THE INFERNAL.
The midshipman, at the close of his letter, written in the most
affectionate spirit, particular reference being made to his rescuers,
Walter, Ned, and their companions in the boat, on that occasion, said,--
"You will recollect, my dear sir, that when you first hove in sight,
on the day of the gale, it was not so thick as afterwards, and then
a person in either vessel could, with a glass, easily make out the
other; but, shortly after I fell overboard, it shut down thick of snow.
During that time, our captain and first luff (lieutenant) recognized
the Arthur Brown, knew her to be the same vessel that was almost under
the guns of the Lowestaff in a fog, some months ago, and that she
gave chase to. The officers and crews of all the other vessels had a
good chance to look at her, when you lay so long under the guns of
the castle, after running the fire of the flag-ship. Her masts rake
so much, she carries such a cloud of canvas and is such a beautiful
model, that there is no mistaking her, although you have altered her
paint since the last trip. The fleet has taken scarcely any prizes, so
that all are hungry for prize-money. Every one of us from the admiral
to the powder-monkeys, feel chagrined at being thus bearded; that our
reputation as seamen will suffer if you should again escape us. There's
another motive. We all know if we could take the Arthur Brown, and
put a few light guns on board of her, she would catch everything on
the coast, and fill our pockets with prize-money. Add to this, your
slapping our captain in the face with your flag, the other day, and
you will perceive how matters stand between us. In short, while your
noble treatment of myself and shipmates has gained you the respect and
good will of every one,--and you would experience the utmost kindness,
should you fall into our hands,--believe me, you have a difficult task,
and one which will tax your resources to the utmost, for the fleet are
determined to have the brigantine, or sink her. I could not do less
than put those, to whom I owe my life, on their guard. But, from what
I have seen of yourself, the character of your crew, and the capacity
of the brigantine, I should not be so much surprised as my shipmates,
should you, by some of those chances which always seem to turn up in
favor of your people, escape us, though it by no means becomes me, as a
British officer, to express any such desire."
The ship's company of the brigantine being, with the exception of
Jacques, all Americans, most of them having grown up together from
childhood, and a good part of them shipmates on the last voyage, the
relation between officers and crew was very different from that usually
existing on shipboard.
The communion was also more intimate from the fact that no one was
hired, each having a share in the risk and profits of the voyage, and
that they were bound together by a sense of common danger, cherished
a personal attachment to each other, and reposed perfect confidence
in the ability of the captain, insomuch that Quesnard, who marked
with curious interest the manner in which things went on board the
brigantine, said that he "would vote for a king in France if they could
have a government like the government of that vessel."
Upon receiving the letter, Captain Brown, calling his officers and crew
together, read it to them, remarking, "You see, boys, what they are
preparing for us."
They received the communication without much emotion of any kind. Henry
Merrithew observed, in his drawling way,--
"Yes, cap'n, I see what they calc'late; but they say 'a bird in the
hand is worth two in the bush.' Me and George here, and Elwell, was
figerin' up on our chists, with chalk, what each man's share of this
cargo of silks and other truck that we are taking in will come to. If
it comes to as much as the one we've just discharged,--and Elwell,
who's been in the trade afore, judges it will come pretty well up,
cause sich stuff is high now on account of the blockade,--why, I, for
one, think the game's worth the candle."
"It's my opinion, captain," said Sewall Lancaster, squirting the
tobacco-juice through his teeth over the rail, "that it's a good thing
for us these English are making the blockade so close, as long as we
kin run it; and I reckon we kin, because, as Henry says, it makes both
the cargo we fetch and the one we take away worth double; and I guess,
as that youngster says,--not wishing any harm to him howsomever,--that
something'll turn up on our side."
This cool preference of greater risk, with the prospect of greater
profit, was received with a universal murmur of assent.
"Well, boys," said the captain, folding up the letter, "I wanted to
know your minds, because we can't wait here a great while for a gale
of wind to drive the fleet from their anchors. We have sold our cargo,
and shall soon be short of provisions, and there are none to be had
here. We must take our chance, the first suitable night, to run their
battery, unless I can contrive some other way."
While the vessel was completing her lading, the captain seemed quite
thoughtful, and spent the greater portion of his time alone on a high
hill, called Viste, over which led the road to Paris, and commanding a
good view of the fleet.
