"The _Solway Castle_, homeward-bound East Indiaman," he answered.
This was indeed satisfactory news, as I should now, I trusted, be able
to get back to my dear wife without the necessity of asking leave. I
might indeed almost consider myself a free man, for I did not feel that
it would be my duty to return to the _Galatea_, considering that the
prize I had been put on board had gone down. After the doctor had left
me, the sick bay attendant brought me a basin of soup which wonderfully
revived me, and in shorter time than the doctor said he expected I could
not help acknowledging that I was almost myself again.
I felt very sad as I thought of the loss of young Mr Harvey and my old
friend Dick Hagger; still the hopes of so soon being at home again made
me think less of them than I might otherwise have done, and contributed
greatly to restore my strength. I was treated in the kindest way by the
doctor, and many others on board, who, having heard my history,
commiserated my hitherto hard fate. A fair breeze carried us up
Channel. When I was able to go on deck I kept a look-out, half
expecting to see an enemy's ship bear down on us, although, unless she
should be a powerful frigate or line-of-battle ship, she would have had
a hard job to capture the _Solway Castle_, which was well armed, and
carried a numerous crew. Still I could not help recollecting the old
saying, "There's many a slip between the cup and the lip." The truth
was, I had not yet recovered my full strength, and the doctor remarked
that I required tonics to set me up and drive gloomy thoughts out of my
head. We kept well over to the English coast to avoid the risk of
falling in with French cruisers. We had got abreast of Portland when a
strange sail was made out to the southward, which, as she was seen
edging in towards the land, it was supposed without doubt was an enemy.
The passengers, of whom there were a good number returning after a long
absence from India, began to look very blue.
"Never fear, ladies and gentlemen," I heard the captain observe, "we'll
show the Frenchman that we're not afraid of him, and the chances are,
make him afraid of us." Saying this, he ordered the studden sails we
had carried to be taken in, and the royals to be set, and then bringing
the ship on a wind, boldly stood out towards the stranger. The effect
was as desired. The stranger, hauling her wind, stood away to the
southward, taking us probably for a line-of-battle ship, which the stout
old "tea chest" resembled at a distance. By yawing and towing a sail
overboard, we stopped our way, until the captain thought the object had
been answered, when once more, squaring away the yards, we continued our
course up the Channel.
As we passed the Isle of Wight, I cast many a look at its picturesque
shores, hoping that a pilot boat might put off at the Needles, and that
I might have the opportunity of returning in her, but none boarded us
until we were near the Downs, when, unfortunately, I was below, and
before I could get on deck the boat was away. However, I consoled
myself with the reflection that in another day or two we should be safe
in the Thames, and I resolved not to lose a moment in starting for
Portsmouth as soon as I stepped on shore. I thought that I might borrow
some money from my friend the doctor, or some of the passengers, who
would, I believed, willingly have lent it me, or if not, I made up my
mind to walk the whole distance, and beg for a crust of bread and a
drink of water should there be no other means of obtaining food. My
spirits rose as the lofty cliffs of Dover hove in sight, and rounding
the North Foreland, we at length, the wind shifting, stood majestically
up the Thames. When off the Medway, the wind fell, and the tide being
against us, we had to come to an anchor. We had not been there long
when a man-of-war's boat came alongside. I observed that all her crew
were armed, and that she had a lieutenant and midshipman in her, both
roughish-looking characters. They at once stepped on board with an
independent, swaggering air. The lieutenant desired the captain to
muster all hands. My heart sank as I heard the order. I was on the
point of stowing myself away, for as I did not belong to the ship, I
hoped to escape. Before I had time to do so, however, the midshipman, a
big whiskered fellow, more like a boatswain's mate than an officer, with
two men, came below and ordered me up with the rest. The captain was
very indignant at the behaviour of the lieutenant and the midshipman,
declaring that his crew were protected, and had engaged to sail in
another of the Company's ships after they had had a short leave on
shore.
"Well and good for those who are protected, but those who are not must
accompany me," answered the lieutenant. "We want hands to man our
men-of-war who protect you merchantmen, and hands we must get by hook or
by crook." Having called over the names, he selected twenty of the best
men who had no protection. I was in hopes I should escape, when the
midshipman pointed me out.
