Three years have passed since the events recorded in our last chapter
took place; and, at the end of that period we find our hero, whom we
must still style William Thornton, third Lieutenant of the Diamond
frigate, commanded by his sincere friend Captain Sir Sidney Smith. To
add to his pleasure at this appointment, procured through the interest
of Lord Hood, his attached friend and companion, Patrick O’Loughlin,
was first Lieutenant of the same ship. Our hero had passed an
examination with considerable credit. The Diamond frigate was ordered
to cruise off Brest, in company with the Flora and the Arethusa. Before
we proceed with our story, we will briefly record the events of the
three years, so far as they biassed the fortunes of our hero.
Having received the prize-money due to him from the capture of the
Bon-Citoyen, William Thornton placed it under the control of Mr.
Stanmore, for the benefit of Mabel Arden, Lieutenant O’Loughlin
insisting on giving a similar sum.
“You shall repay me,” said the generous sailor, when our hero
remonstrated, “when the little girl becomes your wife, and she regains
her rights.”
“But, my dear friend,” replied our hero, “that event is not likely to
occur. I love the dear child as a sister, and will protect her as long
as she requires a protector; but I am not at all in love; and certainly
a little girl, not quite thirteen, and not very beautiful, is not very
likely to create the tender passion such as the fair Agatha inspires in
the bosom of my gallant friend.”
“Oh! bother about tender passion: wait a bit,” said the Lieutenant; “in
the meantime let the thing be as we have fixed it, and let us turn your
attention to making inquiries about my dear benefactor, Sir Oscar de
Bracy.”
Mr. Stanmore was made their confidant in this affair also. He listened
with great patience, and agreed that it appeared extremely probable
that William Thornton was, in fact, Sir Oscar de Bracy’s son, at the
same time taking down all the dates and names and particulars they
both could give him. He then told them they must allow him time—a few
days—to make inquiries.
During that period, Mabel Arden had become acquainted with Mr.
Stanmore’s amiable daughters. Rose, the youngest, was just a year
older than Mabel, and at once she took a great fancy to her. Mabel was
charmed with the kindness of Mr. and Mrs. Stanmore and family. When
informed of the conduct of Sir Godfrey Etherton, she only expressed her
bitter regret that her dear, kind-hearted brother William should suffer
such haughty treatment and indignity on her account. As to the contents
of the casket, she was positive her mother had placed in it cases of
valuable jewels, and many most important papers; but she still hoped
her dear mother would yet arrive, and prove to the cold-hearted Sir
Godfrey Etherton that he had cruelly wronged her.
Mrs. Samson’s establishment for young ladies, where the Misses Stanmore
were to proceed in a few days with Mabel, was situated near Windsor.
Mabel burst into tears when she heard of William Thornton’s and
Lieutenant O’Loughlin’s generosity. She felt their kindness deeply; it
made a strong and forcible impression on her most affectionate nature.
Madame Volney and her daughters were most comfortably located, and
promised not to lose sight of Mabel, and it was arranged she should
spend her holidays alternately with them and the Stanmores.
Agatha Volney had really become attached to the handsome and generous
O’Loughlin. She had studied English so successfully, and the French
with such assiduity, that, before they left London, Patrick O’Loughlin
declared French to be the most delightful language for making love in
the world.
“I have tried love-making, my boy,” he exclaimed to our hero, “in
Irish, in English, and without speaking any language at all; but, be
the pipers of war! give me French from this night.”
“Ah!” replied the midshipman, laughing, “wait till you have a trial in
Italian—that’s the sweet language for love.”
“Oh, bother!” returned the Lieutenant, “I’m settled for life. She’s
promised to marry me when I’m a post-captain.”
“The deuce!” cried our hero, whistling. “Post-captain! Why, O’Loughlin,
has the pretty Agatha taken a sudden fancy to grey whiskers?”
“Don’t you imagine, my boy,” said the Lieutenant, laughing, “that I am
going to wait for that, with this fine, hot war. Wait awhile—we shall
go to work directly.”
