FIRST INTRODUCTION TO MISS TROALL--HAPPY EVENING--RETURN ON BOARD--AN
EXPEDITION PLANNED--ATTACK ON PRIVATEERS--THE BOAT SINKS UNDER ME--MEET
AN OLD FRIEND--FOLLOW HIS ADVICE--JOIN AN AMERICAN VESSEL--CHASED
AGAIN--THE ACTION BETWEEN THE BRITISH AND FRENCH SHIPS--LAND OUR
PASSENGERS--LOSS OF OUR VESSEL--GET ON SHORE AT GUERNSEY--LA MOTTE AND
HIS FAMILY--SAIL FOR PORTSMOUTH.
And so at length the dream in which I had so long indulged was realised.
Once more I trod my native shores. Once more I had visited the home of
my childhood. What a blank I had found! My lot has been that of
thousands of seamen--of thousands of poor wanderers over the face of the
globe, of every rank and in every clime. It is the tale which many and
many a shipmate has told me in our midnight watch:--"I got back to the
place where I was born. I thought to find it a home, but most of those
I left were dead! the rest removed. All were gone. The spot which once
I knew so well, knew me no more; so I fell in with an old messmate. We
had a jovial spree on shore, and then, when all our cash was gone, we
went to sea again." Such was not my lot, though. Had I been inclined
for a spree, which I was not, I had not time to indulge in it. I took a
walk through some of the beautiful green lanes about Plymouth, and
filled my hat full of wild-flowers, and then came back to the old lady's
house to take my tea, as I had promised. I opened the door without
ceremony, for I forgot entirely that it was not my own home, and walked
into the parlour, expecting to find the old lady. Instead of her, what
was my surprise to see seated at the tea-table the very young woman who
had been watching me in the churchyard. I was regularly taken aback,
and stammered out--
"Beg pardon, Miss, I didn't know that there was anybody here but the old
lady who asked me to tea."
"You need not offer any excuse; my aunt told me you were coming," she
answered, in just such a voice as I should have expected to hear when
looking at her.
In a very few minutes she made me quite at home, and her aunt came in,
and we soon were talking away just as if we were old friends. I will
not say that I forgot my grandmother and aunt, but I should be wrong if
I did not confess that my sorrow was very much soothed, and what is
more, that in some respects I felt happier than I had done for a very
long time. Tea was made, and I began to talk to them about my
adventures and my shipwrecks.
"The most dreadful," said I, "was the first, when I and all my
companions nearly lost our lives aboard the _Kite_."
"The _Kite_!" exclaimed the young lady, "the _Kite_! What do you know
about her? Oh, in mercy tell me, young man!"
I saw she was very much agitated, but as I could not tell what part of
the narrative to pass over or to touch on slightly, I told her all about
the vessel from the time we left Plymouth till we got aboard the French
brig; especially I could not help speaking of Seton and his bravery, and
how he was wounded, and how he entreated me to bear his dying messages
to his family, and to the girl to whom he was to be married. She seemed
almost breathless as I proceeded with my story, but every now and then
she would say, "Go on--in mercy go on." So I continued with my story to
the end; "and," said I, "the first time I have freedom on shore, I will,
please heaven, go and fulfil my promise to poor Seton. I remember the
young lady's name--Margaret Troall."
"You have fulfilled it already," said the young lady, with a faltering
voice, and bursting into tears; "I am Margaret Troall. And oh, believe
me, I am most grateful to you."
I was astonished, I found that the rest of her family in England were
dead, and that she and her aunt had come to live at Plymouth just as my
aunt and her husband had left the place, and they had taken my
grandmother's house, which was then vacant. At first, after all this,
the young lady was very sad, but by degrees she recovered her spirits,
and we talked on very pleasantly till Miss Rundle came in.
She wasn't half as stiff as at first, when she saw how well I was
received by Mrs Sandon (that was the name of the old lady) and her
niece, and she promised to write to my aunt to tell her that I was alive
and well, and that she might expect to see me some day.
"When you see her, as I hope you will soon," said she, "remember to tell
her that I am looking well, and that you knew me at once."
"That I will, Miss Rundle," said I; "I'll tell her that you look as
young and handsome as you ever did, and for that matter younger to my
eyes,--and that's the truth."