The port of Marseilles is completely land-locked, being a salt water
lake, of the shape of an egg, half a mile in length, and a quarter of a
mile in breadth. The entrance into it is not more than a hundred yards
in width, and defended by strong fortifications.
From his situation on the hill, the captain soon had ocular evidence of
the accuracy of the statements contained in the letter he had received.
He saw that not only had the number of vessels cruising outside been
reduced to two, but they had formed a complete cordon across the
road, effectually stopping all egress, except by encountering their
broadsides at short range. The increased number of vessels also made it
evident to him that the night patrols would be doubled.
As the young captain--after a careful scrutiny of the disposition
of the vessels--sat with the glass lying across his knees, an idea
presented itself, which, on his way to dinner, he more fully matured.
"Jacques," said he, while eating, "what was it you were saying the
other day to a countryman of yours about a fire-ship? I can only catch
a word or two, here and there, of your dialect."
"I was telling him, captain, that there were two condemned vessels
lying here, one a privateer, and the other a Guineaman (slaver), and
the government was going to make fire-ships of them both, and send them
down among the blockading fleet, now that they are moored in such close
order."
"Indeed," replied the captain; but, making no further allusion to the
topic, he asked, "How is the water along the shore, from the outlet of
the port, as you go to the westward?"
"The shore is quite bold, captain, with a few shoal spots, for some
miles."
"Could you carry this vessel along shore, in the night, for two miles
without getting aground?"
"Yes, captain. I can feel my way with the lead, or I can carry you
through narrow passages, between islands and the main shore, where no
man-o'-war can follow."
The captain said no more, but, rising from the table, sought his
merchants, who went with him to wait upon the authorities. From them he
learned that the privateer only was to be fitted for a fire-ship; that
the magazine was already made, and the powder would be put on board
directly.
Captain Brown bought the slaver for a trifle, as she was fit only to
break up for her iron. He also bought some old sails, and then hauled
her alongside his own vessel. She was not far from the tonnage of the
Arthur Brown; and there was so much resemblance between them, that, in
the night, one might easily be mistaken for the other. They were both
brigantines, but the difference was this: the main boom of the slaver
was shorter, she had no royal-mast, and was painted differently.
The young captain now communicated his plans to his crew, who set
to work with a will to execute them. The main-boom was lengthened,
a royal-mast, royal-yard, and flying-jib-boom added, and she was
painted precisely like the Arthur. The old sails were limed to make
them conspicuous in the night, as, in this case, no concealment was
intended; ballast was put in, to give her the appearance of being
loaded; in short, even a close observer would not have distinguished
one from the other in the night. The two were now hauled near to the
entrance of the harbor, awaiting the motions of the fire-ship.
The moment the captain told his plans to his officers and crew, Walter
and Ned volunteered to take charge of the slaver.
"I don't believe," said the captain, "they will accomplish anything
with their fire-ship, except a scare."
"Why so?" asked the second mate.
"Because they must have a northerly wind to get down to the fleet, and,
with the wind that way, will not be likely to have a very dark night.
The guard-boats will probably see them before they get very near, and
give warning. It cannot be very hard work to get out of the way of a
vessel steering herself."
"I should like very well," said Walter, "to have the fleet scattered,
but have no desire that the young midshipman, whose life we labored so
hard to save, should be blown to pieces."
"He won't be," said Jacques.
"Why not he as liable as another?"
"Because the Agamemnon, the vessel he belongs to, is the fastest vessel
they have, and is most always cruising."
In the hold of the old privateer, near the foot of the mainmast,
was constructed a square room for a magazine, in which were placed
eight hundred barrels of powder. From this to the stern a fire-proof
passage-way or trunk was made, in which the train was laid, that it
might not explode prematurely. The train was ignited by a port-fire,
arranged to burn long enough to give those firing the train time to
escape.
The deck was filled with barrels of tar, dry wood, shavings, live
shells, pieces of pot-metal, spikes, broken glass, and links of
chains, to act as missiles when the explosion took place, and the guns
were loaded with grape shot.
[Illustration: THE EXPLOSION.]
