Lieutenant Thornton and Bill Saunders reached the sand hills without
meeting a single person, or, as they thought, without attracting the
notice of any one; but they were mistaken. As they crossed the sand
hills, every now and then the bare head of a lad, some fourteen years
of age, popped up from behind a hill, and regarded earnestly their
progress, following them carefully, and concealing himself in the
hollows and thick rushes, in the damp places. They had scarcely reached
the rocks, and climbed nearly to the summit, when the loud boom of a
heavy gun reverberated along the cliffs.
“Blow me!” exclaimed Bill, springing over some rocks, “there’s a
frigate’s gun; it was quite close under the cliffs.”
The next moment the top-gallant sails of a ship of war showed above the
head, but they could not make out the vessel, for, though her topsails
were plainly visible, she was full a mile off shore; and our hero and
Bill were in a hollow—they perceived a gig, with four oars, and a young
lad in the stern-sheets, pulling out from under the head.
“English! hurrah!” exclaimed Bill, with a cheer that pealed over the
sea, and reached the ears of those in the boat. The men rested on their
oars, and Bill waved a red flag, which he had brought in his pocket, in
the air. Instantly another flag was waved from the boat, and her head
turned for the beach.
“Hurrah!” again shouted Bill, and both he and Lieutenant Thornton made
for the beach; but as they came out from the hollow, and reached the
foot of a deep descent, a loud voice from above hailed, in French—
“Stand, or we fire.”
Our hero looked up, and beheld more than a dozen men in uniform, some
fifty yards above them, with muskets pointed directly at them.
“Spring over the cliff, Bill, or we’re dead men;” and, with a bound,
he threw himself over, instantly followed by Saunders. As they did so,
a volley of musketry rattled over the spot, and shattered portions of
the rock on which, a moment before, they had been standing.
A man sprang up amongst the gendarmes—it was Augustine Vadier—who,
shaking his clenched hand fiercely, exclaimed to the men, “Reload, or,
curse them, they will escape, and then follow them.”
The two Englishmen rolled over the ascent, with fragments of rock
and red earth clattering down with them, for ten or fifteen yards.
Unfortunately, a huge fragment of rock struck our hero on the head,
leaving him totally senseless at the foot of the descent. Bill picked
himself up, a little bewildered by the rapidity of their descent, but,
seeing his master senseless, he gave a shout of rage, and cast back a
look of vengeance on the gendarmes scrambling down the rocks; but the
men in the boat shouted loudly, “Quick, quick; to the beach.”
Lifting the senseless body of his master, Bill, with a desperate
energy, rushed toward the spot where the boat had run right in on the
beach. Another volley, the balls rattling all round him, expedited
Bill’s movements; but a powerful ally had now come to his aid—the
corvette had opened the scene of action; a flash, a wreath of smoke,
and then the iron messenger struck the cliff above, scattering the
splinters of the rocks into the very faces of the pursuing gendarmes.
Augustine Vadier was struck to the earth by a huge splinter of stone
in the right eye. The men threw themselves back and lay flat under
the rocks, for another gun pealed over the quiet sea, and the iron
storm—for this time it was grape—tore up the rocks within ten paces
of the Frenchmen, which made them spring to their legs and retreat
down the other side of the cliff, dragging the bleeding and furious
Augustine Vadier with them.
In the meantime Bill reached the boat, panting with exertion, and two
of the men, leaping into the water, ran to his assistance.
“Not dead, I trust,” cried the midshipman, gazing at the still
insensible body of our hero, as the men placed him in the bottom of the
boat, on a sail.
“Dead!” shrieked Bill, gasping for breath; “if he’s dead, blow my
brains out, and I’ll thank you! I don’t care a curse to live if
the lubbers have shot the bravest officer that ever breathed,” he
continued, the heat-drops pouring down his face, and his emotion
blinding him.
“No, thank God! he is not dead,” said the young midshipman, as the boat
pulled towards the corvette; “he is bleeding from a cut on the side
of the head; but who is he, and who are you, my man? I thought this
gentleman was Mr. Julian Arden.”
