"Well, Marmaduke, my boy, we are having a jolly cruise of it," observed
McAllister one afternoon, as we walked the deck together, having just
partaken of an especially good dinner, dressed by our most polite and
obsequious prisoner, Lieutenant Preville. "If we could but fall in with
two or three more fat prizes we should be able to set up as independent
gentlemen when we get back home again, and I should be able to regain
the lands of the McAllisters from the southern churl who has dared to
take possession of them."
"They are not very extensive, then, I conclude," I observed. "A
midshipman's share of prize-money, even for the richest galleon of old
Spain, would not go far to purchase much of an estate."
"Extensive! my boy; I wish you could just come north and have a look at
them," exclaimed McAllister. "You can't see from one end to the other,
and there is the finest of fine old towers, which would be perfectly
habitable, if it were not for the want of windows, and floors, and
doors, and other woodwork; and as to the lands, to be sure there is a
somewhat considerable preponderance of bog and moor, but oats and
potatoes grow finely on the hillsides. Ah, my boy, I know well enough
what's what--the value of rich pastures and corn-fields--but there's
nothing like the home of one's ancestors--the heathery hills of old
Scotland--for all that."
My shipmate spoke with deep feeling, though he had begun in a
half-joking vein. Our prisoner joined us, and put a stop to the
conversation. He offered to go down for his guitar, and, returning with
it on deck, he touched the strings, and sang a light French song with
much taste and with a fair voice. We complimented him on his
performance.
"Ah, you like singing; I will sing to you night and day, ma foi," he
observed. "It is a satisfaction to a man of sentiment to give pleasure
to his friends, and I look upon you as my friends in spite of our
relative positions. They arise from the circumstances of war. We are
friends--true friends--why should we be otherwise?" Then he resumed his
guitar and sang again as gaily as before.
We and our consort kept close together, and as the sailing powers of the
two vessels were pretty equal, there was little danger of our being
separated. Two days after this it fell a dead calm. There we lay, not
quite steady, but rolling gently from side to side, moved by the
scarcely perceptible and glassy undulations which rose under our keels.
The sails went flap-flap against the masts in the most senseless manner,
till McAllister ordered them to be furled to prevent the wear and tear
they were undergoing. As to the heat, I had never before felt anything
like it in the tropics. We could have baked a leg of mutton almost,
much more fried a beefsteak, on the capstan-head, while below a dish of
apples might easily have been stewed. I remembered Mr Johnson's
account of the heat in the West Indies, and began to fear that he had
not exaggerated it. It went on growing hotter and hotter, or we felt
the heat more and more. The smoke from the chimney of the galley went
right up in a thin column, and hung in wreaths over our heads, while
that from our cigars, being of a lighter character, ascended above our
noses, and finally disappeared in the blue, quivering air. The Espoir
lay within hail of a speaking-trumpet, and as we had nothing else to do,
we carried on an animated conversation with each other, not very
dignified, but highly amusing to all concerned. We had better have held
our tongues, I suspect. Any departure from discipline is bad. The
Frenchmen who were on deck soon began to imitate our example, and, as
they mostly spoke in a patois or jargon which we, of course, could not
understand, we did not know what they were saying. I thought I saw a
peculiar expression on the faces of some of them, especially when now
and then they glanced round and looked at our men. At last, I told
McAllister that I fancied the Frenchmen were plotting treason, and that
it would be wise to make them hold their tongues. He laughed at the
notion, and asked if I supposed a set of frog-eating, grinning Frenchmen
would dare to lift a finger against such a crew of bull-dog Englishmen
as were our men.
"I cannot say they wouldn't," I answered; "they fought pretty toughly
before they gave in."
"Very true, but they had a chance of victory then. Now the chances
would be all against them, and they might expect to be pitched overboard
if they failed," he replied, turning away as if he did not like the
suggestion. He, however, soon after hailed Perigal, to say that he
thought we had had enough of that, and then, turning to the French
prisoners, told them to hold their tongues. After a time a mist seemed
to be rising over the water, but the heat in no way decreased.
"There is something coming," I observed to McAllister. "What do you
think?"
"Christmas, or perhaps a breeze," he answered, jokingly; "both to all
appearances equally far off. I see one thing, though, which would make
me rather unwilling to jump overboard." He pointed to a black
triangular object, below which was a long shadowy form that was moving
slowly round the ship. "What's that?"
