O'Carroll's alarm increased as he saw the privateer approaching. "We
shall all have our throats cut to a certainty," he cried out. "They
will not leave one of us alive to go home to our disconsolate widows to
tell them all that has happened. I know them too well, the villains!
Arrah! it was an unfortunate moment that ever I was brought to tumble
twice into the hands of such gentry."
"We are not in their hands yet, and if we make a good fight of it, maybe
we never shall," exclaimed Captain Hassall. "My lads, if you'll stand
by me, I'll hold out as long as the craft can float. We beat off this
same fellow once before--let's try if we can't beat him off again."
This brief address inspirited our crew, and, almost worn out with
fatigue as they were, they promised to defend themselves to the last.
My sensations, as we saw the enemy approach, were not altogether
pleasant. We might beat him off in the end; but even that, in our
present condition, was not likely; and how many of our number might not
be struck down in the struggle! In the meantime, the men armed
themselves with pistols and cutlasses, powder and shot were got up, and
every preparation made for the fight. The enemy approached, but as he
had run to leeward, it was some time before he could work up to pass us
to windward. We had carried a stay from the mainmast to the bowsprit,
and on this we managed to set a sail, so that the ship was tolerably
under control. When the enemy, therefore, at last passed under our
stern, we were able to luff up and avoid the raking fire he poured in.
No damage was done to any of our people, but a shot struck the mainmast,
and wounded it so badly that it was evident that, with any additional
strain, it would be carried away altogether. Putting up the helm, we
again ran off before the wind. The enemy was soon after us, but though
he came up abeam in the heavy sea still running, his aim was of
necessity uncertain, and for some time not a shot struck us, while
several of ours struck him. This encouraged our men, who gave vent to
their satisfaction whenever he was hulled, or a shot went through his
sails. Our hopes of success were, however, soon brought to an end, for,
as we were compelled to luff up suddenly, to avoid being raked, as he
was about to cross our bows, the heavy strain on our wounded mast
carried it away, and with it the mizen-topmast, and there we lay a
helpless wreck in the trough of the sea, at the mercy of the enemy.
Still, as we could work our guns we would not give in, but hoisting our
flag on the mizen-mast we continued firing as long as we could bring our
guns to bear. A loud cheer burst from the throats of our crew; the
Frenchman was standing away. This exultation was rather too
precipitate. As soon as he got out of range of our guns, he hove-to and
began firing away from a long gun, the shot from which occasionally hit
us. One poor fellow was killed and two wounded. It was clear that the
privateer was merely waiting till the sea should go down, when he would
run alongside and capture us without difficulty.
Captain Hassall at last, seeing what must inevitably occur, called the
officers round him, and proposed surrendering. "The villains will cut
all our throats if we do, that's all," observed O'Carroll. "I would
rather hold out to the last and sell our lives dearly." Most of us were
of O'Carroll's opinion.
"Very well, gentlemen, so let it be," said the captain. "I have done my
duty in offering to surrender, when I consider that successful
resistance is hopeless; still I agree with you that it would be better
to die fighting than to be murdered in cold blood."
When our guns became useless, the crew had been set to work to clear the
wreck of the mainmast, and to prepare sheers for a jury foremast. "And
this is to be the termination of our enterprise," I thought. I must own
I gave way to some bitter reflection. While all hands were busily
employed, I turned my eyes westward, and there, in the very place where
the _Mignonne_ had appeared, I saw another white sail. I pointed her
out to the captain. "She may be a friend, and turn the tables," he
observed. "If a foe we shall not be worse off than at present."
It soon became known that a sail was in sight. The crew came to the
conclusion that she was a friend. The Frenchmen at last saw her.
Whatever opinion they formed, they judged that it would be wise to
finish the fight and take possession of us. Once more the enemy drew
near. The firing became hotter than ever. I turned many an anxious
glance at the approaching sail. I felt sure that, in spite of the
staunchness of our men, we must inevitably be overpowered. The stranger
was getting closer and closer.