“Not dead? hurrah!” exclaimed Bill, tossing his cap into the air;
“give us your fin; blow me, but you’re a fine lad. Lord love ye! I’m a
true salt, though you do see me rigged in this hermaphrodite fashion.
That’s Lieutenant Thornton—bless him! he’s coming to—and I’m Bill
Saunders. Both of us belong to the old Diamond, and if that ere craft
is the Onyx, her commander will be as glad to see Lieutenant Thornton
as his own brother.”
“You are right, my fine fellow,” answered the young midshipman;
“Captain O’Loughlin would give his life at any time to serve this
gentleman. See, he is recovering fast,” watching Bill wash the blood
from the cut and bathe his master’s face; “he was only stunned.”
“It’s all right! Blow me, if I ain’t as glad as if a ship’s anchor was
taken off my breast,” said Bill, as the boat shot up alongside the Onyx
corvette—Commander O’Loughlin, Lieutenant Pole, and a number of the
crew, crowding and gazing over the bulwarks eagerly.
“Who have you there, Master Burdett?” inquired O’Loughlin, anxiously;
“not Mr. Julian Arden wounded, I trust.”
“No, sir,” said the midshipman, “it’s Lieutenant Thornton.”
“What! Sir Oscar de Bracy!” vehemently exclaimed the commander,
springing over the side into the boat, with an expression of deep
emotion in his manner and voice.
Our hero just then opened his eyes, and made an effort to get up.
“Thank God, he is only stunned,” said O’Loughlin, joyfully, as his
friend gazed into his face, with a smile, saying, in a low voice—
“Not the first knock on the head, Patrick, I have had; I am not much
hurt; where is Bill, Bill Saunders—you remember him?”
“Here, your honour, here, thank God! and your honour’s nothing the
worse. The lubbers thought to pepper us, but his honour, Captain
O’Loughlin, gave them a dose they didn’t like to stay to have repeated.”
“My fine fellow, I am glad to see you,” said the commander of the Onyx,
shaking Bill’s hand as warmly as he would have done that of a friend;
“I thought if ever one was heard of, the other would not be far off.”
With the assistance of Charles Pole, our hero was conveyed into the
cabin, and the surgeon proceeded to dress the wound in the head,
which he pronounced to be extremely trifling; the point of the rock
inflicting the wound had not caused the insensibility, but a blow
against a flat rock, at the bottom of the descent.
A glass or two of wine seemed to revive Lieutenant Thornton, and with
his return to consciousness, he began to experience great anxiety
respecting Mabel and her mother, lest they might be implicated by
this untoward event. Were they all discovered? or were the men that
surprised and fired upon him and Bill, only watching the movements
of those in the boat? but this latter idea was discarded, for by the
shouts and words of the gendarmes, they were evidently watching his own
and Bill’s movements, and not the corvette’s.
“In the name of fate, Sir Oscar,” said Commander O’Loughlin, as soon as
he perceived his friend sufficiently restored to talk, “in the name of
fate, how came you on this part of the coast? Do you know who I thought
you were?”
“Oh, yes, quite well, Patrick; you took me for Julian Arden,” returned
our hero; “he and I have, these last four or five days, been daily
watching you from Lyon Head.”
“Be the powers of war! but this is very extraordinary. I was lying-to
yesterday, after tracing a brig into some creek off this head, and this
morning I sent young Burdett in the gig to see if he could make out
the mouth of a creek or inlet of the sea I knew to be somewhere near
where I picked you up; and as I was passing my glass along the cliff,
I caught sight of a party of armed men, passing along the outward face
of the head; the sun was glancing on their muskets and accoutrements,
so I fired a gun to bring the boat back. I beheld the men disappear
round the point, and shortly after, as we stood on and opened the other
side, we saw the flash of their muskets, whilst pursuing you, as it
turned out; so I let fly a shot to freshen their way, for I thought the
fugitive might be Julian Arden. But how you came to be there with Bill
Saunders, amazes me; did you escape out of prison?”
“Thank God, I have not been in one since I left the Diamond; poor
Sidney Smith, and young Wright, were marched off to Paris. But, my dear
friend, I am in a dreadful state of anxiety; I must get ashore again
to-night.”