So it was, for a boy always thinks an oldish woman older than she really
is. Miss Rundle drew herself up, and looked quite pleased, and smiled
and smirked, and I saw that my joking had gained me a place in her good
graces which I never enjoyed in my boyish days. Well, I was very sorry
when the time came for me to get up and return on board the frigate. I
put my chair back against the wall, and shook hands with all the ladies
round, and they charged me to come and see them without fail when I
returned to Plymouth. Somehow or other I found myself shaking hands
twice with Miss Troall, and she again thanked me for bringing her the
message from him who was gone; and I heard Miss Rundle remark as I went
out, that I was a very well-mannered young man, though I was a common
sailor.
It was rather later than I intended. I hurried down to the harbour,
jumped into a wherry, and promised the waterman half-a-guinea if I got
on board before dark.
"Why, lad, there's no great hurry, I should think," said he; "the
frigate won't sail without you."
"No; but a shipmate pledged his word for me that I would be back, and I
must not let him break it, you know."
"Well, we wasn't so particular in my time," said the old man. "But as
your gold is as good as that of any other man, I'll do my best to put
you on board."
The wind was against us, so his mate and I took the oars while he
steered, and by dint of hard pulling we got on board just about ten
minutes before my time was up. I told Mr Merton how it was I had run
the time so short, and gave him an account of all that had happened to
me. He was very much pleased with me at finding that I had been so
anxious to come off in good time, and urged me on all occasions to make
every sacrifice, rather than break a pledge of any description. Charley
and I were in the same watch, and he was very anxious to hear how I had
fared on shore. Of course, he could not care about my grandmother's
death, but he was very much amused with my account of Miss Rundle, whom
he remembered well.
"I must go and pay her a visit the next time I can get on shore, and if
I can take her some wonderful present from the other side of the world,
I expect to cut you out in her good graces," he said, laughing. I asked
him what he proposed taking. "An alligator, or a shark, or a mermaid,
or an orang-outang, or something of that sort--stuffed, I mean," he
answered.
I remembered Charley's love of a practical joke in our younger days, and
I did not wish to interpose between him and the venerable spinster. I
thought that he would not do anything really to annoy her.
Our captain came on board the next morning in high spirits. He had got
leave to go to Teneriffe, in company with his Majesty's sloop-of-war
_Talbot_, to cut out the two West Indiamen taken by the French
privateer. No sooner, however, did we get out of the Channel than we
met with strong westerly winds, which nearly blew us back into its chops
again. However, not to be daunted, we kept hammering away at it, and
though we in the frigate made tolerably fine weather, those on board the
sloop had wet jackets for many a day. We had been out about ten days
when two sails hove in sight, running with canvas set before the wind.
One we made out to be a large brigantine, the other was a ship,
evidently an English merchantman. The ship stood on, and when we fired
a gun to make her heave-to, let all fly, while the brigantine hauled her
wind and tried to make off. We sent a boat aboard the ship, and found
that she was an English merchantman belonging to Bristol, which had been
captured by the brigantine. The privateer herself belonged to Saint
Malo, and was the very vessel which had taken the two West Indiamen we
were going to cut out. The Frenchmen taken in the prize gave us some
useful information as to where the two West Indiamen were lying.
The _Talbot_ meantime was proceeding in chase of the privateer, and very
soon coming within shot, knocked away the head of her mainmast and
brought her to. She was an important capture, for she had committed a
great deal of mischief, and, to our no small satisfaction, she had a
considerable sum of money on board her, which she had taken from various
captured vessels. Prize crews being put on board the two vessels, we
proceeded on our course, thrashing away in the teeth of the
south-westerly gale. However, at last, in about three weeks, we sighted
the island of Teneriffe, and hove-to that we might make arrangements for
the attack. This was on the 8th of December. At about four o'clock in
the afternoon, all the boats assembled round the frigate under the
command of our first lieutenant. We had four boats, and there were
three belonging to the corvette. I was in the boat with the first
lieutenant. She was a very fine, fast boat, pulling six oars. Merton,
who had volunteered, was in one of the other boats, under the command of
one of the master's mates of the frigate, and Charley Iffley was with
him. When all was ready, the signal was given, and with three hearty
cheers we shoved off from the frigate's side. We acted as a sort of
whipper-in to the other boats, and we kept pulling about among them to
keep them together, our lieutenant dropping a word to one and then to
another, just to make the people laugh and to keep them in good spirits.