The lieutenant inquired if I belonged to the ship. I had to acknowledge
the truth, when, refusing to hear anything I had to say, though I
pleaded hard to be allowed to go free, he ordered me with the rest into
the boat alongside. Having got all the men he could obtain, the
lieutenant steered for Sheerness, and took us alongside a large ship
lying off the dockyard, where she had evidently been fitting out. She
looked to me, as we approached her, very much like an Indiaman, and such
I found she had been. She was, in truth, the _Glatton_, of one thousand
two hundred and fifty-six tons, which had a short time before been
purchased, with several other ships, from the East India Company by the
British Government. She was commanded, I found, by Captain Henry
Trollope, and carried fifty-six guns, twenty-eight long
eighteen-pounders on the upper deck, and twenty-eight carronades,
sixty-eight pounders, on the lower deck. Her crew consisted in all of
three hundred and twenty men and boys, our arrival almost making up the
complement. The ship's company was superior to that of most ships in
those days, although somewhat scanty considering the heavy guns we had
to work.
We were welcomed on board, and I heard the lieutenant remark that he had
made a good haul of prime hands. It was a wonder, men taken as we had
been, could submit to the severe discipline of a man-of-war, but all
knew that they had do help for it. They had to run the risk of being
flogged or perhaps hung as mutineers if they took any steps to show
their discontent, or to grin and bear it.
Most of them, as I did myself, preferred the latter alternative. I had
never before seen such enormous guns as were our sixty-eight pounder
carronades, larger than any yet used in the service,--indeed, their
muzzles were almost of equal diameter with the ports, so that they could
only be pointed right abeam. We had neither bow nor stern-chasers,
which was also a great drawback. Some of the men, when looking at the
guns, declared that they should never be able to fight them; however, in
that they were mistaken. Practice makes perfect, and we were kept
exercising them for several hours every day.
The ship was nearly ready for sea, and soon after I was taken on board
we sailed from Sheerness, for the purpose of reinforcing the North Sea
Fleet under Admiral Duncan. In four or five days, during which we were
kept continually exercising the guns, we arrived in Yarmouth Roads.
Scarcely had we dropped anchor than we were ordered off again to join a
squadron of two sail of the line and some frigates, commanded by Captain
Savage of the _Albion_, sixty-four, supposed to be cruising off
Helvoetsluis.
Next morning, long before daylight,--it had gone about two bells in the
middle watch,--we made the coast of Flanders, and through the gloom
discovered four large ships under the land. The wind, which had
hitherto been fresh, now fell, and we lay becalmed for some hours in
sight of Goree steeple, which bore south by east. We and the strangers
all this time did not change our relative positions. That they were
enemies we had no doubt, but of what force we could not make out. As
the day wore on, a breeze sprang up from the north-west; at the same
time we saw two other good-sized ships join the four already in view.
We instantly made all sail, and stood towards the strangers, making
signals as soon as we got near enough for them to distinguish our
bunting. No reply being made, we were satisfied that they were an
enemy's squadron. There were four frigates and two ship corvettes,
while a large brig corvette and an armed cutter were seen beating up to
join them from leeward.
"We're in a pretty mess. If all those fellows get round us, they'll
blow us out of the water, and send us to the bottom," I heard one of the
sailors who had been pressed out of the Indiaman observe.
"Our captain doesn't think so, my boy," answered an old hand. "Depend
upon it, he intends trying what the mounseers will think of our big
guns."
The order was now given to clear for action, and we stood on with a
light breeze in our favour towards the enemy. The wind freshening, the
four frigates, in close line of battle, stood to the north-east.
Shortly afterwards they shortened sail, backing their mizzen-topsails
occasionally to keep in their stations. We were nearing them fast. Up
went the glorious flag of Old England, the Saint George's ensign, just
as we arrived abreast of the three rearmost ships, the two corvettes and
the smallest of the frigates. Our captain ordered us, however, not to
fire a shot until we had got up to the largest, which he believed from
her size to be the commodore's, and intended to attack.
