Produced by Nick Hodson of London, England
The Log of a Privateersman
By Harry Collingwood
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Another cleverly written and interesting book by this prolific author of
books about the sea for teenage boys. The time of the story is the very
beginning of the nineteenth century, at which time the British were at
war with France. The task of a privateersman is to act as a licensed
pirate, preying on enemy ships. The hero is very successful at all
this, and eventually is offered a permanent commission in the Royal
Navy. Makes a good audiobook.
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THE LOG OF A PRIVATEERSMAN
BY HARRY COLLINGWOOD
CHAPTER ONE.
THE CAPTURE OF THE WEYMOUTH--AND WHAT IT LED TO.
The French probably never did a more audacious thing than when, on the
night of October 26th, 1804, a party of forty odd of them left the
lugger _Belle Marie_ hove-to in Weymouth Roads and pulled, with muffled
oars, in three boats, into the harbour; from whence they succeeded in
carrying out to sea the newly-arrived West Indian trader _Weymouth_,
loaded with a full cargo of rum, sugar, and tobacco. The expedition was
admirably planned, the night chosen being that upon which the new moon
occurred; it was a dismal, rainy, and exceptionally dark night, with a
strong breeze blowing from the south-west; the hour was about two
o'clock a.m.; there was an ebb tide running; and the ship--which had
only arrived late in the afternoon of the previous day--was the outside
vessel in a tier of three; the Frenchman had, therefore, nothing
whatever to do but to cut the craft adrift and allow her to glide,
silent as a ghost, down the harbour with bare poles, under the combined
influence of the strong wind and the ebb tide. There was not a soul
stirring about the quays at that hour; nobody, therefore, saw the ship
go out; and the two custom-house officers and the watchman--the only
Englishmen aboard her--were fast asleep, and were secured before they
had time or opportunity to raise an alarm. So neatly, indeed, was the
trick done that the first intimation poor old Peter White--the owner of
the ship and cargo--had of his loss was when, at the first streak of
dawn, he slipped out of bed and went to the window to gloat over the
sight of the safely-arrived ship, moored immediately opposite his house
but on the other side of the harbour, where she had been berthed upon
her arrival on the previous afternoon. The poor old gentleman could
scarcely credit his eyes when those organs informed him that the berth,
occupied but a few hours previously, was now vacant. He looked, and
looked, and looked again; and finally he caught sight of the ropes by
which the _Weymouth_ had been moored, dangling in the water from the
bows and quarters of the ships to which she had been made fast. Then an
inkling of the truth burst upon him, and, hastily donning his clothes,
he rushed downstairs, let himself out of the house, and sped like a
madman down the High Street, across Hope Square, and so on to the Nothe,
in the forlorn hope that the ship, which, with her cargo, represented
the bulk of the savings of a lifetime, might still be in sight. And to
his inexpressible joy she was; not only so, she was scarcely two miles
off the port, under sail, and heading for the harbour in company with a
British sloop-of-war. She had been recaptured, and ere the news of her
audacious seizure had reached the ears of more than a few of the
townspeople she was back again in her former berth, and safely moored by
chains to the quay.
It was clear to me, and to the rest of the _Weymouth's_ crew, when we
mustered that same morning to be paid off, that the incident had
inflicted a terribly severe shock upon Mr White's nerves. The poor old
boy looked a good ten years older than when he had boarded us in the
roads on the previous afternoon and had shaken hands with Captain Winter
as he welcomed him home and congratulated him upon having successfully
eluded the enemy's cruisers and privateers; but there was a fierce
glitter in his eyes and a firm, determined look about his mouth which I,
for one, took as an indication that the fright, severe as it undoubtedly
was, had not quelled the old man's courage.
The capture of the ship by the Frenchmen occurred during the early hours
of a Friday morning; and on the following Tuesday evening I received a
message from Mr White, asking me to call upon him, at his office, next
day at noon. Punctual to the moment, I presented myself, and was at
once ushered into the old gentleman's private sanctum, where I found my
employer seated at his desk, with several bundles of papers lying before
him. He shook hands with me very cordially, and signed to me to be
seated.
"Let me see, George," he commenced. "Your indentures will soon expire,
will they not?"
"Yes, Mr White," I answered. "I shall be out of my time on the
sixteenth of next month."
"Just so; just so. I thought that they would have about a month to run;
but have been too busy the last few days to ascertain the precise date.
Well, George," he continued, "I have come to the conclusion that the
_Weymouth_ must be laid up, for the present at all events. Her capture
the other night has opened my eyes more completely than they have ever
been opened before, to the risk of working an unarmed ship during war-
time. Were I to continue to do so, and the ship should happen to be
captured, it would go far toward ruining me; and I am too old to endure
such a loss; so I have made up my mind to lay up the _Weymouth_ while
the war lasts. But there is good money to be made, even in war-time, if
a man goes the right way to work. Privateering is a very profitable
business when it can be carried on successfully; and success depends as
much as anything upon the kind of men employed. I have been having a
chat with Captain Winter upon the subject, with the result that I have
purchased the schooner that they are now finishing off in Martin's
building-yard; and I intend to fit her out as a privateer; that being
the kind of work, in fact, that she has been especially built for.
