessor of the title certainly not in a favourable light.
The priest, as Ronald said this, gave him a glance as if he would look
through him to his inmost soul, and yet he spoke softly and blandly as
he asked, "Why so? Why strange, sir?"
"It is a name I frequently heard in my boyhood," answered Ronald, not
supposing that there was the slightest necessity for being on his guard
with the mild-looking priest.
"That is strange," repeated the priest. "Where was your boyhood passed,
may I ask?" said the priest.