"She is a frigate!" cried the captain. "She shows English colours!
hurrah! hurrah!" The enemy saw that the chance of capturing us was
gone. Sweeping round us, with diabolical malice he gave a parting
broadside, which killed one man and wounded another, and then under all
the sail he could set ran off before the wind. The frigate had now also
made more sail and closed as rapidly. She came close to us. "Are you
in a sinking state?" asked a voice from the frigate. "I hope not,"
answered Captain Hassall. "Then hold on and we'll come back to you,"
said the voice, which we took to be that of the captain. As I was
watching the frigate through my glass, as she rushed by us, who should I
see standing in the main rigging but my own midshipman brother William!
I waved heartily to him, but he did not make me out. From my usual
sedate manners, my shipmates seeing my gestures thought that I had gone
mad, and was waving to be taken on board the frigate. "She is the
_Phoebe_ frigate," I exclaimed, jumping out of the rigging on deck. "No
fear that we shall be deserted now!" I then explained how I came to
know the name of the frigate. All hands were now set to work to get the
ship to rights. The chase, meantime, became very exciting. "The
captain does not know what a fast pair of heels that privateering
scoundrel possesses, or he would not have much hopes of catching him,"
observed Captain Hassall, as he watched the two vessels. The topsails
of the Frenchman soon disappeared beneath the horizon, and the shades of
evening at length closing down, we were left alone on the world of
waters, into which the heavy swell made us roll our sides till we almost
dipped our bulwarks under--each time showers of spray being sent
dripping off them. The enemy had made several shot-holes in our sides,
and those were now, we found, taking in the water faster than was
altogether agreeable. The carpenter and his mates had indeed hard work
to stop them. I have heard of people's hair turning white in a single
night. I felt as if mine would, for it became doubtful if after all the
ship would swim, from the quantity of water she was taking in. We,
indeed, had reason to regret that we had allowed the frigate to leave
us. At last the morning broke. We eagerly looked round the horizon.
No sail was in sight. Would the ship float another day? The shot-holes
had been stopped, but should bad weather again come on it would be
impossible to say what would be the effect on the vessel. Noon came,
but no sail was in sight. We were afraid that the cunning privateer had
led the frigate a long chase, perhaps among shoals and reefs, and that
she had got on shore, and that we might not see the frigate again.
"More likely that she was only the _Flying Dutchman_, taking a longer
cruise than usual," muttered Stubbs. "There's no saying what tricks
that fellow is not up to."
"What, not got the _Dutchman_ out of your head yet, Stubbs?" said
Randolph. "Why, Biddulph saw his brother on board, and two or three of
our people know the _Phoebe_, and recognised her."
"Yes, I know that's what often happens. The _Dutchman_ can make his
ship look like any vessel he chooses," persisted Stubbs; "naturally--
that is to say as she generally appears--she is a curious old-fashioned
rigged craft--you may depend on that."
While we were speaking--taking a breath between our labours, for all
hands had been working hard--"A sail, a sail!" was shouted by one of the
seamen. We all looked in the direction in which he pointed, and there
appeared the upper sails of a ship. Our hopes made us believe that it
was the frigate. "As likely the Frenchman come to finish us off, or
maybe only the _Flying Dutchman_ again," said Stubbs. I thought that I
detected a gleam of humour in his eye, as if he was not quite so
credulous as he pretended to be. As the stranger approached, the belief
that she was the _Phoebe_ gained ground. At length those who knew her
best said that there was no doubt about the matter. They were right.
Before dark she hove-to close to us, and a boat with a midshipman in her
boarded us. The midshipman was my brother William. He almost tumbled
back with surprise at seeing me, for he did not even know that I was
coming out.
"Why, James, where have you sprung from?" he exclaimed. "I am thankful
to see you unhurt, for we have been anxious about you all day. Couldn't
tell how much damage the rascal might have done you. Well, he escaped
after all. He has a fast pair of heels, indeed, and he led us a pretty
chase, till he got in among some reefs, on which we were nearly leaving
our bones. We saw our danger, however, and by the time we were clear he
was out of sight."
The boat's crew were directed to remain on board to put the ship to
rights. When, however, Captain Young found that this would occupy some
time, he offered to take us in tow. A hawser was accordingly passed on
board, and away we went in the wake of the frigate. Our course was for
the Isle of Bourbon, lately captured from the French. At the end of a
week we anchored in the Bay of Saint Paul in that island. On our way
there we had done our best to get the ship in order. Our crew were now
set to work in earnest, aided by some of the men of the _Phoebe_, who
were kindly spared to us by her captain. I took the opportunity of
seeing something of the island. My brother William and some of the
other midshipmen of the _Phoebe_ got leave to accompany me, and merry
parties we had.