Captain Winter will have the command of her, of course, with Mr Lovell
as chief mate; and, George, upon the captain's very strong
recommendation, I have determined to offer you the berth of second mate.
It will take more than a month to complete the schooner and fit her for
sea; and by that time your indentures will have expired. Captain Winter
gives you a most excellent character, and has recommended you for the
berth; and from what I have seen of you, my lad, I have come to the
conclusion that I shall not go very far wrong in giving it to you. Nay,
you owe me no thanks, boy; you have earned the refusal of the offer by
your steadiness and industry, so it is yours, freely, if you like to
have it. I do not want you to make up your mind and answer me yea or
nay upon the spur of the moment; take a little time to consider the
matter if you like, and let me know by the end of the week."
I needed no time for consideration, however; the offer was altogether
too good and advantageous in every way to be left hanging in the
balance, as it were. I therefore thankfully accepted it on the spot,
and the question of pay and prize-money then being gone into and settled
upon a very satisfactory basis, so far as I was concerned, I took my
leave, and hurried off home to acquaint my relatives with my good
fortune.
Now the reader will have gathered from the foregoing that at the period
of the opening of my story I was a sailor, and quite a young man; and
probably I need say but little more to complete the acquaintance thus
begun.
My name is George Bowen, and I was the only son of my father, Captain
Bowen, who was believed to have been drowned at sea--his ship never
having been heard of after leaving England for the South Seas--when I
was a little chap of only six years old. My sister Dora was born just
about the time that it was supposed my father must have perished, and a
year later my poor mother died, broken-hearted at the loss of a husband
that she positively idolised. Thus, we two--Dora and I--were left
orphans at a very early age, and were forthwith taken into the motherly
care of Aunt Sophie, who had no children of her own. Poor Aunt Sophie!
I am afraid I led her a terrible life; for I was, almost from my birth,
a big, strong, high-spirited boy, impatient of control, and resolute to
have my own way. But Dora--ah! Dora, with her sweet, docile
disposition, made ample amends for all my shortcomings, and in the end,
by her gentle persuasiveness, did much to subdue my rebellious spirit
and render me amenable to domestic discipline.
We were both exceptionally well educated, as education went then; for
Uncle Jack--Aunt Sophie's husband--was a clever, long-headed fellow, who
believed that it was not possible for a man to know too much; so Dora,
in addition to receiving a sound English education, was taught French,
music, and, in fact, the general run of what was then known as
"accomplishments", while I, in addition also to a good sound English
education, was taught French, Latin, and mathematics, including
geometry, algebra, and trigonometry. I was allowed to continue at
school until my fourteenth birthday, when, in consequence of my strong
predilection for the sea as a profession, I was apprenticed by Uncle
Jack to Mr White for a period of seven years. The first year of my
apprenticeship was spent aboard a collier, trading between the Tyne and
Weymouth; then I was transferred for three years to a Levant trader; and
finally I was promoted--as I considered it--into the _Weymouth_, West
Indiaman, which brings me back to the point from whence this bit of
explanation started.
The modest cottage which I called home was situated in the picturesque
little village of Wyke; I had therefore a walk of some two miles before
me when I left Mr White's office; and as I sped along the road I
beguiled the way by building the most magnificent of castles in the air.
After the brief peace of Amiens, war had again broken out in May of the
preceding year; and everybody was of opinion that the struggle which
then commenced was destined to be of quite exceptional duration and
severity. Then, again, it was well-known that Spain was only waiting
for a sufficiently plausible pretext to declare war against us; and that
pretext, it was believed, would be found in the capture by a British
squadron of the three Spanish treasure-ships _Medea_, _Clara_, and
_Fama_, news of which had just reached England. All this was of course
simply disastrous from a commercial point of view; but for navy men and
privateersmen it opened up a long vista of opportunities to win both
distinction and fortune; for it gave us the marine commerce of three
rich and powerful nations--France, Holland, and Spain--as a lawful prey.
Fortunes of almost fabulous magnitude had been made by lucky
privateersmen during the last war; and was there not even then living in
Weymouth the heroic Captain Tizard, who had captured a Spanish Plate
ship and sailed into Plymouth Sound with his prize in tow, and a massive
gold candlestick glittering at each mast-head? And if others had done
such things, why not we? I knew Captain Winter for a man who not only
had every detail of his profession at his fingers' ends, but who also
combined the highest courage with the nicest discretion and a subtlety
of resource that had already served us in good stead on more than one
occasion. Then there was Robert Lovell, our chief mate, late of the
_Weymouth_. He, like the captain, was a finished seaman; bold as a
lion; and knew exactly how to deal with a crew, encouraging those who
did their duty, while the idle skulkers found in him a terrible enemy.