"I wonder what we are going to be after?" I heard the man from the
Indiaman inquire. "We seem to be mighty good friends; perhaps, after
all, those ships are English."
"Wait a bit, my bo', you'll see," answered the old hand, "our captain
knows what he's about. If we can knock the big one to pieces, the
others will very soon give in."
The ship next ahead of the commodore had now fallen to leeward, so that
the latter formed the second in the line. Not a word was spoken. I
should have said that as we had not men sufficient for our guns, for
both broadsides at the same time, we were divided into gangs, one of
which, having loaded and run out the gun, was directed to leave it to be
pointed and fired by the others, picked hands, and we were then to run
over and do the same to the gun on the other side. We thus hoped to
make amends for the smallness of our numbers.
The ship we were about to attack was evidently much larger than the
_Glatton_, upwards of three hundred tons as it was afterwards proved,
but that did not daunt our gallant captain. We continued standing on
until we ranged close up alongside her, when our captain hailed and
desired her commander to surrender to his Britannic Majesty's ship. No
verbal reply was made, but instead, the French colours and a broad
pendant were hoisted, showing that the ship we were about to engage was,
as we had supposed, that of the commodore. Scarcely had the colours
been displayed, than she opened her fire, her example being followed by
the other French ships. We waited to reply until we were within twenty
yards of her. Then we did reply with a vengeance, pouring in our
tremendous broadside. The shrieks and cries which rose showed the
fearful execution it had committed.
Still the French commodore continued firing, and we ran on, keeping
about the same distance as before, exchanging broadsides. Meantime the
van ship of the enemy tacked, evidently expecting to be followed by the
rest of the squadron, and thereby drive us upon the Brill shoal, which
was close to leeward. The van ship soon after arrived within hail of us
on our weather-beam, and received our larboard guns, which well-nigh
knocked in her sides, while the groans and shrieks which arose from her
showed that she had suffered equally with her commodore. Anxious to
escape a second dose of the same quality of pills, she passed on to the
southward, while we cheered lustily at seeing her beaten. We had not
much time for cheering; we were still engaged with the commodore on our
lee bow, while the second largest frigate lay upon our lee quarter,
blazing away at us. Just then our pilot shouted out, "If we do not
tack, in five minutes we shall be on the shoal!"
"Never mind," answered the captain; "when the French commodore strikes
the ground, put the helm a-lee."
Just as he spoke, the French ship tacked, evidently to avoid the shoal,
and while she was in stays, we poured in another heavy raking fire which
well-nigh crippled her. Meantime the other French ships had gone about.
"Helm's a-lee!" I heard shouted out, but as our sails and rigging were
by this time terribly cut about, it seemed as if we should be unable to
get the ship round. The wind, however, at last filled our sails, and
round she came. We, as well as the Frenchmen, were now all standing on
the starboard tack. The three largest frigates had fallen to leeward,
and could do us but little damage, but the three smaller ones kept up a
harassing long-shot fire, to which we, on account of the distance, could
offer but a very slight return. All our topmasts being wounded, and the
wind freshening, it became necessary to take a reef in the topsails. In
spite of the risk we ran, the moment the order was issued we swarmed
aloft, though we well knew that at any moment the masts might fall,
while the enemy's shot came flying among us.
The frigates and the two corvettes to leeward, seeing us cease firing,
stood up, hoping to find us disabled; but springing below, we were soon
again at our guns, and gave them such a dose, knocking away several of
their yards, that they soon stood off again to join the other ships,
which had already had enough of it. I forgot to say that latterly we
had had the brig and the cutter close under our stern, and as we had no
guns with which to reply to the smart fire they opened, we could only
fire at them with musketry. After a few volleys, however, they beat a
retreat, and as night closed down upon us, all firing ceased on both
sides. The Frenchmen had fired high, and our sails and rigging were too
much cut up to enable us to follow them. Strange as it may appear,
scarcely a dozen shot had struck the hull, and in consequence,
notwithstanding the tremendous fire to which we had been exposed, we had
not had a single man killed, and two only, the captain and corporal of
marines, wounded. The former, however, poor man, died of his wounds
shortly afterwards. During the night every effort was made to get the
ship into a condition to renew the action. At daybreak we saw the
French squadron draw up in a close head and stern line. By eight
o'clock, having knotted and spliced our rigging, bent new sails, and
otherwise refitted the ship, we stood down to offer battle to the enemy,
but they had swallowed enough of our sixty-eight pounders, and about
noon they bore away for Flushing. We followed until there was no hope
of coming up with them, when our ship's head was turned northward, and
we steered for Yarmouth Roads, to get the severe damages we had received
more effectually repaired than we could at sea.