It was some hours after dark, and nearly ten o'clock, as we approached
the harbour of Santa Cruz. We then had all our oars muffled, and in
perfect silence we entered the harbour, all keeping close together. As
we got well in we lay on our oars for a minute, to make sure which were
the two ships to be attacked. We made them out through the darkness.
Four boats were to attack one ship, under the command of our lieutenant,
while the three others pulled away to the second ship. The signal was
given, and dashing off at full speed, we were alongside in a moment.
The Frenchmen little expected us, but they flew to their arms and made a
stout resistance. Some were cut down--others were hove overboard--the
cables were cut--our men flew aloft to loosen sails, and as quickly
almost as I take to tell the story the ship was under weigh and standing
out of the harbour. The other three boats were not so fortunate. The
noise we made in attacking the first ship, our shouts, and the cries and
curses of the enemy, aroused the people of the second ship, so that they
had time to man their guns, of which she carried ten, before the boats
got alongside. Our commanding officer, seeing this, ordered one of the
midshipmen to take charge of his boat, in which I was, and of another in
which was Mr Merton, to go to the assistance of our shipmates. With
hearty cheers, to show that aid was coming, we pulled away towards them,
but as we advanced we were received with a hot fire of musketry and
round shot. The officer in the other boat, which was close to us, was
killed, but Merton sprang to the helm, and cheering on the men, they
pulled up towards the ship. Just then a round shot struck our boat,
cutting her right in two, killing one man, and wounding two. Instantly
she began to fill, and very soon we could not move her through the
water. She was sinking under us. The shot came round us thick as hail.
I could not see where the other boats were, or what had become of my
shipmates, but I caught a glimpse of the ship standing out of the
harbour. I thought I heard Mr Merton's voice shouting out to the
people, and I was pretty certain he was doing something; but what with
the darkness, and the firing, and the confusion and noise, it was some
little time before I could decide in which way to strike out. What
became of my companions in the boat I could not tell. Looking up, I saw
a vessel not far off from me, and so I swam away with all my strength
towards her. I got hold of her cable and rested myself, hoping to see
some of the boats, or perhaps the second ship; but when I looked found I
saw that there was little chance of our people taking her, for she
mounted, as we knew beforehand, ten guns, and that a strong crew had
been put on board her was evident from the hot fire she kept up.
The Spaniards had aroused at last, and the forts were blazing away at
the boats which were pulling with all their might down the harbour. All
hope of regaining the frigate must therefore, I saw, be abandoned. The
vessel I was hanging on to was a large schooner. Her people were all on
deck, and, to my great satisfaction, I heard them talking English. By
this I knew that she was an American, and I determined to trust to their
kindness. I therefore hailed, "Schooner, ahoy! Just heave me a rope,
will you, to save me from drowning."
"Well, I don't mind if I do," said a man, looking over the bows; and he
heaving me a rope's-end, I quickly hauled myself up on board.
I found myself among three or four of the schooner's crew. "You must
come along aft to the mate," said one of them.
I accordingly accompanied them aft, where we found the mate, who asked
all about me, and I told him how we had come into the harbour to cut out
the two West Indiamen.
"Well, small blame to you, my man," said the mate. "We don't wish you
ill, but we must see what the captain has to say to you."
The captain was on shore, but as soon as the firing was over he came on
board. Meantime I watched as far as I could what was taking place, and
I had the satisfaction of seeing one of the ships get out of the
harbour, and I hoped the boats had reached her also. The American crew
seemed inclined to treat me very civilly; and when the captain came off,
and I told him all that I had told the mate, "Well, my man," said he, "I
am sorry for it, but I am afraid that I must take you before the Spanish
governor to-morrow morning; because if I do not, I may get myself into
trouble. However, go below, and get your wet clothes shifted. You
shall have some food and a glass of grog, and we'll see about it in the
morning."
I went below. I was soon rigged out in warm, dry things, had a jolly
hot supper, and I must say was never more kindly treated in my life.
When I turned in, I felt that I ought to be thankful that I had not been
killed like some of my shipmates. But still I could not help thinking,
"The curse is still following me--the boat I was aboard was the only one
destroyed."
The next morning, when I went on deck, I saw one of the officers doing
duty. I looked at him hard. I was certain I knew his face. I put out
my hand. "La Motte," said I, "do you know me?"