"The boatswain's pet shark, I suppose," said I, laughing. "I should
almost expect to see the Doris coming up with a breeze from the
nor'ard."
"Just jump on his back, Merry, and see if he doesn't carry you off up to
the frigate. It would astonish them not a little to see you coming,"
said McAllister.
"Thank you, I leave such wonderful performances to wonderful people like
Mr Johnson," said I.
Just then the monster, turning up the white of his undersides, made a
dart at a black bottle and a wisp of hay which had been thrown overboard
in the morning. Down they went into his capacious maw.
"Unpleasant sort of pill. I wonder if the glass will cut him," observed
McAllister.
I shuddered, for I could not help thinking what would have been the fate
of any human being who might have happened to be overboard. The seamen
had found out their enemy, and were talking about him, and watching his
proceedings with suspicious glances. They have an idea that when a
shark follows a vessel some one is about to die on board, and that he is
waiting for the corpse. Sharks have been known to follow vessels for
days together, but undoubtedly it is simply that they may feed on the
offal thrown overboard. Of course if any seaman happens to die during
the time, unless he is lashed up in a hammock with a shot at his feet,
they are likely to be the gainers. I have, however, very often seen
them following a ship when nobody has died. One example in support of a
superstitious idea does more to confirm it in the minds of the ignorant
than a hundred examples on the opposite side do to weaken the belief in
it.
Not long after this, Perigal hailed McAllister, and, pointing round to
the sky, told him that he did not like the look of things. He then
signed to us to strike our topmasts, and make everything snug aloft. At
the same moment the crew of the Espoir were seen swarming aloft to
shorten sail. We had our sails lowered. Hands were now sent aloft to
furl them carefully, and to strike upper yards and topmasts. While the
hands were thus engaged, as I was standing by the compass to ascertain
the direction of the schooner's head, I saw Perigal point to the
westward, and make a sign to the men aloft to hurry with their work. I
did the same, though we, having less to do, were ahead in our
proceedings of our consort. I saw enough to convince me that there was
no time to be lost. The blackest of black clouds had gathered with a
rapidity scarcely credible, and were rushing on towards us with headlong
speed. It was not as is often the case when a storm is brewing; a few
light clouds come first like the skirmishers in advance of an army; but
the whole body came on in one dense mass, the sea below it foaming, and
hissing, and curling with a noise which we could hear even before the
wind reached us. A hurricane was coming, and one of no ordinary
violence.
"Lie down! lie down, off the yards, all of you," shouted McAllister.
The men required no second command. A glance at the quickly changing
sky and water told them what was approaching. They slid down the
rigging, and in silence awaited the bursting of the tornado. The
Frenchmen who were on the deck looked pale and anxious, as if they
dreaded the consequences of the hurricane. Bambrick and another good
hand went to the helm. A part of the fore-staysail was hoisted, just to
pay the vessel's head off. We were not kept long in suspense. With a
loud hiss and roar like thunder the hurricane struck us. The schooner
heeled over to the gale; I thought she was going over altogether. Many
fancied so likewise, and cries of terror escaped from several of the
Frenchmen. Lieutenant Preville uttered an expression of annoyance at
the pusillanimity of his countrymen.
"They are brave garcons, though," he exclaimed, "and fight like heroes
with mortal foes of flesh and blood; but they are not like you bull-dog
English, who fear neither mortals nor spirits, and would do battle with
the prince of darkness himself, if you met him in the open seas on board
any craft he might be able to charter."
What more the lieutenant might have said I do not know, for the howling
of the tempest drowned his voice. The foaming seas began to rush up the
schooner's deck, and dense masses of spray flew over her. I thought,
indeed, that she was gone; but, recovering from the effects of the first
blast, she rose a little when her staysail felt the force of the wind.
Round went her head: another blast stronger than the first blew the
canvas from the bolt-ropes, but the desired effect had been produced,
and away she flew under bare poles through the ocean of seething foam;
the wind howling and shrieking, and the waters hissing and roaring as we
passed over them.
