We must for a time follow the fortunes of Charles Denham. Those were
days of rapid promotion, when an officer's name stood well at the
Admiralty. The young commander had not long served his time on board
the corvette before he received his post rank. Scarcely twelve years
had passed since he first stepped on board a man-of-war as a young
seaman before the mast, when he found himself in command of a fine
frigate of thirty-six guns--the _Isabel_. Ned Davis, who had followed
him into every ship in which he served, now, by his advice, having
applied for a warrant, was appointed boatswain to the _Isabel_.
Although Denham had attained what might be considered the height of his
ambition, he hoped, while in command of the frigate, to make a still
higher name for himself. Opportunities of doing so were not likely to
be wanting. England had enemies in all directions, and there was every
probability that a fine dashing frigate like the _Isabel_ would soon
meet with a foe well worthy of her. She was, however, much to the
disappointment of her commander and crew, sent to the Mediterranean,
which, by that time, had been pretty well cleared of all England's
enemies. There was work, however, to be done, and whatever Denham was
ordered to do he performed it well. Having, at length, come home with
despatches, he was sent to the West Indies, where he had already seen a
good deal of service.
During this time he had few opportunities of hearing from the Earl of
Kilfinnan, to whom, however, he occasionally wrote, and got a kind
answer in return. Again, after nearly four years' service, he was on
his way home. When about three parts across the Atlantic, the weather
for some time before having been very bad, a ship was reported right
ahead. As the frigate approached her, she was seen to have her ensign
downwards, as a signal of distress. She appeared to be a large
merchantman. Her topmasts were gone, and she had, in other ways,
evidently suffered from the heavy weather. As soon as the frigate drew
near enough, she was hove to, and a boat being lowered, she was sent on
board the stranger. As the officer in command of the boat stepped on
board the ship, he was struck by the fearful appearance it presented. A
few of the crew, pale and emaciated, were dragging themselves about the
deck, scarcely able to stand upright, while on mattresses placed close
to the bulwarks were numerous human beings, some apparently dead, others
dying, moaning fearfully and in plaintive voices, petitioning for water.
It was a long time before the lieutenant could get any one to explain
what had happened. The captain, it appeared, had died, and so had most
of the officers and the passengers. Their bodies had been thrown
overboard. Great was his horror when he at length ascertained that they
were suffering from the yellow fever. The weather was very hot, and it
was but too likely even that this short visit to the pest-infested ship
might cause him to convey it to the crew of the frigate. What, however,
was to be done? He could not leave the unfortunate people on board the
merchantman to perish by themselves, without help; while, should he
remain, he and those with him might catch the same complaint. He found
on inquiry that several persons were down below who had hitherto escaped
the pestilence. At length, uncertain how to act, he returned on board
the _Isabel_, to receive instructions from his captain. The surgeon of
the frigate was of opinion that the only safe plan was thoroughly to
fumigate the vessel, and put a prize crew on board, to navigate her to
an English port, as it would be unsafe to take any of the people out of
her. This plan was followed, and an officer with twelve men went on
board to carry the ship to Bristol.
It was hoped that from the short time the lieutenant and his men were on
board no infection could have been conveyed from her to the frigate.
Before two days, however, had passed these hopes were found to be
fallacious. Two of the men who had been on board the merchantman were
seized with the fearful complaint, and the following day were corpses.
Several others in the course of a few hours were seized in the same
manner. Their illnesses in each case terminated fatally. As is often
the case, a panic seized the whole crew, and men who would have faced an
enemy boldly, trembled at the thoughts of the attacks of this unseen
foe. The captain and officers had tried to encourage them and revive
their spirits; but all seemed in vain. Not a day passed without several
of the men being committed to the deep, and no one knew who would be the
next victim. The surgeon declared his belief that the seeds of the
disease must have been contracted in the West Indies, as it was
impossible it could have been communicated by the people of the
merchantman.
"Let the cause be what it may, the best hope we have of getting free of
the fever is to meet an enemy of equal size to ourselves; and, then,
while we are fighting him, I have no doubt that `Yellow Jack' will take
to flight," observed the captain.