Our late second mate--a man named Penrose, who had only been one voyage
with us--had not given the skipper satisfaction; he had proved to be
untrustworthy, overbearing, obstinate, unscrupulous, and altogether
objectionable, so I was not at all surprised to find that he had been
passed over; but it was a surprise, and a most agreeable one, too, to
learn that the captain had recommended me in place of him. It was a
responsible post, more so even than that of second mate in an ordinary
trader; but I had no fear of myself, and was quite determined to leave
nothing undone to justify "the old man's" recommendation.
Thus pondering, I soon found myself at home. Truth compels me to admit
that I was greatly disappointed with the reception that my good news met
with at the hands of Aunt Sophie and Dora. Instead of congratulating me
they wept! wept because I was so soon to leave them again, and because
of the dangerous character of my new berth! They declared their
conviction that I should be killed by the first enemy that we might
happen to fall in with; or, if I were fortunate enough to escape death,
that I should be brought home to them a miserable, helpless cripple,
minus a leg and arm or two, and all that Uncle Jack and I could say
failed to shake that conviction. Dora even went so far as to endeavour
to coax me to decline the berth; and only desisted upon my
representation that, were I so foolish as to do so, I should inevitably
be snapped up by the press-gang. That, and the indisputable fact--which
they appeared to have forgotten--that there were at least a dozen men in
Weymouth alone who had gone through the whole of the last war without
receiving so much as a scratch, brought them to regard the matter
somewhat more resignedly; and at length, when they had all but cried
themselves blind, Uncle Jack's cheery and sanguine arguments began to
tell upon them so effectually, that they dried their tears and announced
their determination to hope for the best.
Strange to say, although I had been at home six days, I had hitherto
been so busy, running about with Dora and calling upon a rather numerous
circle of friends that, up to the time of receiving Mr White's offer, I
had not found time to do more than just become aware of the fact that
Mr Joe Martin, our local ship-builder, happened to have a very fine
craft upon the stocks, well advanced toward completion. Now, however,
that it had come about that I was to serve on board that same craft as
"dickey", I was all impatience to see what she was like; so, the next
day happening to be fine, I set off, the first thing after breakfast,
and, walking in to Weymouth, made my way straight to the shipyard. As I
reached the gates I caught my first near view of her, and stood
entranced. She was planked right up to her covering-board, and while
one strong gang of workmen was busy fitting her bulwarks, another gang,
upon stages, was hard at work caulking her, a third gang under her
bottom, having apparently just commenced the operation of coppering.
She was, consequently, not presented to my view in her most attractive
guise; nevertheless, she being entirely out of the water, I was able to
note all her beauties, and I fell in love with her on the spot. She was
a much bigger craft than I had expected to see; measuring, as I was
presently told, exactly two hundred and sixty-six tons. She was very
shallow, her load-line being only seven feet above the lowest part of
her unusually deep keel, but this was more than counterbalanced by her
extraordinary breadth of beam. She had a very long, flat floor, and,
despite her excessive beam, her lines were the finest that I had ever
seen--and that is saying a great deal, for I had seen in the West Indies
some of the most speedy slavers afloat. Altogether she impressed me as
a vessel likely to prove not only phenomenally fast but also a perfect
sea-boat. She was pierced for four guns of a side, with two stern-
chasers; and there was a pivot on her forecastle for a long eighteen-
pounder; she would therefore carry an armament formidable enough to
enable us to go anywhere and do anything--in reason. Having thoroughly
inspected her from outside, and gone down under her bottom, I next made
my way on board, and went down below to have a look at her interior
accommodation. This I found to be everything that could possibly be
desired; the arrangements had evidently been carefully planned with a
view to securing to the crew the maximum possible amount of comfort; the
cabins were large, and as lofty as the shallow depth of the vessel would
allow; there was every convenience in the state-rooms in the shape of
drawers, lockers, sofas, folding tables, shelves, cupboards, and so on;
and the living quarters were not only light, airy, and comfortable, but
were being finished off with great taste and considerable pretensions to
luxury. While I was prowling about below I encountered Harry Martin,
the son of the builder, who told me that Mr White, when completing the
purchase of the vessel, had given instructions that no reasonable
expense was to be spared in making the craft as thoroughly suitable as
possible for the service of a privateer. I spent fully two hours on
board, prying into every nook and cranny of the vessel, and making
myself thoroughly familiar with the whole of her interior arrangements,
and then left, well satisfied with my prospects as second mate of so
smart and comfortable a craft.
As I was crossing Hope Square, toward the foot of Scrambridge Hill, on
my way home again, I met Captain Winter, who, after congratulating me
upon my appointment, informed me that he had secured _carte blanche_
from the owner as to the number of the crew, and that he was determined
to have the vessel strongly manned enough to enable her to keep at sea
even after sending away a prize crew or two. He was therefore anxious
to secure as many good men as possible, and he suggested that I could
not better employ my spare time than in looking about for such, and
sending to him as many as I could find. This I did; and as the skipper
and Mr Lovell, the chief mate, were both industriously engaged in the
same manner, we contrived, by the time that the schooner was ready for
sea, to scrape together a crew of ninety men, all told--a large
proportion of whom were Portlanders,--as fine fellows, for the most
part, as ever trod a plank.