I afterwards heard that the large French frigate we had engaged was the
_Brutus_, which had been a seventy-four cut down, and now mounted from
forty-six to fifty guns. We saw men and stages over the sides of the
French ships stopping shot-holes, and we heard that one of them had sunk
in harbour.
I was in hopes that we should go back to Sheerness to refit, and that I
might thus have an opportunity of getting home. I had done my duty
during the action, so had every one else. The wind freshening during
the night, the hands were ordered up aloft to shorten sail.
"Be smart, my lads," I heard the officer of the watch sing out, "or we
may have the masts over the sides."
I was on the main-topsail yard-arm to leeward, when, just as I was about
to take hold of the ear-ring, the ship gave a lurch, the foot rope,
which must have been damaged, gave way, and before I could secure
myself, I was jerked off into the sea. It was better than falling on
deck, where I should have been killed, to a certainty. I sang out, but
no one heard me, and to my horror, I saw the ship surging on through the
darkness, and I was soon left far astern. I shouted again and again,
but the flapping of the sails, the rattling of the blocks, and the
howling of the wind drowned my voice.
At the same time the main-topgallant mast with its sail and yard was
carried away. I saw what had happened, and I feared that two poor
fellows who had been handing the sail must have been killed. Their fate
made me for the moment forget my own perilous condition. When I saw
that I had no hope of regaining the ship, I threw myself on my back to
recover my breath, and then looked about, as I rose to the top of a sea,
to ascertain if there was anything floating near at hand on which I
might secure myself. Though I could see nothing, I did not give way to
despair, but resolved to struggle to the last for life. Having rested,
I swam on until a dark object appeared before me. It was a boat, which,
though filled with water, would, I hoped, support me. I clambered into
her, and after resting, examined her condition. She was, as far as I
could ascertain, uninjured. I had my hat on, secured by a lanyard, and
immediately set to work to bale her out with it. I succeeded better
than I could have expected, for though the sea occasionally washed into
her, I managed by degrees to gain upon the water. At length I found
that her gunwale floated three or four inches above the surface. This
encouraged me to go on, and before daybreak she was almost clear. When
dawn broke I looked out, but no land was in sight, nor was a sail to be
seen. I was without food or water, but I hoped to be able to endure
hunger and thirst for some hours without suffering materially.
The day went on, the hot summer's sun beat down upon my head, and dried
my clothes. Several sail passed in the distance, but none came near me.
There was nothing in the boat with which I could form even a paddle. I
looked round again and again, thinking it possible that I might find
some spar which might serve cut in two as a mast and yard. I would
then, I thought, try to steer this boat to land, with the help of one of
the thwarts, which I would wrench out to make a rudder, using my clothes
tacked together as a sail.
Such ideas served to amuse my mind, but no spar could I see. Another
night came on, and, overcome by hunger, thirst, and weariness, I lay
down in the bottom of the boat to sleep. At length I awoke. Some time
must have passed since I lay down. I felt so low, that I scarcely
expected to live through another day should I not be picked up. I
looked about anxiously to ascertain if any sail was near; none was
visible, and I once more sank back in a state of stupor. I knew nothing
more until I found myself in the fore peak of a small vessel, a man
sitting by the side of the bunk in which I lay feeding me with broth.
In a few hours I had recovered sufficiently to speak. I asked the
seaman who had been attending me, what vessel I was on board.
"The _Fidelity_, collier, bound round from Newcastle to Plymouth," he
answered. "We picked you up at daybreak. The captain and mate thought
you were gone, but I saw there was life in you, and got you placed in my
bunk. You'll do well now, I hope."
