After the departure of the Onyx corvette our hero remained in the
Vengeance, lying to, very busy setting her completely in order.
The men were delighted with the privateer, the accommodation being
so vastly superior to a vessel of war. The weather was remarkably
beautiful, with smooth water and light breezes. As Lieutenant Thornton
and his midshipman, Master Burdett, sat at dinner, the latter said—
“Would not you like, sir, to try the merits of this fine craft? I’m
sure she would beat anything afloat.”
“I dare say she would, Master Burdett; but, having a certain object in
view, I must not get out of the direct line of the port of Havre. I
intend standing in, towards evening. We are short-handed and lightly
armed; and, though all the guns are below, we could not work more than
we have on deck. Besides, I do not think, under present circumstances,
I should be justified in seeking an action with an enemy; if forced
into one it’s another thing.”
“Sail to the westward, sir,” cried Bill Saunders, down the cabin
skylight; “large ship, seemingly.”
Lieutenant Thornton hastened upon deck, joyfully followed by Master
Burdett, who rejoiced in the hope of either a chase, a fight, or even
being chased. Midshipmen are insatiable, and very mercurial kind of
animals. On gaining the deck Lieutenant Thornton took his glass and
regarded the stranger; her top-gallant sails only could be seen, and
they were braced sharp on a wind.
“That is a vessel of war, no doubt,” he coolly observed, “and by the
cut of her top-gallant sails I should say French, standing in for
Havre. We may readily pass for a French privateer; but if the captain
hears, when he gets into Havre, about the cutting out of the Vengeance,
he will come out again and look for us, and drive us off the coast,
which would defeat my project. Cast off the fore-sheet, and let us get
an offing till the stranger gets into port, if he is so bound.”
“Ay, ay, sir!” said Bill, who acted as chief mate, “blow me if it ain’t
a pity we bean’t in ship-shape—more guns and more men—we would soon
stop that ere chap.”
The Vengeance was now under weigh, with her full complement of sail,
for the first time since captured; and the men looked over the side
with many a remark upon the smooth and rapid way she went through the
water.
“She’s a clipper, Master Burdett,” said Lieutenant Thornton. “This is
a light breeze, comparatively speaking; just take the small glass, and
call one of the men aft, and see what we are making.”
In a few minutes the log-line was overboard, Bill slacking the line and
Master Burdett holding the glass.
“Stop,” sang out Bill, and, looking at the marks, declared she was
going nine knots. This was a surprising speed for the wind then
blowing. “There be very few crafts, sir,” continued Bill, “that could
hold their own with this here Vengeance; she’d laugh at a frigate in a
light breeze.”
“She always did Bill, even before her spars and sails were increased.
You will see in half an hour we shall sink the stranger’s top-gallant
sails.”
Finding such to be the case, the Vengeance was again hove to, whilst
the crew still watched the course of the stranger. Presently they could
see her topsails, and then our hero decidedly declared her to be a
French frigate. Their fore and main lug were then lowered, and under
her mizen and jib she kept pretty much in the same place, and as the
sun went down they lost sight of the French ship, which evidently stood
in for the port of Havre, without noticing them.
Sail was then made, and they hauled in for the land. Lieutenant
Thornton was in an extremely anxious state of mind; he was far from
feeling sure that Jean Plessis would be able to carry out his plans. If
he failed, it was terrible to think how many years might pass before he
should be again blessed with the sight of his beloved Mabel. It was one
consolation to him, however, to know that in the then state of France
there was no fear of either cruel persecution or death. The government
were anxious to wipe away that frightful stain that no time will ever
obliterate from the pages of French history.
Still, their youth might pass away, and their day-dreams of love and
felicity fade, like almost everything else in this transitory and
shifting globe. But young hope struggled in his breast, though some
writer, we forget his name, declares, “We believe at once in evil, and
never believe in good; but upon reflection this is sad. But we live in
hope, and we never cease to indulge in hope to the last.”