At length a breeze sprang up, and although the disease had not
altogether ceased, it had considerably decreased. A sharp look-out was
kept at all hours for any sail which might appear on the horizon. At
length one was observed in the south-west, and all sail was made in
chase. For some time probably the _Isabel_ was not seen by the vessel
she was chasing. The latter, however, was at length seen to make sail,
and to stand away to the west. The _Isabel_ was a fast vessel, and
every effort was now made to increase her speed. The sails were wetted,
every stitch of canvas she could carry was set, and every other device
adopted to urge her through the water.
In those days the engagements which had taken place between English and
French ships had terminated in most instances so disastrously to the
latter, that Napoleon, it was said, had ordered all his cruisers to
avoid fighting if they possibly could. This might have accounted for
the flight of the stranger; for as the _Isabel_ drew nearer, she was
discovered to be either a heavy frigate or a line-of-battle ship. On a
still nearer approach the French ensign flew out from her peak, and it
was ascertained, without doubt, that she was a large frigate, a worthy
antagonist for the _Isabel_. Superior as the enemy might be in guns and
in number of men, Captain Denham resolved to attack her. The engagement
he knew would be a severe one; but he trusted for victory to the tried
gallantry of his officers and crew, and the resolution with which they
would work the guns. He had the weather-gauge, and he hoped by skilful
manoeuvring to retain it. The enemy finding she could not escape, now
hauled up her courses, and made every preparation for battle. The
_Isabel_, when she drew near enough, at once opened fire to cripple her
antagonist, and to retain the position she now enjoyed. This first
broadside considerably cut up the Frenchman's rigging; but the fire the
_Isabel_ received in return did her still greater damage, badly wounding
the fore-topmast. Davis went aloft to examine it, and reported on his
return that he feared it would not stand much longer. Both the frigates
now standing on a wind, continued to exchange broadsides; the English
firing at the hull of their antagonist, while the Frenchman seemed to
aim more particularly at cutting up the masts and rigging of the English
ship.
"She seems to be full of men, and I suspect her object is to get
alongside, and to take us by boarding," observed the captain to his
first lieutenant.
"We will show them what British steel can do if they make the attempt,
sir," was the answer.
The Frenchman attempted to luff across the English ship's bow, in the
hopes of raking her, but Denham was too much on the watch to allow her
to execute this manoeuvre successfully. A considerable number of the
_Isabel's_ men had been killed. Still, her crew fought on with
undaunted courage. At length, her fore-topmast, which had before been
severely injured by a chain shot, came down with a crash upon the deck.
The Frenchmen shouted when they saw this, and another shout escaped them
when they saw the main-topmast follow the fate of the other mast.
"If they attempt to run us on board we will try to secure them, as we
did in the _Cynthia_," observed the captain. "If we let a few of the
Frenchmen come on board, we can quickly dispose of them, and then return
the compliment."
"Ay, ay, sir," answered the lieutenant; "I will give the order to the
men to prepare for boarding. They are ready enough for it."
Scarcely had he spoken, when the French frigate, luffing up, ran her
bows against the quarter of the _Isabel_. She was immediately secured
there by Davis and others; and now the Frenchmen came rushing over the
bows, expecting to make her an easy prize.
"Boarders, repel boarders," shouted the first lieutenant.
"I will lead you, my men," cried the captain, springing to the side.
A few Frenchmen who had gained the deck of the _Isabel_ were immediately
cut down; and now the English in turn swarmed over the enemy's bows. In
spite of all opposition, they worked their way aft. No power seemed
capable of resisting them. Although the Frenchmen for some time stood
their ground, they were driven back. Step by step the British
blue-jackets fought their way, and numbers sank before the sturdy blows
of their cutlasses. Many of the Frenchmen were armed with pistols, by
which several of the English were wounded. During this time Davis had
ever kept close by the side of his commander. Captain Denham was
leading on his men, when suddenly his cutlass dropped from his hand, and
he would have fallen had not Davis supported him. At the same moment, a
tall Frenchman, with uplifted cutlass, was in the act of bringing it
down upon his head, when Davis, bringing his own weapon to the guard,
saved his captain, and with a return cut sent the Frenchman reeling
backwards.