Men who had volunteered for the duty were to fire the mass of
combustibles on deck in three places, and the train leading to the
magazine, all at the same moment, whenever the approach of the
fire-ship was discovered by the enemy. Then, the fire being applied,
and the helm lashed, she was to be left to make her own way.
The night, so anxiously expected, came at last, hazy, with here and
there a star just visible; the wind moderate, but fair, and enough of
it to give the vessels good headway. It was half an hour past midnight
when this infernal contrivance glided silently from the harbor and
passed the forts,--having the appearance of a blockade runner,--and
steered for the centre of the English fleet, followed by the slaver
with all her sails set. She, however, hove to, when a short distance
from the port, leaving the infernal to proceed alone.
Moments seemed lengthened to hours, as the boys, hanging over the rail,
gazed upon the dim outlines of the receding vessel, around which dark
shadows were closing fast. Although the distance was not great which
separated them from the fire-ship or the fleet, a thin haze, which
obscured the light of the stars, completely obstructed the view. With
bated breath they listened for some token from the bosom of that misty
shroud, which they strove in vain to penetrate.
No sound, save the occasional surge of the helm in the lee becket, or
the quiver of a sail, as the vessel came up to or fell off from the
wind, disturbed the repose of the night.
"Walter," whispered Ned, "this silence is fearful; they must be almost
there."
A pressure of his arm was the mute response. A few moments more of
suspense, when a stern hail broke the ominous silence so suddenly that,
with a convulsive start, the boys sprang to their feet. There was no
reply. Again the summons rose louder on the air, instantly followed by
a shot.
"They are discovered," said Ned. But even while the words were issuing
from his lips three spirals of bright flame, shooting up from the
fire-ship, revealed to the boys--who were looking from darkness towards
the light--a scene combining every element, both of the sublime and
terrible, and which thrilled them to the heart's core.
The period of French history, during which the events here narrated
occurred, abounded in the most startling contrasts. Acts of utter
selfishness and the most fiendish cruelty were relieved by others
manifesting the purest philanthropy and noble self-sacrifice. The crew
of the fire-ship, finding they were discovered, and foreseeing that if
they left the vessel to drift down by herself no damage would probably
be inflicted upon the enemy, after saying to each other, "We will cover
ourselves with glory, lay her alongside an English ship, blow her to
atoms, and die for France," kindled the mass of inflammable material on
deck in three places, and by this light, which constantly increased in
intensity, the boys beheld the black hulls of the English ships, every
shroud and rat-line standing out in bold relief against the dark sky,
and the boats' crews, who, supposing the vessel a blockade-runner, were
pulling from different directions to "board" her; but, when the flames
revealed her true character, there was an instinctive pause; they lay
upon their oars.
"Give way, my hearts of oak," shouted the officer of the leading boat;
"we'll put out their fire and their slow-match."
With an answering shout they dashed the oars into the water again;
but the flames burst from the port-holes and over the rail into their
very faces, rendering useless all attempts to board, the very purpose
for which this mass of material had been prepared and ignited. As,
expecting explosion, they pulled rapidly away, a volley from the
fire-ship killed the midshipman in charge and two men. The stern of
that vessel, where stood the four men, was as yet clear of flame, the
wind carrying the fire and smoke forward.
"Why, in the name of Heaven, don't they leave? There's a boat towing
astern," cried Ned; "she must blow up soon."
"Ned, those men don't mean to leave."
"Don't mean to leave!"
"No; they know if that vessel is left to steer herself, ten to one if
she strikes an English ship. They're going to sacrifice themselves."
Right ahead of the infernal, as near as they could swing at their
anchors, lay an eighty-gun ship and a sixty-four. It was evidently
the intention of these desperate men to lay her between them, apply
the match, and blow both themselves and their enemies into eternity
together. It seemed most probable that they would accomplish their
purpose; the breeze was light, and scarcely felt by the men-of-war,
whose crews had cut the cables and made sail, while the infernal, by
reason of momentum previously acquired, was coming down fast, bearing
destruction and death.