Whilst Mr. Stanmore was making his inquiries concerning Sir Oscar
de Bracy, William Thornton set out for a visit to the cottage of
his generous and kind-hearted protector, the coxswain, there to
remain a week with him. He found the old couple hale and hearty.
The coxswain felt so proud of his adopted son, and so elated at his
conduct during the time he had served with Lord Hood, that he swore
roundly he was sure to be an admiral. The old man also felt intensely
anxious concerning Mr. Stanmore’s inquiries with respect to our hero’s
parentage.
He recollected very well, when he first saw the child on the deck of
the Surveillante frigate, that the men said the boy’s name was Oscar.
Indeed the child, when questioned, lisped some kind of word like
Oscar, but that he considered an outlandish name, and was sure it was
not real, but some pet term; it was not ship-shape: so he called him
William, after himself.
At the termination of a week, our hero returned to London, having
received a letter from Lieutenant O’Loughlin, stating that he had been
appointed First Lieutenant of the Diamond frigate, commanded by Sir
Sidney Smith, who was very anxious to see him in London, and wished
him to serve the rest of his time as midshipman with him. This was
agreeable tidings to our hero; so, taking an affectionate leave of his
early protector, he proceeded to London. Through Lord Hood’s interest
he got appointed to the Diamond. Whilst in London he was constantly
at Madame Volney’s. Mabel was at Mrs. Samson’s; no tidings of her
mother having reached England had yet been received, which caused much
uneasiness to the young man, as well as to his _protégée_, for he
feared some untoward event had baffled Jean Plessis’s endeavours to
rescue the Duchess.
Mr. Stanmore was at length enabled to give our hero the result of his
inquiries respecting Sir Oscar de Bracy.
“It appears,” said the solicitor one day, when our hero was dining with
him previous to his departure for Plymouth, where the Diamond frigate
was stationed; “it appears that Sir Oscar de Bracy is the last of a
very old Irish family, who settled in that country about the time of
Elizabeth, having conquered by the sword a large tract of territory in
the west, and the head of that family was created a baronet by James
the First.
“Since that period, from one cause or another, their fortunes have
declined, and the property become divided, so that at present the
family of de Bracy is represented only by Sir Oscar, the last male
descendant of the Irish de Bracys. He had a sister, who is said to have
died abroad when very young. Sir Oscar de Bracy and this sister, it
seems, were left orphans, with only a small estate, near Bantry—I think
about five hundred a year. The former became a commander in the navy,
and, it is said, succeeded to a very large portion of the forfeited
estates of the Kerry de Bracys—six or seven thousand a-year, I hear—by
the death of a distant kinsman. Who he married I have not yet learned,
now he is Governor of ——, in India; but is shortly expected home.
“I have ascertained, after some difficulty, that Lady de Bracy and her
child embarked, with their attendants, in the Spitfire gun brig, to
proceed to Plymouth, with the intention of going out to India in the
Penelope frigate. But neither the brig, nor any human being belonging
to her, was ever seen or heard of from the time she left Bantry. Now,
by comparing dates, there appears to me no question in the world but
that the Spitfire brig was the vessel run down by the French ship
the Surveillante, and that you are the child saved in the long boat,
jolly-boat, or whatever name you sailors give to those affairs. It
would be amazingly satisfactory if we had that Lieutenant Volney’s
written statement, and the picture; but as that is out of the question,
I fear, we can only state facts as they are to Sir Oscar, when he
arrives in England, and, no doubt, your likeness to him or your poor
mother, or the proofs we can show, with old Thornton’s statement, added
to Madame Volney’s, will be quite sufficient to convince your father.
Nature will do something.”
Such was the substance of the information our hero received. He had
only to remain patient, till time, which reconciles most things, should
bring him and his father together. He, accordingly, shortly after,
proceeded to Plymouth, and joined the Diamond, and, after three years’
more service, he, as we said, passed his examination, and became third
Lieutenant of the Diamond, and proceeded to cruise off Brest.
The last letters he had received were from Mr. Stanmore, stating that
Sir Oscar had stopped, from ill-health, at the Cape; no tidings had
been heard of the Duchess, and that Mabel Arden had grown into a lovely
girl; that Sir Godfrey Etherton was dangerously ill, and that young
Howard Etherton had quitted the service and returned home.