"I should think I did indeed, Weatherhelm," he answered, laughing, and
shaking my fist warmly; "it is a good many years since we saw each
other." I told him that the captain said he would have to take me to a
Spanish prison. "Oh, that is all nonsense," he answered; "I'll soon
manage that. All you have to do is to join this craft, and we can
protect you. I'll just say that you are an old shipmate of mine, and
I'll soon make it all right."
Accordingly he took me to the captain, who was too glad to get an able
seaman on board his vessel, and he promised me if I would sign the
articles that I should have thirty dollars a month. I had not much
difficulty in balancing this offer against the prospect of a Spanish
prison. Now I honestly believe, that had she been a privateer, and I
should have had to fight against my own countrymen, nothing would have
tempted me to accept the offer. However, I decided at once. "I'll join
you," said I, "and am ready to sign the articles whenever you like."
That evening I found myself, like many other British seamen, converted
suddenly into an American. La Motte told me that he had been wrecked on
the American coast, and having been kindly treated, he had joined one of
their merchantmen, when shortly afterwards he was made a mate. The
schooner was called the _Skylark_, and was a remarkably fine and fast
vessel. At that time, while all the rest of the world were at war, the
Americans remained neutral, and their merchantmen made a great deal of
money by becoming the carriers for all the belligerent parties. This
was a wise policy in all respects, but still wiser would they have
proved themselves had they adhered to it. While it brought wealth and
prosperity to their newly established republic, it laid the foundation
of that naval power which enabled them to contend for a time even with
England herself, and has since enabled them to take an important part in
the transactions of the world. The schooner had been employed to bring
out a new governor for the islands from Cadiz, and she was waiting to
convey the former one back to Spain. He, however, was not ready, and
the schooner was detained a long time. Still I had no reason to
complain. Teneriffe was a very pleasant place; the captain and first
mate of the schooner were very kind sort of men, and La Motte, for old
friendship's sake, did his best to make my life agreeable. Perhaps, had
we been less idle, it would have been better for us all. The great
difficulty the officers had, was to find work for the men. We painted
and polished, and scrubbed and used up every particle of rope-yarn, and
turned in all the rigging afresh before Senor Don Longwhiskerandos
announced that he was ready to take his departure.
The voyage was not to be without danger, for there were English cruisers
watching all the Spanish and French ports; and though they could not
have touched us on the high seas, they would have made prize of us, had
they caught us trying to enter an enemy's port. I never heard the real
name of the governor. We called him Don Longwhiskerandos just for
shortness' sake, for it was fully three times as long as that. He
looked a very important personage, and awfully fierce, and did little
else than smoke cigars, and let a black man attend on him as if he was a
mere baby. We had fine weather, and the Don sat on the deck in great
state, when a sail was made out on our weather quarter. As she drew
near there could be little doubt from her appearance that she was an
English frigate. I borrowed a glass from La Motte. I took a long,
steady look at her, and I felt certain that she was my old ship the
_Brilliant_. Meantime our helm was put up, and off we went before the
wind to endeavour to increase our distance. She made sail of course in
chase, and I began to consider whether it would not have been better to
have gone to a Spanish prison than be taken as a deserter, and cruelly
flogged, if not hung. I pictured all sorts of dreadful things to
myself, and earnestly prayed that the schooner might escape the frigate.
If I was in a fright, Don Longwhiskerandos was in a still greater. He
tore his hair and wrung his hands, and walked about the deck uttering
all sorts of extraordinary expressions, calling on I don't know how many
saints to come and help him--while blackie followed him with his
snuff-box and a handkerchief, and seemed trying to console him. La
Motte, however, laughed at my apprehensions. He said that of course it
was known that I had not willingly left the ship, and that I had a right
to save my life in the best way I could. Still I was not satisfied. On
came the frigate. We pressed the schooner with all the canvas she could
carry. She walked along at a great rate, and so did the frigate. A
stern chase is a long chase, but I had very little expectation that we
should escape. If we could keep ahead till night, then we might have a
better chance.
It was well on in the afternoon when we saw two sail ahead. From the
whiteness of their canvas and the squareness of their yards, they were
evidently men-of-war. If they should prove English cruisers, we were
fairly caught in a net, and Don Whiskerandos would have very little
chance of seeing his wife and family for a long time to come. Still our
captain was a resolute man, and one who would never give in while a
prospect of escape remained. The helm was put down, and we kept up five
or six points towards the French coast, thinking that we might keep
clear of them all till night set in, and might then escape in the
darkness. The officers kept their glasses on the strangers. One was a
frigate, the other a corvette. They made sail when they saw us.