Now ensued an uproar impossible to describe. Blazing cinders and sparks
from the fire-ship blew on to the main-topsail of the eighty, which was
instantly in flames; but with that cool courage and perfect discipline
so characteristic of British seamen, the topmen cut the sail from the
yard, and passed water in buckets; the boats' crews were towing the
ship ahead, while at the same time a hot fire was kept up upon the
fire-ship from every gun that could be brought to bear; the other
ships, that were out of her path, also poured in whole broadsides, in
the hope of either blowing up or sinking her before she should get near
enough to do execution.
"That ship is gone for't," said Ned, as the helmsman of the infernal,
seeing the two ships were separating, and that he could hope to
destroy but one, altered his course, and steered direct for the
eighty. At this moment a well-directed broadside cut off the foremast
of the fire-ship, that, with all the head sails, went over the side.
This brought the vessel to the wind, and arrested her progress, the
man-o'-war improving the fortunate moment to escape.
The scene now grew appalling. The air was filled with the roar of
hundreds of cannon, while, as the now unmanageable vessel came head to
wind, the flames ran up the rigging of the mainmast and swept over the
place where those self-devoted men stood.
In the midst of this horrid din, a shell exploded on her deck, a flash
of blue flame illumined with its ghastly light the whole horizon,
followed by an explosion that made every vessel quiver as though racked
by the throes of an earthquake. The blazing mast shot up to the sky
like a rocket, followed by jets of water and torrents of flame, bearing
before them countless missiles, legs, arms, and other portions of
the dismembered bodies of that ill-fated crew, to which succeeded a
darkness made more intense by clouds of smoke, and a stillness as of
death.
As the smoke gradually lifted and drifted away to leeward before the
wind, the eyes of all in the fleet were naturally directed to the scene
of the explosion and the spot from which the infernal had disappeared,
when they beheld what they supposed to be the Arthur Brown coming
rapidly down before the wind, her snow-white canvas conspicuous against
the frowning sky. Instantly concluding that the shrewd Yankees had
improved this moment of confusion and alarm to escape, "The brigantine!
The brigantine!" rang out from many a boat's crew; and the water was
white with the foam of oars, as from all directions they dashed upon
their prey.
The boys, excited by the roar of artillery, the smell of gunpowder, and
the examples of daring they had witnessed, were now perfectly reckless.
"This is glorious, Wal," cried Ned. "I'm going to stick her for sea,
and give them a pull for it."
Notwithstanding a shot across their bows from the sixty-four, and a
volley of small arms from the boats, they refused to heave to; and it
was not till the man-o'-war's men were climbing over the side, that,
sliding down the painter, they cut the rope and pulled away with might
and main, the captors being too much occupied with their prize to
concern themselves about them.
Having put a good distance between themselves and the boats, they lay
upon their oars to breathe.
"Won't there be some swearing, Ned," said Walter, "when they come to
look over their prize, and find her a condemned slaver, full of rocks?"
"Yes; but I guess there will be more when they find what I have written
on the companion-way."
In the afternoon, while waiting for the fire-ship, Ned had written with
chalk on the slide of the companion-way the value of the Arthur Brown's
cargo, showing the man-o'-war's men what a rich prize they had lost,
closing with some reflections upon the disappointments to which mankind
are liable, and leaving the best respects of himself and Walter.
In the mean time the Arthur Brown, without a single sail set to attract
attention, propelled by muffled sweeps, and skilfully piloted by
Jacques, was creeping along under the shadow of the land in calm water,
till, entirely beyond the reach of observation, a kedge was silently
lowered to the bottom, and she waited for her boat. Upon the arrival
of the boys, with every inch of canvas spread, the swift vessel, now
swifter than ever (for she had been coppered in Marseilles--a recent
practice, and at that time scarcely known in the States), turned her
prow homeward.
Just as the sun rose above the horizon in the morning, the lookout at
the mast-head of the Agamemnon, sung out, "Sail, O!"
"Where away?"
"Right ahead, sir."
Mr. Reed beheld through the glass the well-known form of the Arthur
Brown, bathed in sunlight, studding sails, alow and aloft, with the
wind on her quarter making for the Straits of Gibraltar at a rate that
defied pursuit. A smile of satisfaction--which he walked forward to
conceal--passed over the fine features of the midshipman, as he took
the glass from his eye.
When, having composed his features, he reported to his superiors that
he knew the vessel, and that it was the brigantine, it was considered
useless to chase her; and long before eight bells struck, she had faded
from their view.