I replied that I already felt much better, thanks to his kind care, and
asked his name.
"Ned Bath," he answered. "I've only done to you what I'd have expected
another to do for me, so don't talk about it."
He then inquired my name. I told him, giving him an outline of my
history, how I had been carried off from my wife, and how cruelly I had
been disappointed in my efforts to get back to her.
"You shan't be this time if I can help it, Will," he said, "and as soon
as we get into Plymouth, I'll help you to start off for Portsmouth.
I've got some wages due, and you shall have what money you want, and pay
me back when you can."
I thanked him heartily, feeling sure that Uncle Kelson would at once
send him the money, and accepted his generous offer. I could not help
hoping that we might meet with a foul wind and be compelled to put into
some nearer port; but the wind held fair, and we at length sighted the
Eddystone, when, however, it fell calm. Not far off lay a frigate which
had come out of the Sound. Several other vessels were also becalmed
near us. I was looking at the frigate, when a boat put off from her and
pulled towards one of the other vessels. She then steered for another
and another, remaining a short time only alongside each.
"She's after no good," observed Ned; "I shouldn't be surprised if she
was picking up hands. We've all protections aboard here. You'd better
stow yourself away, Will. Jump into my berth and pretend to be sick,
it's your only safe plan."
This I did not like to do, and I guessed if Ned was right in his
conjectures, that the officer who visited us would soon ascertain there
was one more hand on board than the brig's complement. Unhappily he was
right--the boat came alongside. It was the old story over again. Just
as I had expected to obtain my freedom, I was seized, having only time
to give Ned the address of my wife, to whom he promised to write, and to
wish him and my other shipmates good-bye, when I was ordered to get into
the boat waiting alongside. She, having picked up three or four more
men from the other vessels becalmed, returned to the frigate, which was,
I found, the _Cleopatra_, of thirty-two twelve-pounder guns, commanded
by Captain Sir Robert Laurie, Bart., and bound out to the West Indies.
I very nearly gave way altogether. In vain, however, I pleaded to be
allowed to go on shore. I acknowledged that I belonged to the
_Glatton_, and promised faithfully to return to her as soon as I had
visited my wife. My petition was disregarded, my statement being
probably not even believed. A breeze springing up, all sail was made,
and the _Cleopatra_ stood down Channel.
I must pass over several weeks. They were the most miserable of my
existence. Three times I had been pressed, when on the very point, as I
supposed, of getting free. I began at last to fancy that I never should
return on shore. Though my spirits were low, I retained my health, but
I did my duty in a mechanical fashion. My shipmates declared that for
months together they never saw me smile.
At length, after we had visited the West Indies, we were cruising in
search of an enemy, when soon after daybreak we sighted a ship standing
to the eastward, we having the wind about north-west. Instantly we made
all sail in chase. Every one was sure that she was an enemy, and from
her appearance we had no doubt that she was a big ship. She, observing
that she was pursued, stood away from us before the wind. All day we
continued the chase. Everything was done to increase our speed. We
began to be afraid that the enemy would escape us. The sun went down,
but there was a bright moon, and numbers of sharp eyes were constantly
on the watch for her. We marked well the course she was steering.
Anxiously the night passed away. When daylight returned, the watch on
deck gave way to a shout of satisfaction, as in the cold grey light of
dawn she was seen right ahead rising out of the leaden waters. One
thing was clear, we were overhauling her surely, though slowly. We went
to breakfast, the meal was quickly despatched, and we were all soon on
deck again to look out for the stranger. In a short time there was no
doubt about her character. The order was given to clear the ship for
action. As I heard the words, I felt more cheerful than I had done
since I came on board. Strange as it may seem, my spirits rose still
higher when the stranger was made out to be a forty gun frigate. By
half-past eleven he shortened sail, and hauled his wind to allow us to
come up with him, and hoisting his colours at the same time, we now knew
him to be a Frenchman. Probably he had run away at first thinking that
we were the biggest ship, whereas in reality, as we afterwards
discovered, he was vastly our superior, not only in the number of his
guns but in weight of metal, for they were eighteen-pounders, and while
we had only 200 men fit to work our guns, he had 350. The _Cleopatra_
measured only 690 tons, while the enemy's ship, which was the _Ville de
Milan_, measured 1100, and carried forty-six guns. We also shortened
sail ready for action, and directly afterwards began to fire our
bow-chasers, which the enemy returned with his after-guns. Thus a
running fight was carried on for some time, we in no way daunted by the
vastly superior force with which we were engaged.