“Faith, that would be madness,” said Captain O’Loughlin; “the whole
coast will be roused, and a keen watch kept for miles along the beach.”
Our hero looked deeply distressed; after a moment he said—
“Do you know that that infernal privateer, the Vengeance, that caused
the captivity of Sir Sidney Smith, is actually at anchor within the
creek you mentioned just now?”
“The devil she is! then, by the powers of Moll Kelly! I’ll cut her out
or burn her.”
“She’ll never burn,” returned our hero, bitterly; “though I was deuced
near burning in her; but to make you up to the thing, give me another
glass of wine; I’m as well now as ever I was; and if we are to have the
task of cutting out this Vengeance, it must be done to-night, or not
at all, for if we delay, they will work her some miles up the creek.”
Lieutenant Thornton then gave his friend a brief but clear account of
what had befallen him from the period of Sir Sidney Smith’s attempting
to cut out the Vengeance from the port of Havre, to his arrival on
board the corvette.
“Well, by the immortal powers! you amaze me. Mabel in France, and
Madame Coulancourt and her son Julian restored to each other! How far
is the château from the coast?”
“Fully six miles.”
“Then we must have the privateer this very night; there’s a breeze
off the land; let me see, it will be high water about eleven o’clock;
there’s no moon, and it’s cloudy; but do you feel strong enough for the
exertion?”
“Strong enough!” repeated Lieutenant Thornton; “there’s nothing the
matter with me; it was only the suddenness and violence of the blow
that caused insensibility; but I rejoice to say that’s quite gone now.”
“How many men do you think there are on board the Vengeance?”
questioned O’Loughlin.
“I counted fourteen or fifteen the day before yesterday; there may be
three or four more. There is an armed brig in the creek.”
“What! an hermaphrodite brig, with a great rake in her main-mast, and a
red streak, and pierced for eight guns?”
“By Jove! I think so; she is an hermaphrodite, and I know her main-mast
rakes a good deal, for Julian remarked it to me; I was so intently
regarding the Vengeance, that I heeded the brig very little.”
“By St. Patrick! I must have that brig,” said the commander of the
corvette. “Four days ago I chased her some ten leagues to the eastward
of Lyon Point, and lost her just here in a fog of not an hour’s
duration, and a stark calm; and, be the powers of war! when the fog
cleared off, the deuce a bit of the brig was to be seen. She evidently
was towed into that inlet. What kind of a place is it?”
“A fine sheet of water inside; but there are several rocks to the right
of the entrance, covered at high water, and the entrance itself is a
blind one.”
“Yes, faith, I know it is; but we’ll find it with the boats. How’s your
appetite? We’ll have some supper, and then prepare for action.”
“My appetite is good enough; but I am intensely anxious about Mabel,
her mother, and Julian; I fear they will be suspected, seized, and sent
to Paris. I am sure that detestable Monsieur Gramont is at the bottom
of this affair. They must have thought to seize Julian and myself; and
yet, why let us go to Lyon Head for that purpose, when we could as
readily have been arrested at the château? It is puzzling.”
“It’s marvellously unfortunate,” said Captain O’Loughlin, with a vexed
air; “and for the life of me, I cannot see how this untoward event can
be remedied. You may depend on it the military will be on the alert
from Havre, to prevent any communication with the château; and you
yourself know the rules of the service would prevent me attempting
an attack upon the mansion; though if I thought we had any chance of
rescuing Madame Coulancourt and Mabel, and that the lives of my men
would not be uselessly sacrificed, I would cheerfully run the risk of
being broken and dismissed the service.”
“No, my kind friend, that must not be; your men must not incur such a
risk as that, without a chance of benefiting the service. We will cut
out this Vengeance, because she has been a pest to our commerce, and
will be again if she is not taken or destroyed; but I wish, though I
certainly do not owe him any good will myself, I wish the captain of
the privateer’s life to be spared, because he is the son-in-law of a
very good and kind old dame that did me great service.”
