My recovery was rapid: in less than a fortnight I was on the sofa. The
frigate was now rigged, and had taken in her water and stores, and was
reported ready for sea in a month, as we still required about forty men
to make up our complement. I saw a great deal of Captain Green, who
paid me a visit almost every day; and once, when our conversation turned
upon the duel, I made the same remark as I did when Colonel Delmar used
such harsh language over the body of Major Stapleton. "Yes," replied
Captain Green, "I thought it was my duty to tell him what Colonel Delmar
had said. He was very much excited, and replied, `The _greatest_
scoundrel, did he say?--then is the devil better than those he tempts;
however, we are both in each other's power. I must get well first, and
then I will act.' There certainly is some mystery, the attack was so
unprovoked, the determination so positive. Have you any reason to
suppose that Colonel Delmar is your enemy, Captain Keene? for certainly
he did appear to me to do all he could at the time of the duel to give
your adversary the advantage."
"I really have no cause to suppose that he has grounds for being my
enemy; but I cannot help suspecting that, for some reason or reasons
unknown, he is so."
When Captain Green had left me, I tried all I could to find out why
Colonel Delmar should be inimical to me. That he was the supposed heir
to Miss Delmar I knew; but surely her leaving me a few thousands was not
sufficient cause for a man to seek my life. Lord de Versely had nothing
to leave; I could come to no conclusion that was at all satisfactory. I
then thought whether I would write to Lord de Versely, and tell him what
had happened; but I decided that I would not. The initials had been put
in the papers at the announcement of the duel, and, had he seen them, he
certainly would have written down to inquire about the facts. My mother
had so done, and I resolved that I would answer her letter, which had
hitherto remained on the table. I sent for my desk, and when my servant
brought it me, the bunch of keys were hanging to the lock. I thought
this strange, as I had locked my desk before I went out to meet Major
Stapleton, and had never sent for it since my return; my servant,
however, could tell me nothing about it, except that he found it as he
brought it to me; but after a little time, he recollected that the
doctor had asked for a pen and ink to write a prescription, and that the
colonel had taken the keys to get him what he required. This accounted
for it, and nothing more was said upon the subject. Of course, although
it was known, no notice was taken of what had passed by the Admiralty.
I had not even put myself down in the sick report, but signed my daily
papers, and sent them into the admiral's office as if nothing had
happened.
In six weeks I was able to limp about a little, and the Circe was at
last reported ready for sea. My orders came down, and I was to sail
with the first fair wind to join the squadron in the Texel and North
Sea. I had taken up my quarters on board, and was waiting two days,
while the wind still blew hard from the eastward, when my promise to
write to Mr Warden occurred to me; and, as I had closed all my
despatches to Lord de Versely--the Honourable Miss Delmar, to whom I
made my excuse for not being able to pay my respects before my
departure--my mother, and my aunt Bridgeman--I resolved that I would
write him a long letter previous to my sailing. I did so, in which I
entered into the whole affair of the duel, the conduct of Colonel
Delmar, and my suspicions relative to him; stating, at the same time,
that I could not comprehend why he should have sought to injure me. I
finished this letter late in the evening, and the next morning, the wind
having come round, we sailed for our destination.
Once more on the water, all my thoughts were given to the service. We
soon fell in with the North Sea squadron, and the day afterwards the
Circe was directed to go on shore in company with the Dryad, and watch
the flotillas of gun-boats which had been collecting in the various
rivers and ports; to sink, burn, and destroy to the utmost of our power.
This was an active and dangerous service, as the enemy had every
advantage in the sands and shoals, and hardly a day passed in which we
were not engaged with the flotillas and batteries. It was, however, now
fine weather, for the winter had set in early, and had passed away, and
for two months we continued in the service, during which my skip's
company were well trained. One morning a cutter from the fleet was
reported from the mast-head, and we expected that we should soon have
our letters from England, when the Dryad threw out the signal for six
sail of praams in shore.