Till that moment, all my attention having been concentrated on our own
craft, I had not thought of our consort. I now looked out for her. She
was not to be found in the direction where I expected to see her. I
cast my eyes round anxiously on every side. The atmosphere was now so
dense with spray torn up from the surface of the ocean that the extent
of our horizon was much limited. Yet I fancied that we must still be
close to our consort. In vain I looked round. I called out to
McAllister and told him my fears. Certain it was that the Espoir was
nowhere to be seen. I felt very sad. I could not help dreading that
the Espoir had been struck as we were, and being less prepared, had
capsized and gone over. I thought what had become of poor Grey, my
constant firm friend, and honest Perigal, and I pictured to myself how
his young wife would mourn his loss, and whether, if I ever got home, I
should have to go and tell her how it had happened. I remembered that
huge monster of a shark, which had been swimming round the vessels, and
I bethought me that he had come for them if not for us. I was not
singular, for when the Espoir was missed by others, as was soon the case
when they began to lose fear for themselves, I heard Bambrick observe to
his companion at the helm, "I thought so; I know'd that brute hadn't
come for nothing; they always knows better nor we or the port-admiral
himself what's in the wind. He was as sartain sure as cheese is cheese
that this here Harry-cane was a coming, long before we'd even a notion
that it was a brewing."
The other seaman shook his head with a grave look, as he answered, "I
wonder how many of them poor fellows he's got down his hungry maw by
this time!"
Such was the style of conversation among our men. What the Frenchmen
were saying I do not know. They very soon recovered their spirits and
courage, and began laughing and chattering, and dancing about the deck
in higher spirits than ever. Perhaps they did not always intend to
move, but the now fast rising seas gave the lively little vessel sudden
and unexpected jerks, which sent them jumping forward or aft, or from
side to side, whenever they happened not to be holding on to anything.
Still I did not feel that we were altogether free from danger. The
hurricane blew fiercer and fiercer, the sea also got up rapidly, and
threw the vessel about in a way which made it very difficult to steer
before it. Fortunately our topmasts were housed, or they would have
been jerked overboard. I asked McAllister what he proposed doing.
"Doing! Why, of course, scud on till the hurricane has blown itself
out," he answered.
"But doesn't the wind sometimes shift in a hurricane, and blow more
furiously from another quarter?" I asked.
"Of course it does, and perhaps it will, and we shall be blown back
again as far as we have come," he said, taking a look at the compass.
"But suppose it was to blow us back farther than we have come," I
observed.
"Merry, just go and bring the chart to the companion stair," was his
answer. "It will be blown away if we have it on deck, and I cannot go
below just now."
I brought the chart, at which he took a rapid glance. Eastward, as we
were now driving, we had plenty of sea-room, and in a wholesome craft
like ours, there was nothing to fear; but westward there was the coast
of Central America, fringed by rocks and sandbanks, on which many a
noble ship has been stranded since Columbus discovered the western
world.
"It is to be hoped that the wind will not shift," he answered. "It does
not always. Don't let us anticipate evil."
Lieutenant Preville inquired what we were talking about. We told him.
He shrugged his shoulders. "Patience; the fortune of war; we seamen
must always be subject to such reverses," he remarked.
"The Frenchman takes things easily," observed McAllister. "I wish that
I could do so."
I had never before pictured to myself what a West India hurricane really
was. At times I thought that the schooner would be blown fairly out of
the water. How her masts remained in her was a puzzle, from the way she
jerked and rolled, and plunged madly onward, struggling away from the
seas which seemed every moment as if they would catch and overwhelm her.
Even though thus flying before the gale, we felt as if we should be
blown down, had we not kept a good grip of the bulwarks, and those
forward had hard work to make their way aft. Suddenly there was a lull.
The effect was curious; I can liken it to nothing but when, by shutting
a thick door, some loud hubbub of angry voices is no longer heard. The
schooner tumbled about just as much as before, or even more, but,
instead of being driven onward, she was thrown madly from wave to wave,
backwards and forwards; it seemed as if they were playing a game of ball
with her. McAllister ordered me to hurry forward and to get some head
sail on the schooner. Some of the lower parts of the fore-staysail
remained. There was no time to bend a new one. There had been a little
wind before; it now fell a dead calm; the smoke of a cigar would have
ascended as it had done a few hours before. It proved but treacherous:
I positively jumped from the suddenness with which the hurricane again
struck the vessel, and, as we had apprehended, from the eastward.