“Unless he kills himself in his desperation; for, by your account,
he is a ferocious fellow. I will give orders to avoid killing him
if possible. You will take the command of the launch, with a long
twelve-pound carronade in her, young Burdett, and sixteen men; I will
take the pinnace; and Pole, with an eight-pounder and fourteen men,
will take the other boat. I think this force will be sufficient, even
if they have taken alarm and increased their crew; but they may fancy,
from the secrecy and security of this inlet, that no attempt may be
thought of against them.”
“It’s very possible; but I think they may be alarmed, seeing the
corvette so close in with the land, and station men on the rocks on
each side the creek,” said our hero. “Do you know if there is any
vessel of war in Havre?”
“Not of any consequence,” said O’Loughlin; “except armed luggers, a
cutter, two chasse-mares, and, I believe, a large privateer, just ready
for sea. Our fleet is off Brest, and has swept the Channel.”
Lieutenant Thornton, before the hour arrived for setting out on the
expedition, felt not the slightest uneasiness from the contusion on his
head, but was anxious and disturbed lest his absence might materially
affect the future happiness of those most dear to him. He was also
greatly puzzled respecting the motives and means adopted for seizing
him and Julian; for those awaiting him at Lyon Head, no doubt thought
that Julian would, as usual, accompany him. He had observed a man, not
in uniform, stand forward prominently amongst the armed men, and, with
violent gesticulations, urge them to reload and pursue; who he was he
could have no idea; but it satisfied him that they had been stationed
there to intercept him. On ascending upon deck, he found the Onyx was
lying-to, with her fore-top sails aback, and her courses brailed.
There was a steady breeze from the land, the water quite smooth, and
the sky cloudy. It was now nearly nine o’clock, and the crew were busy
preparing for the expedition.
“It will not be dark till nearly ten o’clock,” said Lieutenant Pole,
joining our hero. “You had a lucky escape from those fellows, William.”
“By Jove! I had, Charles,” responded our hero. “Have you had any
letters or news from England since Julian Arden left you?”
“No; we have not spoken with any craft from England who left later than
ourselves. We were in company with the Niger, Captain Foote, two or
three days. He chased a large privateer lugger, who escaped by running
in under the Penmarks, and anchored; and he very gallantly cut her out
with his boats, after a very desperate resistance; but she had no news,
except a rumour of peace.”
“I do not believe there is the slightest chance of it,” said our hero,
thoughtfully; for he was thinking of Mabel. “Did you hear where the
Diamond was?”
“I think I heard one of the officers of the Niger say she returned to
Plymouth after the unfortunate attempt upon the Vengeance. What do you
propose doing, William?”
“I am so put out by this unfortunate affair that I cannot exactly say.
I had hoped to effect the escape of Madame Coulancourt and her family
from France; but I fear that is now impossible. They may accuse her
of intending to leave the country—imprison her, and confiscate her
property. In fact, there is no knowing what train of misfortunes may
ensue. I have a great mind, after this cutting-out business, to land
and endeavour to discover how they are situated.”
“I fear you would rashly risk your life, William, and do no good.
What could you do single-handed? Besides, now you are free, you will
be expected either to retire from the service, or return and report
yourself.”
“I will not retire during a time of war, Charles, you may depend. If I
could only ascertain any tidings of those in the château, I should be
lighter in heart.”
“Who knows what may occur to-night?” said Lieutenant Pole; “something
may turn up—it’s impossible to foresee what may happen.”
“True, there may be no alarm at the château, except for my, perhaps to
them unaccountable, disappearance.”
“May I ask you, William, why you do not assume the name of De Bracy,
which every one that knows you is aware you are entitled to?”
“Because, Charles, I cannot see that I am as yet entitled, by law, to
claim that name. For the present I prefer retaining that of my kind
old benefactor. I can fight, or die, or achieve fame under that name
as well as any other. I had hoped to have embraced a dear parent, and
to have been acknowledged by him; but it was the will of Providence to
take his life. I have felt this much, but dare not murmur; so now let
us to the work on hand—we must have that Vengeance.”