"On, my lads, on," shouted the captain, again rising to his feet.
"Though I cannot use my sword, you can keep yours going instead."
The energy with which he spoke was infused into his followers, and
pushing onward they drove the Frenchmen before them. The Frenchmen,
encouraged by their officers, attempted to rally; but no sooner had they
done so, than, led by their gallant captain, the English made another
dash forward, and again drove them back. Meantime, the weather had been
changing, and the moderate breeze which had hitherto been blowing, was
followed by a heavy gale. Although the _Isabel_ was well-nigh
dismantled, she was still more than a match for her opponent. In a
short time, numbers of the Frenchmen having fallen, an officer was seen
to run aft and haul down the French flag. The prize was won. She
mounted four more guns than did the _Isabel_, with a far more numerous
crew. The prospect of bad weather made it necessary at once to send a
prize crew on board the captured frigate, and to remove the greater part
of her own people, so that a few Frenchmen only were left on board.
Great was the delight of the crew at finding, from the report of the
surgeon, that their captain's wound was not likely to prove serious,
though his arm might be disabled for some time.
The second lieutenant was ordered on board to carry the prize into
Plymouth, she having suffered but little damage in her rigging, while
her captor was in a far worse condition. Some time was occupied in
clearing away the wreck of the topmasts, and once more getting the ship
into order. The gale, however, fearfully increased, and the frigate in
an almost helpless condition, having lost sight of her prize, was driven
towards the coast of Ireland. Happily, the yellow fever had completely
disappeared; but Captain Denham had another cause of anxiety, lest his
ship might be driven on that rocky shore on which so many a fine vessel
has been lost. He anxiously looked out, therefore, for signs of the
gale breaking, and that he might be able once more to make sail and beat
off shore. His hopes, however, seemed likely to prove vain. The
morning dawned, and far away to the east as the eye could stretch,
appeared the high land of the Irish coast. He had hoped to have hauled
up sufficiently to have weathered Cape Clear. The gale continued till
the frigate was close in with the coast. Shipwreck now seemed
inevitable, for no other sail could be set to enable her to beat off
shore. There was a bay to the south, but that would now afford no
shelter, and no other harbour was open to her. It seemed impossible
that she could be saved. One only resource remained, to anchor and cut
away the masts. Orders were, therefore, given to prepare for this last
alternative. The cables were ranged along the deck, and spare anchors
got up from below. The dark seas came rolling in with unabated force
from the west, while they broke with terrific force on the rocky shore
under her lee. The spray dashed over her bows, flying fore and aft as
she forced her way gallantly through the seas. The gale still continued
with unabated force. Masses of clouds came rushing by overhead, rapidly
succeeding each other, while under her lee-bow appeared a long reef of
rocks, the dangers of which were well-known to many on board. Still,
hopes were entertained that she might be able to weather it. The eyes
of the master and other officers, indeed of most on board, were turned
now seaward, now to the rocky shore, and now to the reef on the lee
beam. There seemed to all but little prospect, unless by a sudden
change of wind, of being able to weather the latter.
"She would not stay if we were to attempt to go about," observed the
first lieutenant, "and there is no room to wear, or it might be better
if we were upon the other tack, so as to escape yonder threatening
reef."
"We may possibly weather the reef," observed the master; "but if we were
to attempt either to stay or to wear, we should inevitably be driven
upon the rocks."
Several of the best hands were at the helm, watching for the directions
of the master. Sometimes, after a slight shift in the wind, hopes were
entertained that the reef might be escaped; but then, again, it was
found she was making so much leeway that even this slight hope was
abandoned. Onward she rushed to her inevitable destruction, it seemed.
Meantime, the wounded commander had been lying in his cot. Several
times he had desired to be carried on deck, but the surgeon, who sat by
his side, entreated him to stop where he was, fearing the excitement
would be too great, and that his wounds, which had hitherto been going
on favourably, might take a turn for the worse.