Happily the sail this time produced the desired effect, turning her head
from the wind, and then away the canvas flew from the bolt-ropes far off
upon the gale. Onward we drove as before, still more tossed and
tumbled. Had our friend, Colonel Pinchard, been with us, he would have
had some reason to complain of the _mal de mer_. The Audacieuse was a
strong, tight vessel, or she would have sprung a dozen leaks, and gone
down with all the knocking about she got. She, however, remained as dry
as a bottle. Still, as we rushed on, every instant approaching nearer
and nearer the rocks and sandbanks of the coast of Central America, our
anxiety increased. It was vain to hope that we could heave-to, or in
any way stop our mad career. We had done all that could be done, and
had now only calmly to await our fate, whatever Providence had designed
that should be. It is under such circumstances as this, that the
courage and resignation of men are most severely tried. All action has
of necessity ceased, the body is at rest, the mind has now full time for
thought. Numberless acts of the past life rise up to the recollection,
many a deed, and thought, and word, which must bring either pain or
fear; principles undergo a test which the wrong and baseless cannot
bear. Death looks terribly near. What can stand a man in good stead on
an occasion like this? One thing, and one thing alone--sound Bible
religion; a firm faith in Him who took our nature upon Him, and died for
our sins, and rose again, that He might present us, rising with Him,
faultless before the throne of Grace. I say that is the only thing that
can make a man feel perfectly happy under such circumstances. I have
seen many men stand boldly up to meet expected death, who have no such
hope, no such confidence; but their cheeks have been pale, their lips
have quivered, and oh, the agony depicted in their eyes. The soul was
speaking through them, and told of its secret dread. Let no one be
deceived by the outward show, the gallant bearing of a man. Too often,
all within is terror, horror unspeakable of the near-approaching unknown
future. We had still a long way to drive before we could reach the
neighbourhood of the dreaded shoals and reefs. Most of the men probably
were ignorant of the risks we were about to encounter. Happily,
perhaps, for seamen, they seldom realise danger till it presents itself
palpably before them. The Frenchmen, after a time gaining confidence,
began to laugh and joke as before. Our men stood calm and grave at
their posts. Not that they saw danger or felt fear, but that they were
engaged in their duty, and knew that much depended on their steadiness
and courage. Night came on; it was far more trying than the day. I
felt very tired, but as to turning in, that was out of the question.
Hours after hours we flew on, plunging headlong through the darkness,
and often, to my excited imagination, strange shrieks and cries seemed
to come out of the obscurity. Once as we flew on, as I stood watching
black masses of water rising on our quarter and rolling on abeam of us,
I fancied that I saw a large ship, her hull with her lofty masts
towering up to the skies, close to us. It appeared as if another send
of the sea would have driven us aboard her. I thought that I could
distinguish people leaning over the bulwarks watching us with longing
eyes. There was a gush of waters from her scuppers. I could hear the
clang of the pumps; she was already deep in the water, rolling heavily;
cries arose from her decks; lower and lower she sank. I watched her
with straining eyes. A dark sea rose up between her and the schooner.
She was no longer where she had been; the tracery of her masts and
rigging appeared for an instant above the water, and then sank for ever.
I uttered a cry of regret. McAllister shouted to me, and asked me why
I had gone to sleep. I declared that I had been wide awake, and told
him what I had seen.
"You've sharper eyes than any one else," he answered. "You must have
been asleep; we passed no ship, depend on that."
I insisted on it that we had, and that he had not been looking out as I
had; and from that day to this day I am uncertain which was right. I
must, however, own that none of the men had seen the sinking ship; but
then I hold that neither were they looking out, and it was but a few
moments that she was in sight.
"Had all on board seen her we could have rendered her hapless crew no
assistance," I thought to myself, "so it does not signify."
On we drove. I never spent a more trying night at sea. I thought the
morning never would come or the gale end. The morning, however, did
come, as it always does for those who wait for it. We were still
driving on furiously, and as the cold grey light of the early dawn broke
on the world of waters, the tossing ocean seemed more foam-covered and
agitated than even on the previous day. I could see no signs of the
cessation of the hurricane, nor did McAllister. Bambrick, however,
observed that he thought there was less wind, and that it blew with more
steadiness than before. The Frenchmen gave no opinion; indeed, most of
them were below asleep. I worked my way forward to look out ahead. I
stood by the side of the man stationed there for some minutes.