Evening was closing in. "Hurra, my lads," shouted our captain, "up go
the French colours. I thought by the cut of their canvas they were
Frenchmen, and our friends!" How strangely those words sounded in my
ears! To be glad to fall in with Frenchmen, and to call them our
friends!
Once more we altered our course. In a short time the ships of war made
out the English frigate, and allowing us to go ahead, then clewed up
their topsails and waited for her. She saw them, and nothing daunted,
under all sail stood on to close them before nightfall. Now, for the
first time, I felt a little regret that I was not on board my own ship,
she looked so proud and bold going into action against so superior a
force. Oh, how I wished that I could find myself on her deck alongside
my former shipmates, whom I pictured to myself standing at their guns,
bared to the waist, with handkerchiefs round their heads, looking stern
and grim as became men about to fight with heavy odds, yet every now and
then cutting a joke with each other in the exuberance of their spirits.
I thought if I could now but jump overboard with something to float me
till she came up, and then I would climb up her side, and say that I had
come to join them. Still, when I thought again, I knew that she was not
likely, even if I was seen, to heave-to to pick me up, and I abandoned
the idea as too hazardous. As the frigate got up to them, the two
French ships let fall their canvas, and began to manoeuvre to gain the
weather-gage; but she was too quick for them, and getting up to the
corvette first, gave her such a dose from her broadside as must have
made the Frenchmen dance to a double-quick tune. Our captain's object
was to land his passengers, so of course he could not stop to see the
result of the action. As we ran out of sight, all three ships were
hotly engaged. "Well, if there's one man on board who will do his duty,
and show what real Englishmen are made of, its Joe Merton," I said to
myself.
For some time after nightfall I could hear the sound of their guns borne
over the calm waters, and then all was silent, and we continued our
course to the French coast. Two days after this we were again chased by
an English sloop of war; but the _Skylark_ showed a faster pair of heels
than she did, and we ran her out of sight. At length, after being
chased away from various ports, we entered the mouth of the Gironde
river in France, which runs down from Bordeaux. We were some days
getting up to Bordeaux, where we landed Don Longwhiskerandos and his
black slave and all his property, and hoped to get a return cargo. But
there were no freights to be had; so, as the Don described the schooner
as being a very fast craft, the French Government offered a large sum
for her, which our captain was too glad to accept. The mates and crew
accordingly received their wages, and we were all turned adrift. Now I
found that there was a great chance of my being in a much worse
condition than ever. Of course I hailed as an American, and if the
police had found me on shore without a ship, I should have been seized
and sent to serve on board a French man-of-war. On every account I must
avoid that, I felt. In the first place, I did not wish to serve with
Frenchmen; and in the second, had any ship I might have been in been
captured, I should have been looked upon as a deserter and a traitor,
and very likely shot.
La Motte, as an English subject, was in the same condition, except that
he had never served on board a man-of-war. Accordingly he and I talked
the matter over before we left the schooner, and agreed that it would
never do to trust ourselves on shore. We saw ahead of us a ship under
Hamburguese colours, taking in a cargo of wine for Hamburg, which was a
free port. When, therefore, we left the schooner, we pulled alongside,
and asked if she wanted hands. The captain said yes; he would ship us
at once. He spoke very good English, and the mate we had reason to
suspect was an Englishman, as were several of the crew. So much the
better, we thought. I at all events was very glad to get to sea. Four
or five days afterwards, just as we got into the English Channel, the
captain called us aft, and told us that, instead of going to Hamburg, he
expected to proceed to London; but that he had received directions to
put into the Island of Guernsey first to wait for orders. I was very
glad to hear this news, for I thought there was a chance of my seeing
old England again sooner than I had expected.
"Yes, that may be very true," observed La Motte. "But how will you see
it? The first night you put your foot on shore you will be pressed to a
certainty, and quickly find yourself on board a man-of-war, and a slave
as before."
