Harry and the other pressed men stood for some time on the deck of the
frigate, awaiting the appearance of the commanding officer. Harry
dreaded his coming, believing that Captain Everard would immediately
recognise him. At length an officer appeared from below, accompanied by
the master-at-arms, who held a ship's lantern in his hand. The officer
commenced his inspection at the other end of the line. The light not
falling on him, Harry could not see his features, but his figure was
like that of the captain.
"I must brave it out," he thought. "What shall I call myself? It must
be a name I can recollect. Andrew Brown will, do as well as any other."
Jacob was standing at a little distance from him. He had just time to
step round and whisper, "I shall take the name of Andrew Brown," before
the officer approached. He was greatly relieved on finding it was not
the captain. Jacob Tuttle gave his real name. He entered himself as
Andrew Brown.
As soon as the inspection was over, the men were ordered down below,
being told that they would be entered more regularly the next morning.
They were told that they might lie down between the guns on the main
deck, sentries being placed over them as if they were prisoners.
Harry was only too thankful to find a quiet spot where he might stretch
his weary limbs and finish his slumbers, which had been so rudely broken
during the first part of the night. He was too sleepy even to think.
He dreamed that the fray was renewed, for the most strange, wild, and
unearthly sounds assailed his ears: shrill whistles, hoarse bawlings,
fierce oaths, the stamping of feet and rattling of ropes, and shouts of
all sorts, creating the wildest uproar he had ever heard.
"Yes, he's alive, only drunk, maybe," said a gruff voice in his ear.
"No, he's not drunk, only worn out pretty well, as you or I would be if
we had not had a sleep for three or four nights. He's young, you see."
These words were spoken by Jacob Tuttle, who, putting his arm under
Harry's shoulders, helped him to get up, and saved him from knocking his
head against the gun-carriage under which he had been sleeping. For
some seconds he felt stupefied. The whole ship, which was so quiet when
he lay down, was now in a state of what appeared to him the wildest
confusion--officers issuing their orders in no very gentle voices or
refined language, and men rushing here and there, stamping along the
decks with their bare feet, swaying up yards, and bending sails,
hoisting in stores, and lowering casks and cases into the hold. Harry,
when he saw the number of men and size of the ship, began to hope that
he might avoid the recognition of the captain.
"I'll keep out of his way," he thought, "and if Mabel does not tell him
of my intention of going to sea, though he may think Andrew Brown very
like Harry Tryon, he may possibly not dream of asking questions on the
subject."
After breakfast the first-lieutenant went through the usual examination
of the pressed men, and entered them under different ratings in the
ship's books. In those days muscle and activity were the qualifications
most valued. Harry was able to answer in a satisfactory way the
questions put to him, and was at once rated as an able-bodied seaman,
and, greatly to Jacob's satisfaction, was placed in the same watch and
mess with him.
"I'll show you what to do, Harry," he said, "and you'll turn out as good
a seaman as any on board."
The following day the ship went out to Spithead.
Harry wrote two letters, no easy task amid the multitude of persons on
board, male and female visitors of all sorts, at whose language and
conduct Harry's heart sickened. It was well that it did so. Better be
disgusted with vice than witness it unconcerned. Very often our young
sailor was interrupted, his paper saved with difficulty from profane
hands. Still at last the letters were finished. One was to Mabel. He
did not describe the scene by which he was surrounded. He told her
simply that he had taken the final plunge, was now a seaman sworn to
serve his king and country, but hoped soon to be an officer, entreating
her not to mention his name to her father, and sent a message to Madam
Everard and Paul Gauntlett. He entreated her to think kindly of him,
and assured her that his own heart would be faithful to death.
Poor Mabel! the letter did not give her much pleasure. "As if I should
ever cease to think of him," she said to herself. "Oh, that he had been
better guided."
He wrote also to Mr. Kyffin, directing the letter wisely to his private
house, for he thought it more than probable that Silas Sleech would
otherwise take possession of it. The letter was a long one, tolerably
coherent on the whole. He confessed all that had occurred, made no
excuses for himself, nor did he accuse Sleech. He dated his letter from
the "Brilliant," begging his guardian to reply to it, in the hope that
an answer might reach him before the ship sailed. Day after day passed
by, and no answer came.
Harry heard with some considerable trepidation that Captain Everard was
expected on board. He saw his gig coming off. The sides were manned,
and the captain passed through the gangway to the quarter-deck, touching
his hat in return for the salute offered him by the marines drawn up on
either side. He glanced his eye aloft, and then along the deck.
Everything was in excellent order. Harry, who was nearer than he could
have wished, stood his gaze steadily. He spoke a few words of approval
to the first-lieutenant, and then went down below. Harry saw at a
glance that Captain Everard on shore and Captain Everard in command of a
frigate were two somewhat different characters. As the captain
disappeared, Blue Peter was run up to the mast-head. It became
generally known that the ship was to sail the next day; her destination,
the North American Station and the West Indies. Harry's heart sank when
he heard this.