"The sea is terribly broken away on the starboard bow there," I said.
"Yes, sir, I don't like the looks of it," was the answer, as we
continued gazing. We did not speak again for some minutes. It was as I
feared though.
"Breakers! breakers ahead!" we both simultaneously shouted. "Breakers!
breakers on the starboard bow!"
"Starboard the helm," cried McAllister, in a deep tone, without the
slightest sign of agitation. It was doubtful if the vessel would feel
the effect of the helm sufficiently to prevent her drifting bodily to
leeward. On we drove. Another moment might see the vessel and all on
board hurled to destruction. The stoutest vessel ever built could not
hold together for two minutes should she strike on rock or sandbank with
the awful sea then running dashing over her. I drew my breath short and
clenched my teeth as we approached the broken water. The spray flew
over our mastheads. Still we did not strike; the dreaded breakers
appeared abeam. We had passed the head of a bank or reef. I saw some
rocks and sand with a few trees in the distance, probably part of an
island, easily discerned under ordinary circumstances above water. The
danger for the moment was past, but there was no doubt that we had
reached that portion of the Caribbean Sea most studded with dangers.
Any moment we might again be among reefs. All we could do was to look
out ahead, and pray and hope that we might escape them, as we had done
the first. Half an hour or twenty minutes passed; some tall palm trees
amid the misty atmosphere appeared bending to the storm on the larboard
bow. It was doubtful whether reefs might not run out to the northward,
and if so we could scarcely escape striking on them. The helm was,
however, put to port, that we might pass as far as we could from the
island. McAllister hurried forward, and, taking a steady look, declared
his conviction that there was a reef to the northward of the island, and
that if we could get a little sail on the schooner, we might run under
its lee and ride in safety till the tempest was over. The very thought
of the possibility of this renewed our spirits. The wind had certainly
lessened. Rousing up the Frenchmen to lend a hand, we got a
main-trysail and fore-staysail hoisted. The little craft heeled over,
as once more putting the helm to starboard we brought her closer to the
wind, in a way which made it seem probable that she would never recover
herself; but she did, though; and now we flew on, plunging through the
seas which broke on our larboard quarter, towards the island. We drove,
of course, to leeward very fast, but still we had hopes that we might
round its northern end before we drove past it altogether. Everybody on
board stood clustered on deck, watching the island, and ever and anon
casting anxious glances at the canvas. It stood now, though an hour
before it would not have done so. We approached the island.
"Breakers! breakers on the starboard bow! breakers on the larboard bow!"
shouted the men forward. I caught sight of some less broken water
ahead. We steered towards it. In another moment our fate would be
decided. We flew on; the sea broke terrifically on either hand, but the
schooner did not strike. The water became calmer--the island grew more
and more abeam. We flattened in the canvas, and, standing towards the
land, in another ten minutes found ourselves in a sheltered bay, where,
though our mastheads still felt the force of the gale, the wind scarcely
reached us on deck. Our anchor was dropped and we rode in safety. I
could have fallen on my knees and thanked Heaven for our merciful
preservation from so many dangers, but such an act was not in accordance
with our usual habits, and I was kept back from fear of what my
companions would say. How miserable and contemptible is such a feeling!
We are not afraid of displeasing our all-beneficent Creator, or
appearing ungrateful for His mercies, and we are afraid of the ridicule
of our fellow-men, or even of a sneer from the lips of those we despise
the most. I dare say, if the truth were known, that McAllister,
Bambrick, and others felt exactly as I did, and yet we were positively
afraid of showing our feelings to each other. What a contrast did our
present position exhibit to the wild tossing to and fro, and the strife
of elements we had just passed through. Here (for the wind dropped
rapidly) all was calm and quiet; the mist dissipated, the sun shone
forth, and the blue waters of the bay sparkled as they rippled gently on
the light yellow sand, strewed with numberless beautifully coloured
shells; while numerous tall palm trees and shrubs of lower growth formed
a bright fringe of green round the shores of the bay.
As we wanted water, and all agreed that some fresh cocoa-nuts would be
very pleasant, I took a boat with four hands, two Englishmen and two
Frenchmen, and, accompanied by Lieutenant Preville, pulled on shore. I
also took a fowling-piece, in the hopes of getting a shot at some birds.