Bourbon is about one hundred and fifty miles in circumference, and rises
rapidly from the sea, forming one huge blunt-topped mountain in the
centre; indeed, the whole island is not unlike a big tea-cup in the
middle of the ocean, with some rather large cracks, however, in it. It
is generally fertile, coffee and cotton being grown on it. On the south
side, a few miles from the sea, there is a volcano, which grumbled and
growled, but seldom did more than send forth a little smoke. The
inhabitants did not appear to be at all soured at having been placed
under British rule.
Probably, indeed, it was a matter of indifference to them, for they have
themselves sprung from a mixture of half the races under the sun. Many
of the inhabitants are descended from some of those English pirates
whose headquarters were, for nearly a hundred years, on the island of
Madagascar, but who, about the middle of the seventeenth century,
growing weary of their lawless calling, settled here. As their wives
were mostly from Madagascar, they are somewhat darkish, but not
bad-looking. They are a lively, merry race, fond of dancing, and their
climate is delightful. The names of some of the families belonging to
the island are derived from the English, as are those of several places.
I remember a bay in Madagascar, Antongil Bay, which clearly takes its
name from the well-known pirate-leader, Antony Gill, who robbed and
murdered on the high seas early in the seventeenth century.
A squadron and troops were collecting here, the latter under General
Abercrombie, for an expedition to the Mauritius. We were greatly
disappointed, I must own, that our ship was not in a condition to
proceed to sea, or we should have been chartered to convey troops and
been witnesses of the triumphs we hoped they would achieve. My object
is, however, to describe my own adventures in the pursuit of pacific
commerce. I will thus only briefly say that the expedition arrived
speedily off the Mauritius, the troops were landed, and that after some
sharp fighting, by which we lost one hundred and fifty men killed and
wounded, the French General, De Caen, capitulated. We had several sepoy
regiments, and the French general, in order to inspire the colonial
troops with contempt for them, publicly promised that whoever should
capture a sepoy should have him for a slave; but the militia appear to
have thought that by so doing they might possibly catch a Tartar, for
not a sepoy was made prisoner.
I made some satisfactory sales at Bourbon, and as soon as the ship was
repaired she followed the men-of-war to the Isle of France. The island
is about thirty-five miles long, and one hundred and fifteen in
circumference, with a surface greatly diversified by hill and plain,
wood and plantation, with several considerable mountains, the chief of
which, Le Pouce and Pieter Botte, in the neighbourhood of Port Louis,
are well-known. The harbour was a complete forest of masts, filled with
vessels of all sorts and sizes, from the huge line-of-battle ship to the
humble canoe, not unlike a butcher's tray, scooped out of a single log.
The British flag waved triumphantly on all the batteries; and Indiamen,
transport prizes, merchant craft of all descriptions, displayed English
colours, in most cases flying over the French. Numerous boats, too,
were plying to and fro filled with naval and military officers, captains
of Indiamen, sailors, lascars, negroes, and Frenchmen, some on business,
some on pleasure, but all seeming to be in a hurry. I looked out with
no little curiosity for any craft which might answer the description of
our late antagonist, the _Mignonne_. If she had entered the harbour,
she had again escaped before the capture of the place, for she was
nowhere to be seen. It would have been satisfactory to have seen our
friend caged, but it was too probable that he was still roving over the
ocean, on the watch to plunder any English craft he could venture to
attack.