A little after ten o’clock, the Onyx filled her topsails, and stood
in for the cliff headland of Lyon Point. The boats were all ready and
the men selected, and eager to be led by Lieutenant Thornton, whose
gallantry and general good fortune, until the last mishap, was pretty
well known to them.
There was a slight breeze from the land, which was in their favour.
“I have changed our mode of attack,” said Captain O’Loughlin to our
hero, as they walked the quarter-deck, gazing out at the indistinct
line of coast, half hid by the haze; “though the change has greatly
annoyed Pole. I have determined upon his taking the command of the Onyx
during our absence. My second lieutenant will take his place. Between
you and me, Mr. Joyce is a brave fellow, but somewhat rash. I would
rather not leave the ship under his care in our absence; on Pole I can
depend in every way: he is cool, calculating, and skilful.”
“I think you are quite right; but I fancy if you stayed on board
yourself, and let Charles take the pinnace, you would do better still.”
“Be the powers of war! catch me at that,” said O’Loughlin, laughing;
“you are thinking of Sir Sidney, and that there’s a chance of two
commanders failing in cutting out this redoubtable Vengeance.”
“I hope not, Patrick; for, by Jove! that would be paying dearly for the
chance of a privateer. It is not that. It strikes me that commanders
should not, except in extreme cases, lead in these cutting-out affairs.”
“Oh, bother! what’s a commander? Many a worthy lieutenant is worth a
dozen of some of them. If a commander does get knocked on the head, it
makes way for another—it’s all in the way of business; besides, I like
a thing of the kind. What do you think of the sailing qualities of the
corvette?”
“She moves fast and easily through the water,” said Lieutenant
Thornton; “she’s a handsome craft, and, I should say, makes good
weather of it from her beam. She’s a splendid sea boat, and as stiff as
a church steeple; it must be a hard gale that will make her want two
reefs in her topsail.”
“Mr. Thomson,” hailed the commander, “put a man in the chains, and take
a cast of the lead; we are closer in now than we were this morning.”
“Ay, ay, sir,” said the mate; and the clear, steady voice of the
leads-man was heard giving out the soundings, and shortly after the
Onyx was hove up in the wind, and an anchor dropped in about nine
fathoms of water, about three-quarters of a mile from the shore, and a
mile to the eastward of Lyon Head.
The boats were all in the water, the crews served each with a cutlass
and brace of pistols. The launch was a fine boat; she carried a long
twelve-pounder, loaded with grape, in her bows, and was steered by
Master Burdett, the midshipman. Bill Saunders was in his glory; he was
to have, by special permission, the charge of the gun.
In a few minutes, all being ready, the men in their places, the
row-locks muffled, the word to give way given, off they started, in
high spirits. Captain O’Loughlin leading in the pinnace, in which he
had a lieutenant of marines and eight men, besides twelve picked men of
his own crew. He left the Vengeance to our hero and the two boats, his
intention being to carry out the brig.
There was scarcely a ripple against the rocks, the water was so smooth.
They soon came up with the mouth of the creek, which, by keeping
close alongside, they easily found, though from some distance off
it would be scarcely visible. The entrance was not unlike that into
Dartmouth, but infinitely narrower. The tide was nearly at full, so
the boats glided noiselessly up the narrow part—the cliffs being very
high and precipitous on both sides. The breeze came steadily down the
creek. Just as they opened the wide part, they became aware of a large
square-rigged craft, coming down dead before the wind, under top sails
and top-gallant sails.
“The brig,” said Lieutenant Thornton to the midshipman. The pinnace was
about sixty yards ahead. Just as he uttered the words, a bright line
of fire flashed from one side of the creek, and the rattle of musketry
broke upon the stillness of the night.
“Discovered, by Jupiter!” said our hero, standing up; “give way, my
lads. Any one hit? Keep steady, men.”
“No one hit, sir; all right,” shouted Bill, from the bow. “Look, sir,
the brig is running ashore!”
Our hero perceived that Captain O’Loughlin pulled up alongside, and,
though received with a smart fire of musketry and pistols, soon gained
her deck; and then the loud cheer of his men was echoed from the steep
cliffs.