There was no lack of cocoa-nuts, which the hurricane had blown off, on
the ground, many of the trees themselves being laid prostrate. We had
to hunt about some time before we found a spring. At length we came on
one overshadowed by trees, where, by clearing away the ground with our
spades, we could fill our casks. I with the two Englishmen was still at
the spring, when the French lieutenant and his two countrymen were
rolling down a cask to the boat. I followed, and when yet at some
distance, I saw the Frenchmen step into the boat and begin shoving off.
I ran on, and, having some bullets in my waistcoat pocket, I dropped one
down the barrel of my fowling-piece, which I presented at the
lieutenant's head, ordering him to come back. He did not at first pay
any attention to my threats; I hailed again, and told him that I had
loaded with a bullet, and that I did not approve of the joke he was
playing. I, at the same time, saw some of the Frenchmen on board the
schooner making signs to him. Suddenly he turned round, as if he had
only just seen me, and the boat pulled back to the shore.
"I demand a thousand pardons, monsieur," he exclaimed, with the blandest
of smiles. "I was only joking, but I am afraid from your countenance,
that my vivacity carried me too far." He went on for a considerable
time in this style, till my two men came down with their cask, and then,
shoving off, we returned on board. I asked McAllister if he had
observed anything peculiar in the behaviour of the prisoners while I was
on shore.
"I was below for a short time, and when I came on deck I found them
clustering on the rigging forward," he answered, carelessly. "I called
them down, as it is against orders, and they immediately obeyed."
I told him of the odd conduct of Lieutenant Preville, but he observed
that he thought it was only the Frenchman's joke, though it might be
wise to keep a stricter look-out on the prisoners than we had lately
done. We had little time however, for, pretty well worn out with the
fatigues we had endured for the last four-and-twenty hours, we were glad
to take the opportunity of being in a snug harbour to turn in and go to
sleep. Before doing so, however, I told Bambrick, who had charge of the
deck, to direct the sentry placed over the prisoners to keep his weather
eye open, lest they should play us any trick. Tops are said to sleep
soundly; I know from experience that midshipmen do. From the moment I
put my head on the pillow it seemed but a moment that I was roused up to
keep the morning watch. I found a light breeze blowing from the
southward. It would not do to lose this opportunity of getting clear
out to sea again; so I sent down to McAllister, who soon joined me, and
agreed that I was right. The anchor was weighed, and under easy sail we
ran out through the passage by which we had entered this harbour of
refuge. As I looked on the rocks on either side, now showing their dark
heads above water, it seemed wonderful how, with so terrific a hurricane
blowing, we had safely entered. How often thus through life are we
steered safely by a merciful Providence, amidst hosts of dangers which
we do not at the time see, and for protection against which we are but
too often most miserably unthankful. We were soon clear of the island,
but it was necessary to keep a very bright look-out to avoid running on
the reefs which we had before escaped. Several times we saw rocks on
either hand, and breakers still dashing wildly up, showing that reefs or
banks were there, and more and more astonished were we that we had
passed between them in safety. Lieutenant Preville shrugged his
shoulders.
"It would need a good pilot to carry a vessel in safety between those
reefs as we came yesterday," he observed. "But, after all, the best
pilot is the Goddess Chance, who guided us."
"Chance, monsieur! Chance!" exclaimed McAllister, with a vehemence in
which he seldom indulged. "I do not believe that there is such a thing
as chance, much less a goddess. I am not going to discuss the subject,
only don't talk to me of chance."