At about half-past two we were within a hundred yards of the _Ville de
Milan_, when she luffed across our bows and poured in a crashing
broadside, while we, passing under her stern, returned her fire with
good interest. We now ranged up within musket-shot, on the starboard
side of our big antagonist, and thus we kept running parallel to each
other, sometimes on a wind and sometimes nearly before it--we trying to
prevent her from luffing again across our bows or under our stern, and
she not allowing us to perform the same manoeuvre. Never in a single
combat was there a fiercer fight. We worked our guns with desperate
energy--not that we ever doubted that we should be the victors, but we
knew that we must fight hard to win the victory.
For upwards of a couple of hours we had been hotly engaged, when a loud
cheer broke from us. We had shot away the enemy's main-topsail-yard.
We, however, had suffered greatly, not only in spars, but our running
rigging had been literally cut to pieces. A number of our men, also,
lay killed and wounded about our decks; and though the latter were
carried below as fast as possible, their places were rapidly supplied by
others doomed to suffer the same fate.
The loss of the enemy's main-topsail-yard caused us to forge ahead, but
unhappily, from the condition of our running rigging, we could neither
shorten sail nor back our main-topsail. Our captain therefore resolved
to endeavour to cross the bows of the _Ville de Milan_.
The order was given to put the helm down. At that moment a shot struck
the wheel, knocking it to pieces and killing one of the men standing at
it. There we lay, with the ship utterly unmanageable and at the mercy
of our opponent. It was enough to make us weep with sorrow, but instead
of that we set to work to try and get tackles on to the tiller to steer
by.
"Look out, my lads! stand by to repel boarders!" sang out our captain.
At that moment the enemy bore up and ran us on board, her bowsprit and
figure-head passing over our quarter-deck, abaft the main rigging. I
was on the quarter-deck. As I saw the bows of our huge enemy grinding
against our sides, our ship rolling terrifically, while the other was
pitching right at us as it were, I felt that never were British courage
and resolution more required than at that moment. It was put to the
test.
"Repel boarders!" was the shout. On came the Frenchmen, streaming in
crowds over their forecastle. We met them, cutlass and pistol in hand,
and with loud shouts drove them back to their own ship. They must not
have been sorry to get there, for every instant it appeared that our
gallant frigate would go down under the repeated blows given us by our
opponent. I do not believe, though, that such an idea occurred to many
of us. We only thought of driving back the enemy, of striving to gain
the victory. All this time our great guns were blazing away, and the
marines were keeping up a hot fire of musketry, while the enemy were
pounding us as sharply in return.
Not a minute of rest did they afford us. Led on by their officers, with
shouts and shrieks they rushed over their bows and down by the bowsprit
on to our deck. Every inch of plank was fiercely contested, and
literally our scuppers ran streams of blood.
Try and picture for a moment the two ships rolling, tumbling, and
grinding against each other, the wind whistling in our rigging (for it
was blowing heavily), the severed ropes and canvas lashing about in
every direction; the smoke and flames from our guns, their muzzles
almost touching, the cries, and groans, and shouts; spars and blocks
tumbling from aloft; the decks slippery with gore; the roar of big guns,
the rattle of musketry, the flash of pistols, the clash of cutlasses as
we met together; and some faint idea may be formed of the encounter in
which we were engaged.
Once more the enemy were driven back, leaving many dead; but we also
suffered fearfully. Still we persevered. For an instant I had time to
look round. I saw the shattered condition of our ship, my brave
companions dropping rapidly around me, several of our lieutenants
severely wounded, and for the first time the dread came over me that we
must strike our flag or sink at our quarters, for I felt convinced that
the ship could not stand much longer the sort of treatment she had been
undergoing.