The scene on shore was even more animated than on the water. The
streets were crowded with people of many nations: naval and military
officers, English and French Government civilians, merchants and other
traders, Asiatics and negroes, almost naked slaves dragging along
horse-loads in carts, with mongrels of every shade of colour. The town,
though in a bustle, was perfectly orderly; the shops were all open, and
their owners seemed to be driving a thriving trade, as were also the
keepers of taverns, which were full of visitors from fleet and camp. We
fortunately had several articles among the cargo of the _Barbara_, of
which our countrymen were much in want, not to be found in the stores of
the place. They were, however, quickly disposed of, and I was then at
leisure to amuse myself as I thought fit. I made several excursions on
shore with my brother when he could get leave, and I had thus an
opportunity of learning the productions of the island. The chief food
of the lower orders and slaves is yams and the _jatropha_, or cassada,
of which there are two species commonly known, the _jatropha janipha_,
and the _jatropha manihot_. The former contains a strong vegetable
poison, which is destroyed by boiling; the latter is merely slightly
narcotic in its effects, and both are easily converted into wholesome
food. The root, after being well washed and dried in the sun, is
usually scraped into a coarse powder, from which the juice is expressed:
it is then dried a second time and formed into thin cakes, very similar
in appearance to Scotch barley-cakes. The bread thus made is called
manioc. Tapioca is also a preparation of the root. Plantains, bananas,
melons, and mangoes abound, and the last are especially fine. The
climate is healthy, but the Mauritius is occasionally visited by
terrific hurricanes, which commit great damage both afloat and on shore.
We soon made friends among the French residents, and one of them, with
whom I had had some transactions, invited William and me, and a military
acquaintance, Captain Mason, to his house in the country. We were most
hospitably entertained by our worthy host. The house was large and
airy, with a verandah running round it on one side sufficiently broad to
enable us to sit out and enjoy the cool breeze, while we sipped our
coffee. We had proposed returning that evening, but the wind got up, it
rained heavily, and became very dark. Our host pressed us to stay, and
as William's leave extended to the next morning we accepted his
invitation, he undertaking to put my brother on board in time. Our
companion, Captain Mason, was a quiet, amiable man. He was married and
as he expected to remain on the island, he had, he told us, sent for his
wife from the Cape of Good Hope, where he had left her. I cannot now
describe the incidents of our visit.
The next morning, soon after daybreak, having taken an early breakfast
of a lighter character than suited our English appetites, we drove back
to Port Louis. The weather had grown worse instead of improving, and as
we drew near the town we saw in the distance two vessels with English
colours approaching the harbour. William had to hurry on board his
ship, but Mason and I drove on to a spot where we could see them enter.
One gained an anchorage in safety, but the other still continued
outside, steering wildly, as if uncertain what course to take. It was
soon evident that she was in great danger. While we were looking on,
Captain Hassall joined us. There were a number of naval officers,
masters of merchantmen, and others collected on the shore. "She is said
to have a pilot on board, and an ignorant fellow he must be, or he would
have anchored outside ere this if he could not get in," observed Captain
Hassall. While he was speaking, the vessel got into the swell of the
sea which was dashing on the rocks close at hand. Rapidly she came
drifting towards them. Probably the master then asserted his authority,
for two anchors were let go. The fate of the ship, and probably of all
on board, depended on the anchors holding. With deep anxiety we watched
her as the huge swells came rolling in towards the rocks. A cry arose
from the collected crowd--"The cables have parted--the cables have
parted!" The hapless craft was lifted by the next surge, and hurried on
amid the foaming breakers towards the rocks. At that instant the
foresail was set, in the hopes of its helping to force her over them.
It was useless; down she came with a tremendous crash on the black
rocks. For a few minutes she continued beating on them, rocking to and
fro in the wildest agitation; then a huge surge, which appeared to have
been for some time collecting its strength, struck her on the side, and
rolled her over, as if she had been merely a child's plaything, towards
the shore, to all appearance overwhelmed, so as never to rise again.
The wild breakers dashed triumphantly over her, but she was not
conquered, though it seemed a wonder that wood and iron should hold
together under the tremendous shocks she was receiving. Once more she
rose to an erect position, and it was seen that her dauntless crew were
endeavouring to cut away her masts. "It is the only thing they can do
to save their lives," observed Hassall, watching them through his glass.
"And see,--yes--there is a woman on board--a lady by her dress. She is
clinging to the windlass--probably secured to it." As he was speaking,
the mizen-mast came down, followed quickly by the mainmast, which
happily fell towards the shore. Again a surge covered the vessel. We
feared that all on board would be swept from the decks; but when again
the surge receded, the people were seen clinging fast as before. A boat
from one of the men-of-war now approached the wreck, but the officer in
command soon saw that he should only throw away his own life and the
lives of those with him if he should attempt to go near enough to
receive any one on board. The foremast now fell, and still the stout
ship hung together. Other boats came up and got as near as it was
possible to go. That those on board thought she would not hold together
much longer was evident by the efforts they began to make to escape.