“All right, my men,” said our hero; “give way, and now for the
Vengeance;” and, through a fierce fire of musketry from the shore, the
launch flew through the still waters of the creek.
They were within seventy yards of the Vengeance when she opened fire
from an eight-pounder, crammed to the muzzle with grape. The water
round the launch was lashed into foam, and the spray flew over the men;
but, as often happens, strange to say, in attacks of the same kind, not
a man was hit.
“Now, Bill, give them an answer,” said our hero; and then followed
the loud boom of the launch’s twelve-pounder, as it poured its deadly
contents over the decks of the Vengeance, and the next instant they
were alongside, and Lieutenant Thornton, cutlass in hand, sprang upon
her deck, followed by his brave crew; though a desperate volley of
musketry was fired full in their faces, killing one man and wounding
three.
“Force them overboard, my lads,” shouted our hero, as he drove the
Frenchmen before him, and saved young Burdett, as he scrambled over
the bulwarks, from being annihilated by the butt end of a musket.
There were full thirty men on board the Vengeance, and Captain Pierre
Gaudet, foaming at the mouth, and furious with passion, was urging
them to a furious resistance. Just then Lieutenant Joyce boarded the
Vengeance on her larboard quarter, taking the enraged Frenchman in
the rear. Lieutenant Thornton, wishing to spare Pierre Gaudet’s life,
burst through all opposition, and, singling him out, disarmed him, and
catching him by the collar, dragged him to the side.
“Curse you! I know you,” shouted Pierre Gaudet, striving to draw out a
knife. “Set her on fire, drag out the plugs!” he roared amid the din,
but Lieutenant Thornton tumbled him over the bulwarks. Desperately he
clung to anything he could catch hold of.
“I wish to save your life, villain!” exclaimed our hero, “though you do
not deserve any clemency;” and, dragging Gaudet from his last hold, he
threw him into the launch, and called to the men to surrender. There
were five dead upon the deck, and several wounded. Bill was driving all
before him with a handspike, having broken his cutlass. Several of the
crew of the privateer threw themselves overboard, others surrendered,
but a few desperate hands rushed below and fired the fore-cabin, which
was, however, extinguished instantly, and preparations were then made
for casting her loose, when it was discovered that she was chained to
the shore, and the massive chain on board was riveted to a huge bolt.
“Now, Mr. Joyce, be ready,” said our hero, “to set sail the moment I
hail you; I will go ashore and cast off this chain,” and he leaped into
the launch, followed by Bill and some half dozen of the men. Just then
Captain O’Loughlin rowed up alongside, having previously sent the brig
out with half-a-dozen hands in her.
Whilst Lieutenant Thornton was pulling towards the shore, Pierre Gaudet
threw himself into the water, swam to the shore, or on board one of the
fishing luggers near.
As the party in the launch pulled towards the beach they were assailed
by a discharge of musketry from a large number of men drawn up on the
shore.
“Now, Bill, give them a dose, and disperse them.”
“Ay, ay, sir, I’ll physic them,” and bang went the twelve-pounder,
loaded with grape, and well-directed, at the body of men drawn up under
the rocks, and dispersing them in double quick time, leaving three of
their number dead upon the beach.
“Load again, and keep them from closing,” said our hero, springing
ashore with his men, and seeking to find what the chain was fastened to.
The men who had fled rallied as soon as they had gained the shelter of
the rocks, and again opened fire, the balls knocking up the sand all
round the launch; but Bill was soon ready with another dose of grape,
and dislodged them from their position.
Lieutenant Thornton, to his dismay, found the chain was riveted to
an anchor, stuck in the sands, over a ton weight. Confounded at this
contretemps, he was hesitating what to do, when he was hailed from the
Vengeance, telling him they had cut away the deck with axes, and freed
the ring-bolt to which the chain was fast, the enemy having, probably,
in their hurry, hastily riveted the chain to a bolt, instead of taking
a turn round the main-mast, and then riveting it. The Frenchmen, still
from a distance, kept up a dropping fire upon our hero and his party;
but, wading on board the launch, with only two men slightly wounded,
they all returned on board the Vengeance.