“Now, my lad,” said his friend, Lieutenant O’Loughlin, “what do you
say to that? Your little Mabel, whom you had the impudence to call
plain, with eyes like a gazelle! Now, you see, she has turned out, what
I always prophesied, a lovely girl. I am astonished at you! What’s
beauty! Faith, now I recollect, you were half in love with that——”
“Come, come, O’Loughlin,” interrupted our hero, laughing, “do not think
to have it all your own way. Perhaps if I were to give Agatha Volney a
little sketch of a certain——”
“I cry quits,” said the Lieutenant, with a smile; “but, by the
way, Agatha’s sister is going to be married shortly to young Lord
Stinthorp—a splendid match. Madame Volney, fortunately, has been left a
very handsome legacy by a relation who died out at Cuba, which places
her in a position she is entitled to fill.”
“I rejoice to hear it, old friend. Where did you get all this
intelligence?”
“In letters brought out by the Etna gun-boat. We go out to the
Mediterranean before we return to England, so that it may be some time
before we receive news again.”
One morning after this conversation, Sir Sidney Smith received orders
from Sir John Borlais Warren, who commanded the force, to proceed with
the Diamond, and have a look into Brest harbour. This order aroused
the spirits and energies of the frigate’s crew, because there was
considerable risk in the undertaking. Anything but an inactive life for
a British sailor.
The Diamond was accordingly disguised as much as possible, so as to
resemble a French frigate.
With the wind blowing due east, the frigate commenced beating up for
the entrance, and as it approached, the crew could perceive three
French ships of war, also working up to windward. As the day declined,
Sir Sidney made up his mind to anchor, so as to be able to take
advantage of the next flood tide. The frigate therefore let go her
anchor between Porte St. Matthew and the Bec-du-Rez. Distant about
two miles from them was perceived a large ship, and nearer to the
Bec-du-Rez lay a remarkable looking vessel, lugger-rigged.
The moment William Thornton turned his glass upon this last-mentioned
vessel, he said aloud:—
“By Jove! that’s her.”
“What is it, Thornton?” inquired Sir Sidney, coming to his side.
“I am sure I know that lugger, Sir Sidney,” replied our hero. “The
light is fading away fast, still I am positive that vessel is the
famous privateer, the Vengeance; the craft we fought when in the Babet,
and when we took the Bon-Citoyen schooner.”
“The deuce it is! I have heard a great deal of that lugger, which seems
to defy all our cruisers, and has taken a number of prizes. I wish
it were possible to cut her out, but we should be detected by that
man-of-war close alongside her.”
“We should have taken her, sir, the time we were engaged with her and
the schooner,” said our hero, “but for the dense fog; as it was, we
knocked her main-mast out of her. The crew of the Bon-Citoyen said she
belongs to Havre and that there’s not a craft afloat can touch her.”
“A very vain-glorious boast,” said Sir Sidney; “we may chance to catch
hold of the fellow some day or other. We must be under weigh by eleven
o’clock, for the flood-tide will have made by that time.”
“There’s another large ship, sir, further up; but she is not distinctly
visible, being partly behind the point.”
“Oh, we will have a look at her,” returned Sir Sidney.
By twelve o’clock the Diamond was again under weigh, and, with easy
sail, continued working up the noble inlet forming the many harbours
designated as Brest. On nearing the ship at anchor, they could make her
out to be a ship of the line; still they created no suspicion.
“By my conscience,” said O’Loughlin to our hero, as they paced the
deck, “we are making free and easy with the enemy’s port; if that big
fellow yonder only knew who we were, wouldn’t it wake him out of his
sleep!”
“The very daringness of the thing, our so coolly sailing up into the
very heart of this vast port, lulls suspicion,” remarked our hero; “for
if the slightest idea was entertained, they could blow us out of the
water, from the forts on each side.”
“We shall pass close to that other frigate, William, at anchor within
there; but the ebb will make before we get much further.”