As they stretched in with the land to the westward of Havre, about the
middle of the first watch, the man on the look-out sung out—
“Sail ahead on the starboard bow!”
Lieutenant Thornton, who was pacing the deck chatting to the young
midshipman, went forward, and looking over the starboard bulwarks,
perceived two vessels standing towards them; they were about a league
off. One was a schooner, the other a large chasse-mare.
They were making for Havre, and must have seen the Vengeance; but, as
our hero imagined, mistook her for a French vessel, for no British
cruisers or privateers were lugger rigged. The chasse-mare was nearly
as large in tonnage as the Vengeance, though not near so long. In ten
minutes, as they were then steering, they would be alongside each other.
“I’m blessed if that schooner ain’t an English one,” said Bill Saunders
to a messmate, as they stood regarding the two vessels.
Lieutenant Thornton thought so too, and he also thought the chasse-mare
was a privateer. It was a clear, fine night, with a light wind at
east and by south. To let the two vessels run into Havre would betray
the Vengeance being on the coast, so he made up his mind to run the
chasse-mare on board and take her, if possible, by surprise. When the
crew of the Vengeance were apprised of his intention, they joyfully
ran to arm and prepare for the struggle, not bestowing a thought upon
the disparity of force in men. As the chasse-mare came on, followed at
half a mile distance by the schooner, they could see at all events that
there were double their own number on board.
Lieutenant Thornton prepared to hail, desiring young Burdett to stand
by the man at the helm, adding, “When I give the signal, run her on
board.” Standing in the bows of the Vengeance, our hero with a speaking
trumpet hailed the Frenchman, who as well as the lugger had no colours
flying. Demanding the name of the vessel, a man in the bows replied—
“The Belle Poule, of Havre, Captain François Bouvet, with a prize. Are
you the Vengeance, Captain Pierre Gaudet?”
Lieutenant Thornton waved his hat. The next moment the helm was put
down, and the lugger, shooting up rapidly in the wind’s eye, came right
across the quarter of the Belle Poule, and dropped alongside. A cheer
that utterly astounded the French crew pealed over the deep, and as
the two vessels became locked together by grappling irons thrown from
the Vengeance into the Belle Poule, Lieutenant Thornton, followed
by his entire crew, leaped on board the enemy, cutlass and pistol in
hand. Taken completely by surprise, and quite unprepared, the crew
of the Belle Poule, after a few ill-aimed shots at the boarders,
threw down their arms and ran below, excepting the captain and two of
his officers; the former was disarmed, though in a furious passion,
by Lieutenant Thornton. The lieutenant and first mate, seeing the
captain disarmed, threw down their cutlasses and surrendered. Bill
Saunders’ first object was to fasten the French crew down below, for
they amounted in number to forty-eight, without reckoning the captain,
lieutenant, and mate. A violent scuffle below, however, attracted
Bill’s attention, and some words reaching his ear, he called Master
Burdett, and then by inquiry discovered that there were fourteen
English prisoners below. Lieutenant Thornton immediately ordered the
men up, and as the French crew of the Belle Poule had no idea of the
small number of their assailants, they obeyed the order, and, one by
one, up came fourteen stout, able-bodied seamen, giving three hearty
cheers as they gained the deck.
“The schooner has tacked, sir, and is standing off to sea,” said Bill
Saunders.
“Stand by, then, to separate the vessels,” returned Lieutenant
Thornton. “Now, my lads,” he continued, turning to the released
prisoners, “you must assist; we are, as you see, short-handed.”
“Ay, ay, sir; with all our hearts,” said a short, broad, hard-featured
man, who said he was first mate of the schooner. “This was a devil of
a surprise, sir, and a bold venture,” he added as he looked at the few
men belonging to the Vengeance, actively engaged separating the vessels.
“What is the name of your schooner, my man?” demanded Lieutenant
Thornton.