"Then send the master to me," he said, "that I may learn the exact
position of the ship."
The master made his appearance.
"I wish she was in a better position than she is, sir," he observed;
"but we are doing all that men can do to claw off shore, and if we had
had our topmasts, there would have been no difficulty about the matter.
She makes fearful leeway, and there is an ugly reef ahead, which I do
not altogether like; but I have been in as bad a case before and
escaped, and I pray Heaven we may get clear this time."
"Doctor, you must let me go on deck, that I may see the worst. It is
torture to lie here below," exclaimed the wounded captain.
"But the master says, sir, that we have a prospect of hauling off shore,
and I again repeat that you would only incur great danger by exposing
yourself to the cold wind and spray that you would have to encounter.
No, no, sir; stay where you are, and let us hope for the best."
Many more anxious minutes passed. The master returned to his duty on
deck, and the captain, having full confidence in his judgment, would not
again send for him.
"Come, doctor, there are many poor fellows want your aid besides me; go
and look after them, I entreat you," he said at length. "They will give
me notice in time enough when all hope is gone, or, I trust, I may soon
hear that the ship has weathered the reef, and has brought up in the
bay."
Scarcely had he spoken when a loud roar of breakers reached even to
where he lay. A cry arose on deck, and the next instant there came a
fearful crash. The frigate had struck on the reef. The captain was
endeavouring to rise from his cot, when Davis rushed into the cabin.
"It is a bad case, captain!" he exclaimed; "but while I have life, you
know I will stay by you. We are not far from the shore, and maybe, if
the ship goes to pieces, some plank or timber may carry us there in
safety."
Denham allowed himself to be carried on deck, where Davis secured him to
the only portion of the wreck over which the sea did not break. The
captain gazed around. The ship had struck upon the much-dreaded reef.
Huge seas came rolling in, and, dashing against her with terrific force,
had already begun to tear away her upper works, and it was evident she
could not long remain in that position without going speedily to pieces.
Many of the crew had already been washed away; others were clinging to
different parts of the wreck. Some, including the officers, were
endeavouring, not far from the captain, to form a raft, on which they
hoped to reach the shore. It appeared, however, very doubtful whether
they would succeed.
"Let us chance it, sir," said Davis; "I will haul a grating here, and
put you on it. Maybe, we shall be safely washed on shore."
"No, no, Davis," answered the captain faintly; "you remember how the
brave Dutchman behaved when his ship was sinking. As long as two planks
hold together I will stay by the frigate, or till every one has left
her. You go, my friend; you are strong and unhurt, and, God protecting
you, you may still save your own life."
"What? leave you, sir? leave you, Captain Denham?" exclaimed Davis. "I
have not sailed with you for so many years to act thus at last. We swim
or sink together. I have never feared death, and he is not now going to
make me do a cowardly act."
"Well, well, Davis, I fear there is no use urging you. Perhaps, too, we
run as little risk here as we should struggling in those boiling seas,"
said the captain.
"Right, sir; the frigate is new and strong, and maybe, she will hold
together until the gale somewhat abates," answered the boatswain. "I
wish those poor fellows would stay on board with us; it might be the
better for them."
"I would not order them to stay, Davis," answered the captain. "These
seas, if they continue long, must break up the stoutest ship, and it is
a fearful thing to have to struggle among floating timbers, washed about
round such rocks as these."
While they were speaking, many of the crew, clinging to spars and
planks, were seen drifting towards the shore. Few, however, appeared to
reach it. Some, exhausted by their exertions, let go their hold and
sank. Others were cast upon the reef, mangled fearfully by the timbers
which were thrown upon them. The rest, meantime, continued to work at
the raft. The surviving officers then came to the captain, and urged
him to allow them to place him upon it, but he remained firm to his
resolution.
"No, no," he answered; "do you leave the ship as you think best; but she
was placed under my command, and nothing shall induce me to desert her
as long as she holds together."