“I wish we could just give that lugger a shot, _en passant_,” said our
hero.
“Ah, mon ami,” replied Lieutenant O’Loughlin, “now we have other fish
to fry.”
The Diamond continued under weigh till daylight appeared, and then
could be discerned two ships coming through the Geulet (as it is
called) de Brest, and in Cameret Road could be counted fifteen small
craft at anchor, and a large ship aground on Menow point.
About eight o’clock in the morning, Sir Sidney, having surveyed all
round with his glass, declared that there were no ships of war in Brest
Road; the Diamond, therefore, was kept away towards St. Mathieu.
“Now, by Jove!” said Lieutenant O’Loughlin, “will be the tug of war;
depend on it we shall be challenged by yonder fort.”
“That is the Château de Bertheaume,” observed our hero, who, an hour
before, had been studying the chart of Brest harbour. “Ah! there go the
signals.”
All hands were on the alert on board the Diamond, and up went the
national colours of France in the frigate. As they stood in, a French
corvette, sailing along Bertheaume Bay, seemed not to admire the
appearance of the Diamond, or, at all events, to become suspicious, for
several signals were hoisted, and she hauled in close under the Château.
The Diamond was now compelled to pass within hail of the French
line-of-battle ship, which was under jury-masts, yards, and topmasts,
but did not appear to have any main deck guns, whilst the crew seemed
remarkably busy at the pumps, the ship evidently leaking much.
Sir Sidney, who knew Lieutenant Thornton spoke French exceedingly
well, desired him to hail, and ask the French Commander if he required
assistance. This was done, and the reply was “No.” They said the ship
was the Nestor, which had been dismasted in a gale of wind, and had
parted from the fleet twenty-seven days before.
The Diamond then crowded all sail, and, notwithstanding her perilous
situation, got clear away in broad daylight, and before mid-day joined
her consort, the Arethusa.
This happened in the month of January; and, during the two following
months, the Diamond and Arethusa took several valuable prizes. In one,
in the month of March, Lieutenant O’Loughlin was sent to England with
despatches, whilst the Diamond proceeded to cruise along the French
coast.
About the middle of April, Sir Sidney stood in, and came to an anchor
in the outer road of Havre. He was induced to do so from our hero
having caught sight, during the previous night, of a large lugger
creeping along shore, evidently intending to make Havre.
Lieutenant Thornton fancied that this large lugger might be his old
antagonist, the Vengeance, which belonged to that port; they had
heard from the captain of an English brig, some days before, that a
French privateer, lugger-rigged, and full of men, had captured a large
Sunderland barque, and, after plundering her, had tried to scuttle her;
but, seeing an armed brig and two cutters coming up from the westward,
had made sail. Luckily, the crew of the barque contrived to stop the
leaks, and steered for the nearest port.
It was about an hour after sun-rise when the Diamond anchored, and at
once Lieutenant Thornton made out the lugger at anchor in the inner
road.
“Do you think it is the Vengeance?” said the Commander of the Diamond
to our hero, who was regarding her with his glass.
“I’ll swear to her,” said the Lieutenant; “she has a new main-mast and
main lug, and a new mizen mast, and I know we knocked the old one out
and damaged her mizen.”
“Then I will cut her out,” said Sir Sidney, “to-night. I wish
O’Loughlin was here; however I will take the command of the boats
myself; you shall lead with the launch, into which I will put an
18-pounder carronade.”[5]
It is rather unusual for a commander, on such an occasion, to take the
command of the boats; but Sir Sidney had a gallant and daring spirit.
The second Lieutenant was therefore left with the master, who was a
most excellent pilot, to take charge of the frigate.
This was an expedition that delighted our young Lieutenant, and excited
all on board. Bill Saunders, who followed our hero like a shadow, and
who had shipped on board the Diamond the moment he heard of Lieutenant
Thornton’s appointment, was one of the crew of the launch, and in high
glee. Bill was a special favourite with officers and men, for he was
not only a first-rate seaman, but always steady and sober, as fond of
a lark as a boy, but knew when to enjoy one without infringing on his
duty.