"No, not a slave," said I indignantly. "I'd rather go and serve
willingly than be pressed, that's the truth; but no one has a right to
call British men-of-war's men slaves. They may be pretty hardly tasked
sometimes; but they get pay and prize-money and liberty, and if they did
but know how to take care of their money, and would but conduct
themselves like rational beings, the good men would have no reason to
complain." The truth was, that La Motte had got the notion entertained
by most merchant seamen, and encouraged by shipowners as well as masters
and mates, that men-of-war were all alike, little better than hells
afloat; that all naval officers were tyrants, and all men-of-war's men
miserable, spiritless slaves. Why, even in those times they were
generally better treated than merchant seamen, and now the lot of the
two cannot be compared. There's no class of men better cared for,
better fed, better clothed, and more justly treated, than the British
man-of-war's man. I don't want to cry down the merchant service, or
owners or officers of merchant ships, but this I will say, that the most
comfortable, happy merchantmen I have seen have been those commanded by
naval officers.
We were within half-a-day's sail of Guernsey, and were expecting to get
in there next morning, when a heavy gale sprang up from the north-west,
and before we could take the canvas off the ship--for we were very
short-handed--every yard of it was blown out of the bolt-ropes. We were
in a bad way, for we were already too much to the southward. Still our
captain hoped, if we could bend fresh sails, to weather the islands; but
all that nook of the coast is full of rocks and dangers, and tides
setting here and there, so that it is difficult to tell where a ship
will be drifted to. Twice we tried to bend fresh sails; but each time
they were blown away, before we could hoist them to the yards. Darkness
came on. Two of our shipmates were hove off from the lee yard-arm, and
their despairing shrieks reached our ears as they drifted away, a
warning to us of what might be our fate.
"We have some Jonah on board," I heard the first mate observe to the
second. He was a rough sailor, such as are not often met with
now-a-days, though then they were common. "If we could find him, we
would heave him overboard."
I remembered too well what I had often thought about myself, and felt
thankful that I had kept my own counsel since I was on board, and had
not told my story. The night came on very dark. I do not believe
anybody in the ship knew exactly where we were. Several hours of deep
anxiety passed away. The ship began to labour dreadfully. All we could
hope was that, when daylight returned, we might find ourselves clear to
the northward of all dangers, and then with tolerable sea-room we might
expect to make sail so as to carry the ship into an English port. Vain
were our hopes. Suddenly there was a cry, "Breakers ahead! breakers on
the lee beam!" The ship struck, again and again, with terrific
violence. The masts went by the board; then she seemed to be lifted
over the ledge, and we found her floating in smoother water. We hoped
that we were in some bay where we could bring up and ride out the gale;
but it was too dark for us to distinguish our position. The captain had
just given the order to let go an anchor, when the fearful cry was
uttered, "The ship is sinking! the ship is sinking!"
"Get the boats out, my men; no hurry, now!" cried the captain; but it
was not quite so easy to obey the order or to follow the advice. The
long-boat was stove in; but we had a gig and a whale-boat hanging to the
ship's quarters. We ran to the falls. La Motte and I, with some
others, leaped into the whale-boat just as the ship sank beneath our
feet. We shouted out to the rest of our shipmates that we would try to
pick them up, but we could see no one. Though I said the sea was calmer
than on the other side of the reef, still we had no little difficulty in
keeping the boat from swamping. We could not tell either in which
direction to pull. All we could do, therefore, was to keep the boat's
head to the sea, and wait till daylight, which we knew was not far off.
At length it came, as it always comes at last to the weary and the
watchful, if they will but patiently wait for it. As the dawn gradually
broke we found that we had been drifted into a bay, and that the shore
was not four hundred fathoms from us. There was a good deal of surf
breaking on it, so that it was necessary to use caution in landing.
Waiting out opportunity, we gave way and drove the boat high up on the
beach. A sad sight met our view; the sand on each side was covered with
portions of the wreck and casks of wine, many of them stove in; but
sadder far it was to see the bodies of our late shipmates hove up dead
on the beach, while one or two were still washing to and fro in the
surf, as if the sea were yet loth to give up its dead. Perhaps there is
no more melancholy sight than that for a seaman to behold. We examined
the bodies; they were all dead; but as we looked about we came upon some
marks of feet in the sand, leading up the beach, and this gave us hopes
that some of our companions had escaped. I saw La Motte looking
inquiringly about him. I asked him if he knew where we were.
"Yes, that I do," he answered. "At no great distance from my home.
Come along with me, Weatherhelm. My family will be glad to welcome an
old shipmate."
Just as the sun got up we saw several people approaching, and were truly
glad to find among them our captain and three of the crew. They took
charge of the men who had been saved with us, while I set off with La
Motte to his home. It was a large farm-house standing by itself. He
looked round the building, and in at one or two of the windows, but
could not make up his mind how to announce himself. "I am afraid of
giving some of them a fright if I were to appear too suddenly," he said.