The two frigates made all sail in chase, leaving the cutter to follow us
how she could. Our masters were well acquainted with the shoals on the
coast, and we threaded our way through them towards the enemy. We were
within gun-shot, and had exchanged broadsides with the batteries, when
the flotillas gained a small harbour, which prevented our making any
further attempts. The Dryad made the signal to haul off; it was quite
time, as we had not more than four hours' daylight, and were entangled
among the shoals. The breeze, which had been fresh, now increased very
rapidly, and there was every appearance of a gale. We worked out as
fast as we could, and by nine o'clock in the evening we were clear of
the sands, and in the open sea; but the gale had sprung up so rapidly
that we were obliged to reduce our sail to close-reefed topsails. With
the sands under our lee, it was necessary to draw off as fast as we
could, and we therefore carried a heavy press of sail all the night--at
last, the wind was so strong that we could only carry close-reefed
maintop-sail and reefed fore-sail; and with a heavy sea, which had risen
up, we felt that we were in extreme danger.
Daylight once more made its appearance. Our first object was to
ascertain the position of the Dryad. For a long time we looked in vain;
at last, a partial clearing up of the horizon on the lee bow discovered
her, looming through the heavy atmosphere, more like a phantom ship than
the work of mortal hands. She was a deep grey mass upon a lighter grey
ground. Her top-masts were gone, and she was pitching and rising
without appearing to advance under her courses and storm staysails.
"There she is, sir," said Mr Wilson; "and if the gale lasts, good-bye
to her."
"If the gale lasts, Mr Wilson," said I in a low voice, "I suspect you
may sing our requiem as well; but we must trust to Heaven and our own
exertions. Pass along the lead-line, Mr Hawkins."
"Aye, aye, sir," replied the officer of the watch; "how much out sir?"
"Forty fathoms."
The men ranged themselves along the lee-bulwarks, chains, and gangway
and passed the deep sea-lines from aft to the anchor stock forward. The
deep sea lead was taken forward, and as soon as it was bent and ready,
the ship was thrown up to the wind so as to check her way. "Heave," and
the lead was thrown, and as it descended the line was dropped from the
hands of the men, one after another, as the line drew aft; but when it
came to the hands of the master, who was on the quarter, instead of
finding, as he expected, forty fathoms of water, he had to haul in the
slack line for such a length of time, that the lead was astern and no
proper soundings could be obtained.
One thing was, however, certain, which was, that we were in much
shallower water than we had any idea of; and the master, much alarmed,
desired the quarter-master to go into the chains and see if he could get
soundings with the hand-lead while the men were hauling in the deep
sea-line. The quarter-master was forestalled by Bob Cross who, dropping
into the chains, cleared the line, and swinging it but twice or thrice,
for there was little or no way in the vessel, let it go.
The anxiety with which the descent of the line was watched by me, the
master, and other of the officers who were hanging over the hammock
rails, it would be difficult to describe. When sixteen fathoms were out
the lead sounded. Cross gathered up the slack line, and fourteen and a
half fathoms was announced.
"Mr Hillyer," said I, "oblige me by coming down into the cabin." The
master followed me immediately. The chart was on the table in the
fore-cabin.
"We must have gone to leeward dreadfully, sir."
"Yes," replied I; "but the sweep of the currents in heavy gales is so
tremendous, and so uncertain on this coast, that I am not surprised. We
must have had a South East current, and probably we are hereabouts,"
continued I, putting the point of the compass upon the spot.
"It seems hardly possible, sir," replied the master; "but still I fear
it must be so; and if so," continued he, drawing a deep sigh, "I'm
afraid it's all over with us, without a miracle in our favour."
"I am of your opinion, Mr Hillyer; but say nothing about it," replied
I; "the gale _may_ moderate, the wind _may_ shift, and if so we _may_ be
saved. At all events, it's no use telling bad news too soon, and
therefore you'll oblige me by not saying anything on the subject. A few
hours will decide our fate."
"But the Dryad, she is good four miles to the leeward of us, and the
soundings decrease here so rapidly, that in an hour, with the sail she
is under, she must go on shore."
"She has no chance, that's certain," replied I. "I only hope it may be
so thick that we may not see her."
"Not a soul will be saved, sir," replied the master, shuddering. "I
should say it were impossible, Mr Hillyer; but we all owe Heaven a
death; and if they go first and we go after them, at all events, let us
do our duty until the time comes--but never despair. As long as there
is life, there is hope; so now let us go on deck, and put as good a face
on it as we can."