The schooner was launched a fortnight from the day upon which I had
first visited her, and as she slid off the ways Joe Martin's youngest
daughter christened her, giving her the name of the _Dolphin_. She was
launched with her two lower-masts in, and was at once taken up the
harbour and moored opposite Mr White's warehouse, where the work of
rigging her and getting her guns and stores on board was forthwith
commenced. Thenceforward I was kept busy every day, assisting the
skipper and Mr Lovell in the task of fitting-out; and so diligently did
we work that by mid-day of the 26th of November the _Dolphin_ was all
ataunto and ready for sea. And a very handsome, rakish, and formidable
craft she looked, as she lay alongside the quay, her enormously long and
delicately-tapering masts towering high above the warehouse roof; her
wide-spreading yards, extending far over the quay, accurately squared;
her standing and running rigging as taut and straight as iron bars; her
ten long nine-pounders grinning beneath her triced-up port-lids; her
brightly-polished brass long eighteen-pounder mounted upon her
forecastle; her spacious deck scraped and scoured until it was as white
as snow; and her new copper and her black topsides gleaming and
shimmering in the gently-rippling tide. Day after day, as the work of
fitting-out progressed, the quay was crowded with people who came down
to watch our operations and admire the schooner; and so favourable was
the impression she created that, had we been in want of men, we could
have secured volunteers in plenty from among the idlers who spent day
after day alongside, watching us at work, and speculating among
themselves--with their hands in their pockets--as to the measure of
success that our bold venture was likely to meet with.
When we knocked off work at noon, to go to dinner, our work was
completed; and as Mr White had taken care to secure our letters-of-
marque in good time, it was determined that the _Dolphin_ should proceed
to sea that same evening, the crew having already signed articles, and
been warned to hold themselves in readiness for a start at a moment's
notice. As for me, my traps were already on board, and nicely arranged
in my cabin--my sister Dora having, with her usual tenderness of
affection, insisted upon attending to this matter herself--there was
therefore nothing for me to do but to go home, say good-bye, and rejoin
the ship. This ceremony I had always found to be a most painful
business; but it was especially so in the present case; for I was not
only once more about to brave the ordinary perils incidental to a
sailor's life, but was, in addition, to be exposed to the still greater
hazards involved in battle with the enemy. Poor Dora and my aunt were
but too well aware, from the experience of others in the last war, what
these hazards were; they knew how many men had gone out from their
homes, hale, strong, and full of enthusiasm, either to find death in
their first engagement, or to be brought back, sooner or later, maimed,
helpless, and physically ruined for the remainder of their lives; and,
as tender, loving women will, they anticipated one or another of these
evils for me, and were therefore distressed beyond all hope of comfort.
Nor could I shut my eyes to the possibility that their forebodings might
come true, and that I might therefore be looking upon their dear faces
for the last time. To bid them farewell, therefore, and tear myself
from their clinging arms was a most painful business; and it was not
until I had returned to the _Dolphin_, and was busying myself about the
final preparations for our departure, that I was able in some degree to
recover my equanimity and get rid of the troublesome lump that would
keep rising in my throat.
CHAPTER TWO.
A FOGGY NIGHT IN THE CHANNEL.
The town clock was striking four when, the muster roll having been
called and all hands being found to be on board, we cast off the shore-
fasts and, under the influence of a light, keen, frosty air from the
northward, went gliding down the harbour under mainsail and flying-jib,
fully two hundred people following us along the quay and cheering us as
we went. The _Dolphin_ was the first privateer that Weymouth had fitted
out since the last declaration of war, and the enthusiasm was intense;
for, in addition to the foregoing circumstance, she was the largest,
most powerful, and most heavily-manned privateer that had ever sailed
out of the port; our full complement numbering no less than ninety, all
told, including a surgeon, every one of whom was either a Weymouth or a
Portland man; consequently there were plenty of friends and relatives to
see us start and bid us God-speed.
Upon clearing the harbour all sail was at once made upon the schooner,
our object being, of course, to reach the open channel as quickly as
possible--when we might hope to fall athwart a prize at any moment,--and
a noble picture we must have made as, edging away to pass out round
Portland, our noble spaces of new, white canvas were expanded one after
the other, until we were under all plain sail, to our royal.
The day had been one of those quiet grey days that occasionally occur
about the latter end of November; the sky a pallid, shapeless canopy of
colourless cloud through which the sun at long intervals became faintly
distinguishable for a few minutes at a time, then vanished again. There
was little or no wind to speak of, the faint breathing that prevailed
being from the northward. The air was very keen, the atmosphere so
thick that our horizon was contracted to a limit of scarcely three
miles, and it looked very much as though, with nightfall, we should have
a fog. The moon was a long time past the full, and the small crescent
to which she had been reduced would not rise until very late; there was
a prospect, therefore, that the coming night would be both dark and
thick; just the kind of night, in fact, when we might hope to blunder up
against a ship belonging to the enemy, and take her by surprise.