At last he told me that I must go in and tell them that I was a
shipmate of his, and that he would be there soon. So I opened the door,
and an old lady came out and spoke to me, but I could not understand a
word she said, and then an old gentleman made his appearance, with white
hair, with a long red waistcoat and greatcoat, but he could not help on
the conversation. At last they went to the back of the house, and
called "Janette! Janette!" and a young girl, with her petticoats tucked
up, came tripping in, as if she had just been milking the cows, and she
asked me, in broken English, what I wanted; and when I replied that I
knew Jacob La Motte, and was a shipmate of his, they seemed very much
interested, and not a little agitated. When I saw this, I thought the
sooner I told them that he was all right and well the better, and then,
to their astonishment, I ran out of the house and called him, and he
soon had both them and several other young boys and girls all hanging
round his neck, and kissing him and asking him all sorts of questions.
I envied him--I could not help it. I had no father or mother, or
brothers or sisters, to care for me, so even at that moment I felt very
desolate and forlorn. However, they soon recollected me, and then they
all did their best to make me happy and comfortable.
The days passed very quickly away. I never had been so happy and merry
in my life. Though the old people could not speak English, they
understood it a little, and I soon picked up French enough to make out
what I wanted to say; and then all the younger people could talk
English, though among themselves they always spoke French. As we lived
on so quietly and peaceably in that pretty farm-house, no one would have
supposed that all the horrors of war were being enacted in the
surrounding seas. It might have been supposed that neither of us would
ever have wished to leave those quiet scenes, but after a time La Motte
began to grow fidgety, and said he must think of getting employment. At
last away he went to Peter-le-port, the only town in the island. He was
away three or four days, and when he came back he told me that he had
taken service on board a privateer, one of the fastest craft out of the
island. "She is called the _Hirondelle_," he said. "You never set eyes
on a more beautiful craft. She is lugger-rigged, mounts sixteen guns,
and will carry a hundred and twenty hands, all told, fore and aft.
There is nothing will look up to her. I could not resist the temptation
of joining her. Her crew will have six months' protection from the
pressgang. That alone is worth something. Now is your opportunity,
Will, for making your fortune. Don't throw it away. By the time you
are paid off you'll have your pockets full of money, and then come and
settle down here. That is what I intend to do."
His reasonings and arguments seemed irresistible. Still I held off. I
was balancing between my wish to go and see Aunt Bretta at Southsea and
the old lady and her niece at Plymouth, and trying to find my way back
to my ship. I had an idea that the latter was the right thing to do.
Still, unhappily, I had not always been accustomed to do what was right,
and now found it easy to do what was wrong. I told him, in reply, what
I wished to do, and what I thought I ought to do; but he laughed at all
my reasonings, and before the day was over I had consented to go and
enter on board the lugger. In those days not many people thought there
was any harm in privateering. Many do not think so now. Still there
were some who looked upon it as little better than a sort of lawful
piracy, and made but little scruple in running down an enemy's
privateer.
I found the _Hirondelle_ everything La Motte had described her. We had
not been out a week before we had taken a couple of prizes, and we
recaptured a number of English vessels which had been taken by the enemy
and were on their way into French ports. As we were low in the water
and had short stumps for masts, by lowering our sails we could lie
concealed till we could make out what sort of craft were heaving in
sight. We therefore ran but little risk of catching a Tartar, as
privateers very often do.
I remained in the privateer upwards of a year and a half, and at last
peace came, and the crew were paid off, and she was laid up. Though I
had spent my money pretty freely when I was on shore, still I found
that, what with wages and prize-money, I had fully four hundred pounds
in my pocket. This I might well look on as a handsome fortune to begin
life with on shore, and carefully managed it was enough to set a young
man up in business. I have known numbers of seamen go on shore with far
larger sums, and spend the whole in the course of a few days, but then
they have never--poor ignorant fellows!--read the book of Solomon, or,
if they have, profited by the wise advice contained in it. I spent a
few days with the La Motte family, but the thoughts of Aunt Bretta, and
still more, perhaps, that quiet evening spent at Plymouth, were
constantly coming into my mind; and wishing him and them good-bye, I
shipped myself and my fortune aboard a cutter bound for Portsmouth.