The Frenchman again shrugged his shoulders, hoped that he had not given
offence, and walked away, humming a tune. He continued, however, as
polite and obliging as at first. He declared that we wanted a good
dinner after our labours, and insisted on cooking it. He outshone
himself, and with some shell-fish we had picked up, and two birds I had
shot, produced some wonderfully delicious dishes. The wind held fair,
but it was light, and it required us constantly to be on the look-out to
thread our way among the dangers which surrounded us. Our anxiety, too,
was very great for the fate of our consort. She was nowhere to be seen,
and our fears were increased that she had gone down when first struck by
the hurricane. We did not breathe freely till we were well out at sea,
clear of all reefs and shoals. Lieutenant Preville especially
complimented us on the seamanship we had displayed, and assured us that
it was a great satisfaction to him to have been our shipmate through so
trying an event. McAllister and I now agreed that if we did not fall in
with the Espoir it was undoubtedly our duty to return to Jamaica. We
accordingly cruised about for two days, and then shaped a course for
that island. The next night it was my middle watch on deck. It had
struck seven bells, and I was contemplating the satisfaction I should
feel in turning in and going to sleep, when I suddenly found the French
lieutenant walking by my side. This was against rule, as none of the
prisoners were allowed to come on deck at night without the permission
of the officer of the watch. He apologised, saying that he was
oppressed with the heat, and knew that I would allow him to come. In a
little time he professed to see a light ahead, and induced me to walk
forward to look at it. Just as I was abreast of the foremast I found my
arms seized, a gag thrust into my mouth, and a handkerchief bound over
my eyes, so that I could neither struggle, cry out, nor see what was
going forward. The horrible conviction came on me that the Frenchmen
were attempting to recapture the vessel. I hoped that McAllister might
be awake, as he was so soon to relieve me. The suspense, however, was
terrible. I found myself secured to the bulwarks, and left to my
cogitations. I augured the worst, because there was no cry; no shots
were fired. There I sat, it seemed an age, listening for some sounds.
I was almost sure that the Frenchmen had mastered all our people on
deck, even Ned Bambrick. At length I heard one of the French seamen
speaking; he was making a report to Lieutenant Preville. A loud cheer
was the response, "Vive l'Empereur! vive la France!" I knew full well
by this, that they were in entire possession of the vessel. My heart
sank within me. It was bad enough to lose our prize; it would be worse
to be thrown overboard, or to have our throats cut. I did not, however,
think that the Frenchmen would do that. They would take very good care,
though, that we did not regain the vessel. Such being the case, I
really felt almost indifferent as to what became of us. After all the
civility we had shown Lieutenant Preville, I thought that he might as
well have released me from my uncomfortable position, with my arms
lashed tightly behind me, and a gag in my mouth. I heard some orders
issued in French, and the blocks rattling, and yards creaking as if the
sails were being trimmed, and the schooner's course altered. Hour after
hour passed by; at last I fell asleep with a crick in my neck, and the
sound of a Frenchman's voice in my ear.
"Oh, pauvre miserable!" said the voice; "why we forgot him."
Such was the fact, not very complimentary to my importance. I had been
overlooked. The speaker took the handkerchief off my eyes. It was
daylight, and the schooner was running under all sail before a fair
breeze. Lieutenant Preville soon appeared, and, telling the men to cast
me loose, invited me, in a tone of irony, I fancied, to join my brother
officer at breakfast with him.
Poor McAllister looked dreadfully cast down. We took our seats in
silence. Our host, who had yesterday been our guest, was in high
spirits.
"It is the fortune of war, you well know, Monsieur Merry," he observed
with a provoking smile. "Brave garcons like you know how to bear such
reverses with equanimity. I can feel for you, though, believe me.
Monsieur McAllister, I drink to your health, though I fear that you will
not be a lieutenant as soon as you expected. Here, take some of this
claret; it will revive your spirits."
My messmate seized the decanter of wine, which it is the custom of the
French to have on the table at breakfast, and drank off a large tumbler.
He drew a long breath after he had done so.
"You have the advantage of us this time undoubtedly, Monsieur Preville,"
he exclaimed bitterly; "but a day will come when we shall meet together
on equal terms, and then, I hope, as brave men we shall fight it out to
the death."
"With pleasure, assuredly," answered the Frenchman, with the politest of
bows and smiles. "But in the mean time you must endeavour to restrain
your impetuosity. At present it would be impossible to give you the
satisfaction you require."
Poor McAllister ground his teeth; the words were taunting, but the
expression of the Frenchman's countenance was more so. He would have
sprung up and fought him then and there, with carving knives or any
weapons at hand; but he restrained himself for a good reason. The
lieutenant had a brace of loaded pistols by his side on the table, and
two seamen stood on either side of us with loaded muskets, ready to blow
out our brains, had we exhibited any signs of insubordination.
McAllister went on eating his breakfast in silence.
The lieutenant pointed to the men and to his pistols.
"These are to do you honour," he observed. "They are the greatest
compliment we can pay to your bravery. Unless you were handcuffed, I
should not think myself safe a moment."
"We did not treat you so," I remarked.
"No, my friend," he said, smiling; "but you are prisoners, and I have
regained command of my schooner."