Captain Winter's plan was to run across to the French coast, make
Cherbourg, and then cruise to the westward, in the hope that, by so
doing, we should either pick up a French homeward-bound merchantman, or
succeed in recapturing one of the prizes that the French privateers
occasionally captured in the Channel and generally sent into Cherbourg
or Saint Malo. Should we fail in this, his next project was to cruise
in the chops of the Channel for a fortnight, and then return to Weymouth
to replenish our stores and water; it being hoped that by that time
something definite would be known as to the prospects of war with Spain.
Our course took us close past the easternmost extremity of Portland--the
highest point of the miscalled "island"; and by the time that we had
drifted across the bay--for our progress could scarcely be called more
than drifting--the fog had settled down so thickly that, had we not by
good fortune happened to have heard two men calling to each other
ashore, we should have plumped the schooner on to the rocks at the base
of the cliff before seeing the land. Even as it was, it was touch and
go with us; for although the helm was put hard a-starboard at the first
sound of the mens' voices, we were so close in that, as the schooner
swerved heavily round, we just grazed a great rock, the head of which
was sticking out of the water. But we now knew pretty well where we
were, and hauling well off the land, out of further danger, we shaped a
course that would take us well clear of the Shambles, and so stretched
away athwart the Channel.
By the time that we had hauled off the land about a mile it had fallen
as dark as a wolf's mouth, with a fog so thick that, what with it and
the darkness together, it was impossible to see as far as the foremast
from the main rigging, while the wind had fallen so light that our
canvas flapped and rustled with every heave of the schooner upon the
short Channel swell; yet, by heaving the log, we found that the
_Dolphin_ was slinking through the water at the rate of close upon three
knots in the hour, while she was perfectly obedient to her helm. The
most profound silence prevailed fore and aft; for Captain Winter had
given instructions that the bells were not to be struck, and that all
orders were to be passed quietly along the deck by word of mouth. The
binnacle light was also carefully masked, and the skylight obscured by a
close-fitting painted canvas cover that had been made for the express
purpose. There was, therefore, nothing whatever to betray our presence
except the soft rustling of our canvas, and, as the same sounds would
prevail on board any other craft that might happen to drift within our
vicinity, we were in hopes that, by keeping our ears wide open, we might
become aware of their presence before our own was betrayed. It is true
that these precautions greatly increased the risk of collision with
other vessels; but we trusted that the watchfulness upon which we
depended for the discovery of other craft in our neighbourhood would
suffice to avert any such danger.
In this way the time slowly dragged along until midnight, when I was
called to take charge of the deck. Upon turning out I found that there
was no improvement in the weather, except that the faint breathing from
the northward had strengthened sufficiently to put our canvas to sleep,
and to increase our speed to a trifle over six knots; but it was just as
dark and thick as ever. Lovell, whom I was relieving, informed me that
nothing whatever had been seen or heard during his watch; and that now,
by our dead reckoning, we were, as nearly as possible, thirty miles
south-by-west of Portland Bill. The skipper was still on deck; he had
been up all through the first watch, and announced his intention of
keeping the deck until the weather should clear. The night was now
bitterly cold and frosty; the rail, the ropes coiled upon the pins, the
companion slide, even the glass of the binnacle, all were thickly coated
with rime, and the decks were slippery with it.
It was close upon two bells; and everything on board the _Dolphin_ was
silent as the grave, no sound being audible save the soft seething of
the water past the bends, and the "gush" of the wave created by the
plunge of the schooner's sharp bows into the hollows of the swell, when
the skipper, who was standing near me on the starboard side of the
binnacle, sucking away at a short pipe, caught hold of my arm and said
in a low tone:
"Listen, Bowen! you have sharp ears. Tell me if you hear anything
hereaway on the starboard bow?"
I listened intently for some seconds without hearing anything, and was
about to say so, when I thought I caught a faint sound, as of the
creaking of a boom; and at the same instant the two look-out men on the
forecastle, forgetting, in the imminence of the danger, their
instructions to be silent, simultaneously shouted, in sharp incisive
tones:
"Hard a-port! Hard over! there's a big ship right under our bow!"
There was nothing whatever to be seen from where the skipper and I
stood, but the cry was too imperative to be neglected; I therefore
sprang with one bound to the wheel and assisted the helmsman to put it
hard over, while the skipper rushed forward to see for himself what it
was that was reported to be in our way.
I had but grasped the spokes of the wheel when I heard a cry, close
ahead of us of:
"There's a small craft close aboard of us on our larboard beam, sir!"
followed by a confused rush of feet along a ship's deck, and an order to
"put the helm hard a-starboard, and call the captain!"
These sounds appeared to be so close aboard of us that I involuntarily
braced myself against the expected impact of the two vessels; but the
next moment, through the dense fog, I saw the faint glimmer of a light
opening out clear of our foremast, saw a huge, dark, shapeless blot go
drifting away on to our port bow, and heard a sharp hail from the
stranger.