There were five boats in all, and in number about fifty-two men, but,
excepting the launch, the boats had only muskets. Sir Sidney himself
embarked in a two-oared wherry.
It was very little after ten o’clock when the expedition pushed off
from the side of the Diamond. Sir Sidney had in the wherry with him a
young midshipman named Beecroft, and in the launch with our hero was
another midshipman named Westly Wright. The night was extremely calm,
but not very dark; they could see the shore of the Seine on both sides
and the lights in the town of Havre.
Sir Sidney led the boats, however, in the wherry; and having pulled on
in regular order till perfectly in sight of the lugger, they all paused
till their Commander should fix upon the mode of attack.
“It is a hazardous exploit, Mr. Thornton,” said the midshipman sitting
beside our hero, “for our Commander to lead in this affair; should
anything happen, the Diamond is in a precarious position.”
“Her master is an able pilot,” returned Lieutenant Thornton, “and I
trust nothing will happen to our high-spirited and most kind-hearted
Commander, though I confess I wish there was a breeze, if it was ever
so light, for the tide is beginning to make up the river.”
The wherry rode up, and Sir Sidney ordered the boats to take a broad
steer between the shore and the lugger, so as to assume the appearance
of fishing-boats coming out of the harbour.
This they accordingly did; and the ruse succeeded, or what is more
probable, a bad look-out was kept on board the Vengeance, but the boats
finally made for the object of their attack without any symptoms of
their being noticed. Our hero resolved to reserve his fire until the
lugger should open upon them. They had reached to within pistol-shot,
when a wreath of smoke curled out from the lugger’s side, and a shower
of grape passed over the boats, tearing up the water, splintering the
side of the launch, and wounding two men.
“Now, my lads,” exclaimed our hero, “pepper them! And stand by, Bill
Saunders, ready to grapple her.”
“Aye, aye, sir; we must not let her go this time.”
The next minute they were alongside; and springing upon the deck,
boarding her on the quarter, our hero encountered Sir Sidney, coming
aft, having boarded her from the bow. After a ten minutes’ conflict,
the lugger’s crew surrendered, but the first mate stole forward, and
with an axe cut the cable. This was not perceived for a moment, till
Bill Saunders came running up, saying:—
“She’s adrift, sir, and fast going towards the shore.”
“Then hunt for an anchor and let go, Bill,” cried the young lieutenant,
going aft to speak to Sir Sidney, who was talking to the Captain,
Auguste Baptiste Gaudet, a tall powerful man, with a remarkably
repulsive countenance.
“This gentleman,” said Sir Sidney, laying his hand on our hero’s arm,
and little thinking how destructive and dangerous those words would
prove to his officer; “this gentleman very nearly captured you once
before, when you lost your main mast.”
“Sacre dieu—what!” exclaimed the privateer Captain, “was it Monsieur
who took the Bon-Citoyen?”
“Yes,” returned Sir Sidney, “and shot her captain also.”
“Sacre diable!” muttered the Captain, with a savage scowl, which
neither our hero nor Sir Sidney saw or noticed, for both were anxiously
regarding their then critical situation.
“I shall return on board the Diamond,” said Sir Sidney; “do you order
the boats ahead, and set all the sail you can on the lugger, put the
prisoners into the boats, and send them ashore at Harfleur.”
“There’s not an anchor in the craft,” said Bill Saunders to our hero,
after Sir Sidney had left.
But just then one of the men shouted out that they had found a small
kedge, which was accordingly let go, when they discovered that neither
the boats ahead nor the sails would move the lugger against the strong
flood tide making up the river Seine. Day was approaching, when
Lieutenant Thornton perceived that the lugger had dragged, and that at
last she had brought up, two miles higher up than the town of Havre,
nearly abreast of Harfleur. The launch, after landing the prisoners,
had pulled back to the Diamond, and Sir Sidney Smith perceiving, as
the daylight made, several vessels coming out of Havre to attack and
re-take the lugger, gallantly put back to her assistance, resolved
to defend her to the last; a most spirited determination, but an
unfortunate one, as will be seen in our next chapter.
FOOTNOTES:
[5] Fact.