Julian Arden was unable to continue his narrative, for the corvette
had approached so close to the French coast as to require all her
commander’s attention to their situation. The Onyx was hove-to till
daybreak, and during the night was disguised as much as possible, so as
to resemble a French vessel of war. Towards morning the tricolour was
hoisted, and the vessel turned her head seaward. They were then about
three leagues to the eastward of Havre. It became a fine, clear day,
and before noon they beheld a fine French brig running for the port of
Havre.
The captain evidently mistook the Onyx for what she was not, for he
came unsuspectingly into the jaws of the lion, and when too late
endeavoured to fly; but the corvette ran alongside and took possession.
The brig had a rich cargo, and had, owing to the fog, escaped the
several cruisers to the westward, only to become a prize in sight of
her destined harbour.
“This is exactly what we wanted,” said Captain O’Loughlin to Julian
Arden; “this craft will furnish you with cash and garments suited to
your purpose, and also with papers. We will select these belonging to a
young seaman called Lebeau; I have looked them over. He is second mate
of this brig; about your age and height. I have ordered a suit of his
garments to be brought on board. The brig, with a midshipman and eight
hands, I will send across Channel to Portsmouth, and land her crew some
miles down along the coast. I will then put you on shore, with a supply
of cash, close to Havre, where you say the Château Coulancourt is
situated. With your perfect knowledge of French, you will easily pass
through the country without suspicion. I shall cruise on and off this
coast till I receive orders to go elsewhere. Now, should circumstances
arise that might induce you to return on board, you will recognise this
corvette, and any kind of signal, should we happen to be within sight,
will cause me to send a boat for you.”
Julian Arden warmly thanked the kind-hearted O’Loughlin for his
attention, and wish to render him service.
“You are the brother of Sir Oscar de Bracy’s protégé—that’s enough
to ensure my services; and if you were not, I should still wish to
serve you, now that I have the pleasure of knowing you,” replied the
warm-hearted sailor, pressing the young man’s hand.
As he was to be landed the following night, Julian Arden resumed his
adventures in the evening.
“We all felt relieved and highly elated on regaining our boat; well
aware how difficult would have been the enterprise against John
Sinclair and his associates had not the slaves broken their bondage.
The cause of all this bloodshed and fury on the part of the slaves,
Pompey told us, was the frightful cruelty practised upon them chiefly
by John Sinclair. For the slightest offence they were flogged till they
fainted, and the night the schooner stranded several tried to escape
along with Pompey. In revenge for this, John Sinclair and four of his
most hardened associates cruelly flogged and beat the rest, and pinched
their flesh with hot pincers, and other cruelties. One of their number
contrived to free his hands, and by the most incredible exertions he
freed two more, and then all were untied; and setting up a yell of
triumph, they broke down the sheds, seized the stakes as weapons,
and fell upon their oppressors just at the very moment we happened
to arrive. What became of them I know not; the schooner was entirely
burned, as well as the negro village. The boat with the seamen put to
sea, and were perhaps picked up, or landed farther down the coast.
“We made the best shelter we could for the rescued captives, and the
next morning early embarked on the lake, and by night-fall arrived on
the banks of the river without accident. The next day we reached the
settlement, and were received with shouts of joy and congratulations.
Colonel Packenham regained his senses on the restoration of his
beloved children, and four or five days’ rest completely restored him;
a week afterwards the French ships sailed, and we all returned to the
town. The inhabitants commenced at once to repair the damages committed
by the French, but, unfortunately, the fever began to show itself and
to spread fatally. Many were attacked and died. I had a slight seizure,
but soon recovered. Miss Packenham had a severe attack, but, thank
God, she recovered. One of Captain Stanhope’s daughters and poor Henry
Stanhope, who so bravely helped to rescue the Misses Packenham, fell
victims. So deeply anxious became the colonel to leave, that a month
afterwards we all embarked in a small English brig that put in from the
Cape. She was a slow sailer, and her captain a thorough seaman; but
the fates were against us; to avoid falling in with any of the French
cruisers, we steered a wide course. After getting a glimpse of the
Spanish coast, and just as we were flattering ourselves, and on the
eve of sighting the Irish coast, we were chased by a French privateer.
Our poor little brig, as I said, sailed like a tub, and on receiving a
shot through her mainsail hauled down her colours and backed topsails.
The privateer’s boats came alongside, put a prize crew on board, but
otherwise behaved extremely well; of course all the colonel’s effects
and baggage became plunder, but they offered no insult to the ladies,
and left them in possession of the cabin. Colonel Packenham was
permitted to remain in the brig, but the captain, myself, and four of
the crew were removed into the privateer. I suppressed any mention of
my feelings on this untoward conclusion to our voyage; I could only
press poor Cherry’s hand—the tears were in her eyes; but her brave,
noble father cheered us by his example, and put faith and trust in
a merciful Providence who had hitherto protected us through so many
trials. The next morning a brig under French colours hove in sight.
Captain Eltherme, who commanded the Sanspareil privateer, said to me—
“‘That’s a wolf in a sheep’s skin; that’s an English brig, and too
strong for me.’
“How my heart beat with hope! The privateer hoisted signals, the brig
answered by hoisting English colours and firing a gun. The Frenchman
cursed and swore against luck, stamped upon deck, but ended by crowding
sail and abandoning the prize.
“‘Ah!’ said Captain Eltherme, looking into my face, and seeing, I
suppose, my delight at the colonel and his daughter’s escape, though
cut to the heart at my own situation; ‘don’t you think he’s going to
catch me; I have the legs of that confounded brig;’ and he had. The
privateer ran into the river of Bordeaux, whilst the brig returned, and
I dare say re-took the English craft.