"Schooner ahoy! What schooner is that?"
"The _Dolphin_, privateer, of Weymouth. What ship is that?" answered
the skipper.
"The _Hoogly_, East Indiaman; Calcutta to London. Can you tell me
whereabouts we are?"
"Thirty-six miles south-by-west of Portland Bill," answered the skipper.
"Much obliged to you, sir," came the faint acknowledgment from the
Indiaman, already out of sight again in the fog. This was followed by
some further communication--apparently a question, from the tone of
voice,--but the two vessels had by this time drawn so far apart from
each other that the words were unintelligible, and the captain made no
endeavour to reply; coming aft again and resuming his former position
near the binnacle.
He and I were still discussing in low tones our narrow escape from a
disastrous collision, some ten minutes having elapsed since we had lost
sight of the _Hoogly_, when suddenly a faint crash was heard, somewhere
away on our port quarter, immediately followed by shouts and cries, and
a confused popping of pistols, which lasted about a minute; when all
became as suddenly silent again.
"Hillo!" ejaculated the skipper, turning hastily to the binnacle, as the
first sounds were heard, and taking the bearing of them, as nearly as
possible; "there's something wrong with the Indiaman; it sounds very
much as though one of the rascally, prowling, French lugger privateers
had run him aboard and--"
"D'ye hear that rumpus away out on the larboard quarter, sir?" hailed
one of the men on the forecastle.
"Ay, ay, my lad, we hear it; we're not asleep at this end of the ship!"
answered Winter. "Depend upon it, George," he continued to me, "the
_Hoogly_ has been boarded and carried by a Frenchman. There!" as the
sounds ceased, "it is all over, whatever it is. We will haul up a bit,
and see if we can discover what has happened. Starboard, my man!" to
the man at the wheel; "starboard, and let her come up to full and by.
Hands to the sheets and braces, Mr Bowen. Brace sharp up on the
larboard tack; and then let the men cast loose the guns and load them.
Call all hands quietly, and let them go to quarters."
The skipper peered into the binnacle again.
"Nor'-east, half east!" he continued, referring to the direction in
which the schooner was now heading: "If we are in luck we ought to come
athwart the Indiaman again in about twenty minutes--that is to say, if
they have hove her to in order to transfer the prisoners."
He pulled out his watch, noted the time, and replaced the watch in his
pocket. "Just slip for'ard, Mr Bowen, and caution the hands to be as
quiet as possible over their work," said he. "And give the look-out men
a hint to keep their eyes skinned. The French have undoubtedly taken
the Indiaman by surprise; now we must see if we cannot give the
Frenchmen a surprise in turn."
I went forward to execute my orders; and upon my return found the
skipper, watch in hand, talking to the chief mate, who, with the rest of
the watch below, had been called. Meanwhile the crew were at quarters,
and, having cast loose the guns, were busily loading them, the work
being carried on as quietly as possible. As I rejoined the skipper, the
arms-chest was brought on deck; and in a few minutes each man was armed
with a cutlass and a brace of pistols.
By the time that these preparations were completed, the twenty minutes
allowed us by Captain Winter to reach the scene of the recent
disturbance had elapsed, and our topsail was laid to the mast, the word
being passed along the deck for absolute silence to be maintained, and
for each man to listen with all his ears, and to come aft and report if
he heard any sound. Then we all fell to listening with bated breath;
but not a sound was to be heard save the gurgle and wash of the water
about the rudder as the schooner rose and fell gently to the lift of the
sea.
In this way a full quarter of an hour was allowed to elapse, at the
expiration of which the skipper remarked:
"Well, it is clear that, wherever the Indiaman may be, she is not
hereabout. If, as I believe, she has been attacked, and has beaten the
Frenchman off, she has of course proceeded on up channel; but if she has
been taken, her captors have evidently headed at once for some French
port, possibly having been near enough to have heard the hails that
passed between us. If that was the case they would naturally be anxious
to get away from the neighbourhood of their exploit as quickly as
possible, for fear of being interfered with. And, assuming this
supposition of mine to be correct, they will be certain to make for the
nearest French port; which, in this case, is Cherbourg. We will
therefore resume our course toward Cherbourg, when, if we are lucky, we
may get a sight of both the Indiaman and the privateer at daybreak, if
this confounded fog will only lift."
We accordingly squared away once more upon our former course, which we
followed until morning without hearing or seeing anything of the vessels
for which we were looking.
This being our first night out, and my watch being the starboard watch,
I was relieved by Lovell at four o'clock a.m., and under ordinary
circumstances should not have been called until seven bells, or half-
past seven. But I was not greatly surprised when, on being called, I
found that it was still dark, the time being five bells. It was Lovell
who called me.
"George!" he exclaimed, shaking me by the shoulder. "George! rouse and
bitt, my lad; tumble out! The fog is clearing away, and the cap'n
expects to make out the Indiaman at any moment, so it's `all hands'.
Hurry up, my hearty!"
"Ay, ay," grumbled I, only half awake; "I'll be up in a brace of
shakes."