I had not a word to say, but I resolved to profit by the lesson in my
future career.
We were not allowed to communicate with any of our men, who were kept
under strict watch forward, and only permitted to come on deck one at a
time, in charge of a sentry. McAllister and I even had no opportunity
of communicating with each other. When we got on deck, an armed man
walked up and down by our side, and when we approached the compass, we
were ordered away, so that we could not tell what course we were
steering, except by guessing from the position of the sun.
Of course, with all the care the Frenchmen took, we had very little
hopes of being able to retake the schooner. Neither could we tell what
was to be done with us, nor did Lieutenant Preville think fit to inform
us. After all our anticipations of prize-money and pleasure on shore,
to have the inside of a French prison alone in view was very galling to
our feelings. McAllister could do nothing but mourn his hard fate, and
mutter threatenings against France and Frenchmen should he ever regain
his liberty. Our only hope was that one of our own cruisers might fall
in with the Audacieuse, and that we might thus be set at liberty.
Consequently, whenever we were on deck we scanned the horizon anxiously,
resolved, if we caught sight of a sail, not to give the Frenchmen too
early a notice of the fact. At last one day we lay becalmed, while a
thick mist had settled down over the ocean. I began to fear that we
were going to have another hurricane. The Frenchmen did not think so,
but took things very easily. The look-out came down from aloft, and,
except the man who was placed as sentry over us, all hands employed
themselves in mending their clothes and in other similar occupations.
The man at the helm stood leaning on the tiller, lazily watching his
companions. Suddenly to the westward I saw the mist lift, and, directly
under the canopy thus formed, I distinctly saw a large ship standing
down under all sail towards us. I was afraid by word or sign to point
her out to McAllister, and dreaded lest the expression of my countenance
might draw the attention of any of the crew towards her. She could not
fail to pass close to us if she continued on the course she was
steering. I only hoped that the mist would lift again, in time to show
the Audacieuse to those on board her. The mist seemed, much to my
satisfaction, to be settling down again, when at that instant Lieutenant
Preville came on deck. His quick eye instantly detected the stranger.
Having uttered some forcible expletives as to his opinion of his crew's
conduct in not keeping a better look-out, he ordered the sails to be
trimmed, and every stitch of canvas the schooner could carry to be set
in readiness for the coming breeze, McAllister's and my eagerness may be
easily conceived. We both had an idea that the ship was English, and
that she would bring up the breeze. What was our disappointment, then,
when we saw the schooner's sails rilling out. Away she glided before
the breeze. The mist soon afterwards entirely cleared away, and
exhibited the stranger about two miles off. By her build and the cut of
her sails she was English. When she saw us, all sail was made on board
her; but the Audacieuse had a fast pair of heels, and it was soon
evident that she was leaving her pursuer far astern. Our hopes sank and
sank, and by nightfall we had run her out of sight. When morning
returned the stranger was nowhere to be seen.
Four days thus passed by. They were far from agreeable ones. Early on
the sixth we found a substantial breakfast on the table, and after we
had partaken of it with a suspicion that it was to be our last on board,
we were ordered on deck. Here we found the schooner hove-to, and all
our people assembled, while alongside lay one of the schooner's boats,
with oars and masts and sails, a water cask, and some hampers and cases
of provisions. There was a tarpaulin, and the boat was fitted in other
respects, as far as she could be, to perform a long voyage.
"There, my friends," observed the lieutenant; "I wish to part with you
on friendly terms. I do not desire to keep you as prisoners, as I am
bound on a long cruise, and I hope that you may regain your own ship in
safety. I will give you your course for Jamaica, which you may reach in
a week; farewell."
We had not a word to say against this arrangement, so, thanking the
Frenchman for his courtesy, we followed our men, who had before been
ordered into the boat. Even McAllister could not help putting out his
hand and exclaiming, "You are brave, as are most Frenchmen, but you are
honest and kind-hearted, and that is more than I, for one, will say of
some of your countrymen."
The lieutenant shrugged his shoulders and laughed as he shook our hands.
He was in high good spirits, as well he might be. We stepped into the
boat, and he waved his hand; we shoved off, and, bowing as politely as
we could force ourselves to do, we hoisted our sails and shaped a course
for Jamaica. The Audacieuse filled, and then, hauling her wind, stood
away to the eastward.