“My prospects were now dismal in the extreme; I was taken as an
Englishman, and might remain years in prison. I might be recognised as
Julian Coulancourt, and then shot as a deserter from the Volentier.
“‘I tell you what, monsieur,’ said Captain Eltherme to me, ‘I’m not a
bad kind of man for a privateer’s man—eh, mon garçon?’
“‘Well, no,’ I replied; ‘I have found you very kind, and you behaved
generously to my friends.’
“‘Eh, bien, mon garçon, listen to me. You speak French too much like a
native to be an Englishman—besides, you have something of the Frenchman
about you.’ I did not consider the captain very complimentary, but I
let him go on. ‘If I send you ashore with the rest, you may remain in
prison for years. You speak English like a native.’
“‘I am a native,’ I exclaimed, rather vexed.
“‘Eh, bien! be it so,’ he returned. ‘Still, you can be useful to me
when I capture English vessels; stay with me.’
“‘But you do not suppose, Captain Eltherme,’ I exclaimed, ‘that I am
going to fight against my own countrymen?’
“‘No; mon Dieu! no,’ said he; ‘I do not want you to fight; parole
d’honneur; but take my advice, and do not go to prison. I may be taken
in my turn, then you will have your liberty; are you satisfied? You
shall share my cabin with my officers, and no one shall insult you.’
“I consented; we shook hands; and the Sanspareil, after landing poor
Captain Botten and his four men at the fort, put to sea. On board the
Sanspareil I remained fourteen months. She took several valuable prizes
and returned to Bordeaux, and as I gave my word not to attempt to
escape, I went ashore with him. I did him, and my countrymen taken in
the prizes, good service; I saved several from captivity; and, during
the month we remained in Bordeaux, I was received into the captain’s
family, and treated with the greatest kindness. I told him, after some
months, finding him a true-hearted, kind man, who I really was, and how
I was connected with one of the first families in France. We again put
to sea. You may be sure, though I really wished no misfortune to occur
to my worthy skipper, I still looked forward to a change of fortune.
The Sanspareil was a splendid sailing vessel, and nearly two hundred
and fifty tons burden, with a fine crew; but her career was drawing
to a close. We left Bordeaux for a cruise in the Channel; we were but
three days out when we encountered one of the most tremendous gales,
the captain said, he had ever witnessed. Every sail we attempted to
set was blown into ribbons, whilst a tremendous sea cleared our decks
of boats and every inch of bulwark. Our rigging snapped like whipcord,
and, finally, our main-mast went over the side, carrying with it three
of the crew; so we drove up Channel under our fore-mast without a rag
on it. The sea was awful to look at, and the weather so thick that we
expected each moment, ignorant of where we were, to run ashore. At
length, under a deluge of rain, the wind shifted to the nor’-west,
and at break of day the sky suddenly cleared, and to the captain’s
consternation we found ourselves within gun-shot of an English frigate,
under storm staysails. English colours were shown on our fore-mast,
but the Sanspareil was well known, and considered too great a pest to
be spared; and the ship, as we shot close by, lifted on a huge billow,
hailed through a speaking trumpet, ordering us to heave-to, or she
would sink us. Captain Eltherme, even in that tremendous sea, sought to
escape; and with great bravery—for heave-to he could not—lowered the
English flag, and hoisted the tricolor. He imagined in that boiling
sea the English frigate would never open fire, but she did; the iron
shower passed over without injury to us; but another, as the frigate
paid off, gave us our death wound, the shot going into our side as we
rolled over on a cross sea. Some accident evidently happened to the
frigate, for instead of following us she again bore up in the wind,
whilst we contrived to set a stay-sail on the fore-mast, and then bore
away for the French coast; but we soon found that the pumps would not
keep the vessel free, neither could the carpenters plug the shot-hole
in the breaking seas. Just as the sun was setting, and we were fast
settling in the water, we came up with the French frigate Prudente
lying to. Signals of distress were hoisted, and as we passed under
her stern, we stated we were sinking. With immense difficulty, and
by almost incredible exertions with hawsers and barrels, for no boat
could live, we were all taken out except nine, who went down with the
unfortunate Sanspareil. It was five days after this that the Prudente
was encountered by you, Captain O’Loughlin. Determined to be free or
perish, I rushed up the rigging, and, thank God! succeeded in reaching
this ship in safety. I have now brought, I fear, my tedious narrative,
to which you have listened with patience, to a close.”
“Well, by Jove, my dear young friend, you have had your share of trials
for one so young. Your narrative has greatly interested me, and now
that you have finished, I will give you some intelligence that will, I
know, gratify you. When the Vengeance foundered, on the 1st of June,
in the engagement with Lord Howe’s fleet, the English boats saved many
lives. Captain Renaudin was picked up by one boat, and his gallant
little son by another. Each thought the other lost, when, to their
intense joy, they again met in Portsmouth.”
“How rejoiced I am to hear this intelligence!” said Julian Arden, “for
a nobler or braver spirit never breathed than Captain Renaudin.”
“He has been done justice to, I assure you. Our papers of that time
gave the full particulars of the foundering of the Vengeance, and
of the father and son’s reunion. The next piece of news I have to
tell you is, that not very long ago I saw an article in the _Times_
newspaper, announcing the appointment of a Lieutenant-General Packenham
to the command of the garrison at Plymouth, mentioning the gallant
services of the general whilst in India. I have no doubt but that this
Lieutenant-General Packenham is the same Colonel Packenham you knew.”
“I dare say it is,” returned Julian, “and I trust time has not
obliterated from Miss Packenham’s mind all memory of my unfortunate
self.”
“Say fortunate, my dear young friend, for you have been providentially
saved during severe trials. Do not, like most lovers absent from their
charmers, give way to imaginary evils. ‘Sufficient to the day is the
evil thereof.’”