And as Lovell quitted my cabin and returned to the deck, I rolled out of
my bunk and hurriedly began to dress by the lamp that the chief mate had
been considerate enough to light for my convenience.
When I went on deck I found that, as Lovell had stated, the fog was
clearing away, a few stars showing out here and there overhead; moreover
the wind had hauled round from the eastward and was now blowing a fresh
topgallant breeze that had already raised a short choppy sea, over which
the _Dolphin_ was plunging as lightly and buoyantly as a sea-gull, doing
her seven knots easily, although the skipper had taken all the square
canvas off her, letting her go along under mainsail, foresail, staysail,
and jibs. There was nothing to be seen, as the fog still lay thick on
the water; but there were indications that it would probably lift before
long, and Captain Winter had therefore ordered all hands to be called,
so that we might be ready for any emergency that might arise.
"Sorry to have been obliged to disturb you, George, before your time,"
said the skipper, as I appeared on deck; "but the fog shows signs of
clearing, and I want to be ready to act decisively the moment that we
catch sight of the Indiaman."
"Quite so, sir," I replied. "Where do you expect to make her?"
"Ah!" he answered; "that's just the question that has been puzzling me.
We did not see enough of her last night to enable us to judge very
accurately what her rate of sailing may be; but I rather fancy, from the
glimpse we caught of her, that she is something of a slow ship, and, if
so, we may have run past her. At the same time, if the French have got
hold of her--of which I have very little doubt--they would be pretty
certain to crowd sail upon her in order to get well over toward their
own coast before daylight. I have shortened sail, as you see, so as to
reduce our own speed as nearly as possible to what I judge hers will be;
but this schooner is a perfect flyer--there's no holding her,--and it
would not surprise me a bit to find that we have shot ahead of the
chase. I feel more than half inclined to heave-to for a short time; but
Lovell thinks that the Indiaman is still ahead of us somewhere."
"Well," said I, "we ought to see something of her before long, for it is
clearing fast overhead, and it appears to me that, even down here on the
water, I can see further than I could when I first came on deck."
It was evident that the skipper was very fidgety, so I thought I would
not further unsettle him by obtruding my own opinion--which coincided
with his--upon him; therefore, finding him slightly disposed to be
taciturn, I left him, and made the round of the deck, assuring myself
that all hands were on the alert, and ready to go to quarters at any
moment. I passed forward along the starboard side of the deck, noticing
as I did so that there was a faint lightening in the fog away to
windward, showing that the dawn was approaching; and as I turned on the
forecastle to go aft again, I observed that the fog was thinning away
famously on the weather quarter. As I walked aft I kept my eyes
intently fixed on this thin patch, which appeared to be a small but
widening break in the curtain of vapour that enveloped us, for it was
evidently drifting along with the wind. I had reached as far aft as the
main rigging, still staring into the break, when I suddenly halted, for
it struck me that there was a small, faint blotch of darker texture in
the heart of it, away about three points on our weather quarter. Before
I could be quite certain about the matter, however, the blotch, if such
it was, had become merged and lost again in the thicker body of fog that
followed in the track of the opening. But while I was still debating
within myself whether I should say anything about what I fancied I had
seen, I became aware of a much larger and darker blot slowly looming up
through the leeward portion of the break, and apparently drifting across
it to windward, though this effect was, I knew, due to the leeward drift
of the break. This time I felt that there was no mistake about it, and
I accordingly cried:
"Sail ho! a large ship about a point on our weather quarter!"
And I hurried aft to point it out to the skipper before it should vanish
again. He looked in the direction toward which I was pointing, but was
unable to see anything, his eyes being dazzled in consequence of his
having been staring, in a fit of abstraction, at the illuminated
compass-card in the binnacle. Neither could Lovell see anything; and
while I was still endeavouring to direct their gaze to it, it
disappeared.
"Are you quite certain that your eyes were not deceiving you, Mr
Bowen?" demanded the skipper rather pettishly.
"Absolutely certain, sir," I replied. "And what is more, I believe it
to be the Indiaman; for just before sighting her I fancied I saw another
and smaller craft about two points further to windward, and astern of
the bigger ship; and I am now of opinion that what I saw was a lugger."
"Ay," retorted the skipper; "you fancied you saw a lugger; and so,
perhaps, under the circumstances, would naturally fancy also that you
saw the Indiaman. Did anybody else see anything like a sail astern of
us?" he demanded in a low voice, addressing the crew.
"Yes, sir," answered a voice from the forecastle. "I looked directly
that I heard Mr Bowen sing out, and I fancied that I saw something
loomin' up dark through the fog on the weather quarter."
"Another fancy!" ejaculated the skipper. "However," he continued, "you
may be right, Mr Bowen, after all. How far do you suppose the stranger
to have been away from us?"
"Probably a matter of three miles or thereabout," I answered. "The
smaller craft would perhaps be a mile, or a mile and a half astern of
her."