"I may be away then three, perhaps four long years," he said to himself.
"What changes may take place in the meantime! Yet I may have better
opportunities of distinguishing myself than on the home station. I
ought to be thankful."
Harry, as he looked round the decks, could not conceive how order could
ever spring out of the fearful disorder which had seemed to prevail.
The ship was crowded with visitors. Boats in great numbers hung
alongside, in which the boatmen were quarrelling with each other, while
eager Jews endeavoured to find their way on deck to obtain payment of
debts which they alleged were due to them from the seamen. Harry had
little fear at this time of being recognised, the captain being
generally employed in the cabin. He was watching what was going
forward, when he saw a wherry standing up under sail from the westward
towards the ship.
"Is that the `Brilliant'?" asked a voice from the boat, in which sat
three persons--the boatman, his boy, and a young woman.
"Ay, ay," was the answer.
The sail was lowered and the boat stood up alongside.
"May I come on board?" asked a gentle female voice, as the boat reached
the gangway ladder.
"That you may, and welcome," was the answer; "but you will not have long
to stay, as the ship's going to sea directly."
Harry thought he recognised the countenance of the speaker. Assisted up
gallantly by the quartermaster stationed at the gangway, the young woman
stood on the deck. She looked round with a somewhat scared and
astonished gaze, but no sooner did her eye fall on Harry, who was
watching her, than she ran towards him.
"Oh! Mr. Tryon, is it you, indeed? Can you tell me if Jacob Tuttle is
on board? He came away without telling me that he was again going to
join his ship, and I only heard just now from a friend of his at
Portsmouth that he was on board the `Brilliant.' He would never wish, I
know, to go and leave me without one farewell, and so I cannot make it
out."
Harry recognised in the speaker Mary Cull, Mabel's trim little
waiting-maid. Jacob was aloft at the time, engaged in some work on the
maintop-gallant yard. He had been too busily occupied to see the
different boats coming to the ship. Now, however, the task completed,
he happened to cast his eyes down on deck, and even at that distance
recognised the figure though he could not have seen the pretty features
of Mary. He observed, however, that she was talking to Harry. The
knife he was using, which hung round his neck by a rope yarn, was thrust
into the breast of his shirt, and quick as lightning he came gliding
down the backstay close to where the two were standing. Mary gave a
shriek of terror when she saw him, thinking that he was falling. Before
even she could utter another exclamation of alarm, he sprang nimbly on
deck and stood by her side.
"Mary," he said, "have you come to look for me? I would not have come
away without wishing you good-bye if I had thought I was not going to be
back again pretty soon, but I was pressed aboard this ship, and had no
chance of going back to see you and mother. You know I am a poor hand
at writing, and I could not ask my friend here to trouble himself about
the matter, and so, Mary, that's the long and the short of it. I love
you, girl, that I do, and love you now more than I ever thought I would;
but, Mary, I did not think you cared for me, that's the truth on't, and
now I know you do," and Jacob took Mary's willing hand in his, and
looked into her eyes with an honest glance which must have convinced her
that he spoke the truth, whatever he might before have done.
"Jacob, I did not tell you I loved you before, because you did not ask
me, but still I thought you knew I did, and as for Tom Hodson you was
jealous of, I never cared a pin for him, and he's gone and 'listed for a
soldier."
Harry listened to this conversation not unamused. He understood the
whole history in a minute. Jacob had left home in a huff, jealous of
the attentions Mary was receiving from a rival, and now he was going
away, to be parted from her for many years, perhaps never to return. He
could not help comparing Jacob's position to his own. Poor Mary was in
tears. Jacob was vowing with earnestness that he would from henceforth
ever be faithful to her.
"No, Mary, no, I am going among negresses and foreigners, black and
brown girls of all sorts, and do you think I would take up with one of
them and leave you?" And Jacob laughed at his own suggestion. "No,
that I would not, not to be made port admiral, nor a king on his throne
either. Mary, I was a fool to come away and leave you and poor mother,
but it's too late now, I must go this cruise. The king himself could
not get me off. There's no use asking the captain. Why he would only
laugh at me. If he was to let me go, half the ship's company would want
to go and marry their sweethearts. I tell you a plain and solemn truth,
Mary; but cheer up, dear girl. Never fear, I will be true and faithful
to you."
Mary was too much occupied with her own grief to think much of Harry.
However, she at last turned towards him.
"Mr. Tryon," she said, "are you going, too? Surely that cannot be.
What shall I tell Miss Mabel?"
"Tell her, Mary, what Jacob has said to you. I trust the time will
quickly pass. I hope to do my duty faithfully to my king and country,
and to obey my captain."
Mary was about to ask further questions, but the boatswain's whistle was
heard, uttering the stern order for all visitors to leave the ship.