“The Fox privateer, sir; eight guns and sixty men, from Poole—Captain
George Goodall.”
“How is that?” said our hero, surprised. “Did you strike to this craft?”
“No, sir,” said the mate, “that we did not; we’d seed him to the devil
first. We struck to the Virginie frigate after beating this here chap,
and a small lugger that came up with us off Ushant; but the Virginie
coming up, threatened to sink us if we did not strike, so in course we
did. And so the captain of the frigate, who was watching the motions
of our ships off Brest and Isle Dieu, took our captain and first
lieutenant and nineteen of the men on board the Virginie, and then
this here chap put us fourteen down below, and sent a prize crew into
the schooner with orders to take us into Havre, where the frigate was
bound to. The schooner is a mortal fast boat, sir; if you don’t look
out you’ll never catch her.”
“Do not be alarmed about that, mate,” replied our hero. “We shall have
her before two hours are out. Now I must divide our prisoners, for I
cannot spare more than half-a-dozen men to take charge of this craft. I
will leave five or six of your own men to keep her in our wake, whilst
I chase the schooner.”
“Ay, ay, sir,” returned the mate; “that we will do, and willingly lend
a hand in any way you think fit.”
Having divided the prisoners and separated the vessels, the Vengeance
made all sail after the captured Fox. There was a fine smooth-water
breeze, and the schooner, with every sail drawing, was making her way
for the land, seeking to enter a deep bay, on whose western point
Lieutenant Thornton knew there was a battery of four heavy guns. The
Vengeance sailed under her enormous lugs and topsails like a witch,
and yet so evenly and smoothly, that she created but little foam under
her bows. Fast as the schooner certainly sailed, the Vengeance went
two feet for her one. The crew of the Fox were in admiration of her
speed, for just as the schooner came within reach of the battery,
the Vengeance was close up with her. Nevertheless, the prize crew in
the Fox opened fire upon them from her six-pounders; but Lieutenant
Thornton, who could have done her considerable damage long before, did
not return her fire, not wishing to injure the schooner; therefore,
he at once ran alongside, and his men, being prepared, with a loud
cheer, leaped down upon her deck, cutlass in hand. There were six or
seven-and-twenty fierce privateer’s men on board the Fox, who received
them with a volley from firearms; but our hero, followed closely by
Bill Saunders, dashed in amongst the enraged enemy, driving them aft
with a spirit and energy that staggered them. In the midst of the
contest the English prisoners broke loose from below to the number
of twenty, and with a loud cheer seized every available weapon, and
attacked the enemy with a vigour and resolution that soon settled
the affair. And the captain, having lost two of his crew and a dozen
wounded, surrendered, just as the fort on the point opened fire; her
first shot knocked the jib-boom of the schooner to atoms. By this
time daylight dawned, and our hero at once ordered the two vessels to
make sail from the shore. As the schooner hove round, a second shot
knocked away her figure-head and part of her stern; but, a fresh wind
blowing, she soon got out of range of the battery. Thornton had one or
two slight cuts himself, and several of his men also; but none were
seriously hurt. Our hero had a consultation with the mate of the Fox
privateer, who, marvellously elated at the recapture of the schooner,
was perfectly willing to do whatever Lieutenant Thornton considered
most expedient.
Our hero wished him to run the two vessels across Channel to Poole,
from whence the Fox hailed, and surrender her to her owners, leaving
the settlement of recapture to be arranged when he arrived in England.
As to the prisoners, being more in number than the united crews, our
hero had them all put into the boats of the Belle Poule, and, standing
to the eastward of the battery, permitted them to pull for the shore—a
proceeding that afterwards proved exceedingly injurious to our hero.
Making but short delay, the two crafts bore away across Channel,
whilst the Vengeance worked back to the mouth of the Seine. During
the day Lieutenant Thornton got up two more guns from the hold of
the Vengeance, and mounted them, and repaired the damage done to the
rigging and sails.