"Then," said the skipper, "we will haul the fore-sheet to windward, let
our jib-sheets flow, and wait a quarter of an hour to see what comes of
it. If you are correct in your surmise, Mr Bowen, we ought to see
something of these strangers of yours by that time."
"And I have no doubt we shall, sir," answered I. "And if I may be
allowed to offer a suggestion, it is that we should bring the schooner
to the wind, so that she may eat out to windward of the Indiaman, all
ready for bearing up and running her aboard when she heaves in sight."
"A very good idea, Mr Bowen! we will do so," answered the skipper.
The main- and fore-sheets were accordingly flattened in, when the
schooner luffed up to about south-east, and slowly forged to windward,
athwart what I believed to be the track of the Indiaman.
Meanwhile, the dawn was coming slowly, while the fog was gradually
thinning away under the influence of the freshening breeze, so that we
were by this time able to distinguish the heads of the breaking waves at
a distance of fully half a mile. As for me, I kept my eyes intently
fixed upon the grey cloud of vapour that went drifting away to leeward
past our weather quarter; and presently, when we had been hove-to about
ten minutes, I caught sight of a thickening in the fog thereaway that,
even as I looked, began to grow darker and assume a definite shape.
"There she is, sir!" I exclaimed, pointing out the darkening blot to
the skipper; and by the time that he had found it, that same blot had
strengthened into the misty outline of a large ship under studding-
sails, running before the wind, and steering a course that would bring
her diagonally athwart our stern, and within biscuit-toss of our lee
quarter.
"Ay! there she is, sure enough!" responded the skipper eagerly. "Now,"
he continued, "the next thing is to find out whether she is the Indiaman
or not, without arousing the suspicions of those aboard her. Haul aft
your lee-jib and fore-sheets, there, my lads; we must not present the
appearance of lying in wait for her. Luff all you can without shaking,"
to the man at the wheel; "I do not want the schooner to move fast
through the water. We must let yonder ship pass near enough to us, if
possible, to be able to read the name on her stern."
"I do not think there is much doubt about her being the Indiaman, sir,"
said I; "for if you will look out here, broad on our weather quarter,
you will see what I take to be the lugger that has captured her."
"Ay, true enough, I do see something! You have sharp eyes, George, and
no mistake," answered the skipper. "Yes, there certainly is something
there; and, as you say, it looks uncommonly like a lugger! Well, she is
a good two miles off. We shall have time to run the big fellow aboard
and take her before that lugger is near enough to trouble us. Stand by,
there, some of you, to jump aloft and loose the topsail when I give the
word. Hillo, what is that? A gun from the lugger, by the hookey! They
have made us out, and don't like the look of us, apparently, so they
have fired a gun to wake up the people aboard the prize. Ha! now they
have seen us aboard the big ship too, and are taking in their stunsails,
to haul to the wind, I suppose. But you are too late, my hearties!"
apostrophising the ship, now less than a cable's length from us; "you
will be to leeward of us in another two minutes. Boy, bring me my
glass. You will find it slung in beckets in the companion."
On came the ship, near enough now for us to see that she was undoubtedly
an Indiaman, and as undoubtedly British. The people on board her were
evidently in a great flusteration, for they had started to take in all
the studding-sails at once, and a pretty mess they were making of the
job, most of the studding-sails having blown forward over the fore side
of the booms. While they were still battling with the unruly canvas the
ship swept, yawing wildly, close past our lee quarter; so close, indeed,
that no glasses were required, for even in the faint light of the
growing dawn it was possible to read with the unaided eye the gilt
lettering on her stern--"_Hoogly, London_."
CHAPTER THREE.
OUR FIRST SUCCESS.
"That settles the matter for good and all!" exclaimed the skipper, now
in rare good-humour, as he pointed to the Indiaman's stern. "Up with
your helm, my man," to the man at the wheel; "let her go broad off. We
will pass under the Indiaman's stern, and board her from to leeward.
Away aloft there and let fall the topsail, some of you. Mr Lovell, you
will take twenty men--I don't suppose there are above forty Frenchmen
aboard that craft--and board by the main and mizzen chains as we touch.
You will have to be smart about it, as I do not want to remain
alongside, grinding the schooner's side to pieces, a moment longer than
is absolutely necessary. Take the ship; and, as soon as you have
secured possession and driven the prize crew below, haul your wind,
keeping us between you and the lugger. The moment that you and your
party are aboard I shall haul off; and you may leave me to deal with
that fellow to windward. You will make the best of your way to
Weymouth, of course. See that your men freshen the priming of their
pistols at once; and then station them, half by the main rigging, and
half by the fore, ready to jump at the word."
"Ay, ay, sir!" responded Lovell, as he hastened away to select his
twenty men. The topsail was by this time sheeted home, and the men were
mast-heading the yard. The skipper sprang upon the rail, steadying
himself by the weather main swifter, to con our schooner alongside; and
I, in obedience to an order from him, went forward and gave the word for
those who were not of the boarding-party to arm themselves with muskets,
and pick off any of the Frenchmen who might show their heads above the
rail.