First we observed a man descend the foremast as if with the intention of
swimming ashore. His courage, however, forsook him; he paused and
returned. Again he climbed along the mast, but hesitated--it was indeed
a desperate undertaking. At length he cast himself into the water:
immediately he was overwhelmed. Would he ever again reach the surface?
"Yes! yes! there he is," cried out several. For a moment he was seen
struggling bravely. A groan escaped from the spectators: "He's gone!
he's gone!" "No, no, he is still floating," many shouted out. So he
was; but whirled here and there, blinded and confused, he was unable to
guide himself. He was seen, happily, from one of the boats: she dashed
forward, and he was hauled on board without apparently having struck a
rock. All this time the people on the wreck had been watching him with
intense anxiety, especially the poor lady: "If a strong and bold swimmer
could scarcely be saved, what chance had she?" Hassall made the remark.
"Not one would have a prospect of being saved if trusting only to his
own strength; but there is a Ruler above," said Captain Mason, who had
hitherto been watching the wreck without speaking; "He may save that
poor woman on the wreck as easily as the strongest seaman." I have
often since thought of my friend's remark. It is not our own right arm,
but God in heaven, without whose knowledge not a sparrow falls to the
ground, who preserves us in many dangers. Captain Mason begged for the
use of Hassall's glass, and looked steadfastly through it at the wreck.
"It is impossible, yet the figure is like--I cannot make it out," I
heard him say. The success of the first man induced another to attempt
reaching the shore. He hurried along to the end of the mast and threw
himself into the water. The boiling surges whirled him round and
round--now he was concealed by the foam--now he appeared struggling
onward--still it seemed scarcely possible that he could escape from the
boiling cauldron--just then a broken spar floated near him. Had the end
struck him he must have been lost, but it came on so that he could
clutch the middle. Tightly he grasped it till like his shipmate he was
floated near one of the boats and taken on board. Two other men,
encouraged by the success of the first, attempted to reach the boats by
the same means, but scarcely had they committed themselves to the water
when a huge roller came roaring on, dashing over the ship, and as it
receded swept them off far away to sea; for a moment their forms were
seen struggling amidst the foam, and then they were hid for ever from
human eye. The lives of the remainder on board seemed more than ever in
danger. Should the storm increase, of which there seemed every
probability, the ship must go to pieces, even if they were not first
washed off the deck, and then what effort could save them? I was more
than ever interested in their fate, when suddenly the idea occurred to
me that the lady on board might be the wife of my friend Mason. I
thought that he had the same idea, though he would not allow himself to
entertain it, by the agitation he exhibited, and which he in vain tried
to control. As yet the men who had been saved had not been brought on
shore. More boats were coming down the harbour. At length a fine
whale-boat was brought down not far from where we were standing. A
naval officer, whose name I regret that I did not note, volunteered to
take the command, and to go alongside the wreck, if volunteers could be
found to man her. Hassall at once offered his services, as did several
other masters of merchantmen standing by, and they were accepted. Mason
and I also volunteered. "Not unless you are seamen," was the answer.
"This work requires firm nerves and skilful hands." I must observe here
that I have ever found the officers of the mercantile marine ready to go
forth, in spite of all dangers, to save the lives of their
fellow-creatures. Though there are exceptions, the greater number are
as gallant fellows as any of those who have fought the battles of our
country.
The boat was manned and ready to go off, but it became a question
whether it would be wise to wait on the prospect of the sea going down,
or to risk all and to go off at once on the possibility of the gale
increasing. The men who had been rescued were brought on shore. Mason
hurried to them, and eagerly inquired who was the woman on board. They
were common seamen, and did not know her name. She was a lady, and had
come on board at Cape Town just as the ship was sailing. That was all
they knew. The naval officer had earnestly been watching the huge
rollers as they came tumbling on towards the shore. Suddenly he cried
out, "Now, gentlemen, we'll be off." Away went the boat amid the
foaming seas towards the hapless wreck.