Jacob gave Mary an affectionate embrace, and assisted her down the side,
Harry especially being very unwilling to detain her lest she should be
seen by the captain. She had come away, Jacob told him, having got a
holiday for a week to see her friends. The boatman, who knew Jacob,
wished him farewell, for though he stared at Harry, he did not appear to
recognise him in the dress of a seaman, so different to what he had been
accustomed to wear. In a few minutes afterwards the merry pipe was
sounding. Harry and others were tramping round with the capstan-bars,
and the anchor was slowly hove up to the bows. The proud frigate, under
all sail, stood down the Solent toward the Needle passage.
Harry turned his aching eyes toward Lynderton as the frigate glided by.
Though the sea was bright, the air fresh, and everything round him
looked beautiful, his heart sank low, and often and often he bitterly
repented the step he had taken. He quickly, however, learned his duty
as a seaman, and Captain Everard more than once remarked to the
first-lieutenant that he had seldom seen a more active and promising
lad.
"You speak of Andrew Brown, sir?" was the answer. "Yes, he's one of our
pressed men, but he at once seemed reconciled to his fate. He will make
a prime seaman."
"Curious, I cannot help fancying that I have seen him before," observed
the captain, "or else he is very like a lad I know, of a family residing
in my part of the country. However, that is fancy."
Probably from that moment Captain Everard thought little more of the
likeness between Andrew Brown and Harry Tryon.
The frigate met with remarkably fine weather during her passage across
the Atlantic. As she neared the American coast, however, thick weather
came on--such as is often found in those latitudes. It was night. The
starboard watch was on deck--that to which Jacob and Harry belonged.
The ship was under easy sail--a fresh breeze but fair. The captain was
below. A bright look-out ought to have been kept, but bright look-outs
are not always kept, even on board men-of-war.
"How cold it feels," observed Harry to Jacob. "What's that white cloud
ahead?"
Scarcely had the words left his mouth than there was a fearful crash.
Every timber quivered. Down came the foremast. The bowsprit also was
carried away.
"She's on an iceberg!" was shouted out.
Dismay seized the hearts of the stoutest. In an instant all was
confusion and disorder. In the midst of it, a voice sounding above even
the wild uproar ordered the men to their stations. The ship had bounded
off, and now glided by, leaving the iceberg on the starboard side.
Still the sea drove her against the base. Twice she struck with fearful
violence. The mainmast followed the foremast, speedily carrying the
mizenmast with it. The gallant frigate lay a helpless wreck on the dark
tossing waters. The captain ordered the carpenter and his mates to
sound the well. In a few short minutes he reported ten feet of water in
the hold, increasing fast. Starboard bow stove in, many planks
alongside ripped off! The ship must inevitably founder.
In an unskaken voice the captain announced the dreadful fact.
"Remain calm and collected, and do your duty to the last, lads," he
cried.
Orders were given to get out the boats.
Rafts also must be made, though there was short time for building them.
The crew worked with a will. Had they been wearied out with pumping
they might have given in. They had good reason now for working hard.
The ship laboured heavily. The officers and many of the older seamen
knew well, from the slow heavy movements, that she had not long to
float. The carpenter by another report confirmed their fears. Harry,
with other seamen, was engaged in making a raft on the quarter-deck. It
was smaller than the rest, and nearly completed. The captain's voice
was again heard ordering the boats to be lowered without delay. While
the men were engaged in obeying the order the stern of the frigate
seemed to lift up. Down sank the bows, and with one awful plunge the
proud frigate rushed downward into the ocean depths. A wild cry arose,
such as even the bravest utter in a moment of extreme peril. Jacob and
Harry leaped on the small raft. The grey dawn had just before broke.
Some of the larger rafts, not yet completed, were sucked down with the
sinking ship. Several boats suffered the same fate. Others were
swamped. The small raft was whirled round and round, a few men clinging
to it, Harry and Jacob among them keeping their hold. Here and there
were despairing faces gazing their last at the sky ere they sank beneath
the water. Now and then an arm was seen uplifted grasping at air.
Broken spars and planks escaped from the unfinished rafts, drowning men
clinging to them, though many of those who clung there soon dropped off.
Harry and Jacob had helped three shipmates to climb up on to the raft.
Not far off a man was struggling to gain a spar which floated near.
Even by that light he was seen to be an officer.
"It's the captain!" cried Harry; "I must save him."
Springing from the raft, he swam out towards the captain. The officer
was close to a spar, but his hand failed to clutch it, and he sank.
Harry dived rapidly. His hand grasped the captain's collar, and with an
upward stroke he returned to the surface. He looked around. The spar
was not an arm's length from him. Placing the captain across it, he
pushed it towards the raft. The captain was saved from immediate death.
But what prospect had those poor fellows, on that small raft out on the
stormy ocean, of being saved? No sail was in sight. One boat only had
escaped destruction. She was already at some distance. Those in her
did not perceive the raft. Already, probably, she was overloaded. Soon
a sail was hoisted and she stood away to the westward. The saddest
sight of all was to see the poor fellows clinging to the pieces of wreck
one by one dropping off. The sun rose, the mist cleared away. Six men
on the raft alone remained on the waste of waters.