Mr. Campbell was a person of many amiable qualities. He was a religious,
good man, very fond of his wife, to whose opinions he yielded in
preference to his own, and very partial to his children, to whom he was
inclined to be over indulgent. He was not a person of much energy of
character, but he was sensible and well-informed. His goodness of heart
rendered him liable to be imposed upon, for he never suspected any
deceit, notwithstanding that he was continually deceived. His character
was therefore that of a simple, good, honest man.
Mrs. Campbell was well matched with him as a wife, as she had all that
energy and decision of character which was sometimes wanting in her
husband. Still there was nothing masculine in her manners and
appearance; on the contrary, she was delicate in her form, and very soft
in her manners. She had great firmness and self-possession, and had
brought up all her children admirably. Obedience to their parents was
the principle instilled into them after their duty to God; for she knew
too well that a disobedient child can never prosper. If ever there was a
woman fitted to meet the difficulty and danger which threatened them, it
was Mrs. Campbell, for she had courage and presence of mind, joined to
activity and cleverness.
Henry, the eldest son, was now nearly twenty years of age. He possessed
much of the character of his father, was without vice, but rather
inclined to inaction than otherwise. Much was to be ascribed to his
education and college life, and more to his natural disposition.
Alfred, the sailor, was, on the contrary, full of energy and active in
every thing, patient and laborious, if required, and never taking any
thing in hand without finishing it, if possible. He was rough, but not
rude, both in his speech and his manners, very kind-hearted, at the same
time very confident in himself and afraid of nothing.
Mary Percival was a very amiable, reflective girl, quiet without being
sad, not often indulging in conversation, except when alone with her
sister Emma. She was devotedly attached to her uncle and aunt, and was
capable of more than she had any idea of herself, for she was of a
modest disposition, and thought humbly of herself. Her disposition was
sweet, and was portrayed in her countenance. She was now seventeen years
old, and very much admired.
Her sister Emma, who was but fifteen, was of a very different
disposition, naturally gay, and inclined to find amusement in every
thing--cheerful as the lark, and singing from morning to night. Her
disposition, owing to Mrs. Campbell's care and attention, was equally
amiable as her sister's, and her high spirits seldom betrayed her into
indiscretion. She was the life of the family when Alfred was away: he
only was her equal in high spirits.
Percival, the third boy, was now twelve years old; he was a quiet,
clever lad, very obedient and very attentive to what was told him, very
fond of obtaining information, being naturally very inquisitive.
John, the fourth boy, was ten years old--a sturdy, John Bull sort of a
boy, not very fond of learning, but a well-disposed boy in most things.
He preferred any thing to his book; at the same time, he was obedient,
and tried to keep up his attention as well as he could, which was all
that could be expected from a boy of his age. He was very slow in every
thing, very quiet, and seldom spoke unless first spoken to. He was not
silly, although many people would have thought him so, but he certainly
was a very strange boy, and it was difficult to say what he would turn
out.
I have now described the family as they appeared at the time that they
embarked on board of the London Merchant; and have only to add, that on
the third day after their embarkation, they made sail with a fair wind,
and ran down the Irish Channel.
The London Merchant sailed for Cork, where the North American convoy
were to assemble. At the time we speak of, the war had recommenced
between this country and the French, who were suffering all the horrors
of the Revolution. On their arrival at Cork, our party recovered a
little from the sea-sickness to which all are subject on their first
embarkation. They found themselves at anchor with more than a hundred
merchant vessels, among which were to be perceived the lofty masts and
spars of a large fifty-gun ship, and two small frigates, which were
appointed to convoy them to their destination.
The rest of the party, still suffering, soon went down below again, but
Alfred remained on deck leaning against the bulwarks of the vessel, his
eyes and his thoughts intently fixed upon the streaming pennants of the
men-of-war, and a tear rolled down his cheek, as he was reminded that he
no longer could follow up his favorite profession. The sacrifice he had
made to his family was indeed great. He had talked lightly of it before
them, not wishing them to believe it was so. He had not told his father
that he had passed his examination for lieutenant before he had been
paid off at Portsmouth; and that his captain, who was very partial to
him, had promised that he should soon be advanced in the service. He had
not told them that all his wishes, all his daily hopes, the most anxious
desire of his existence, which was to become a post-captain, and in
command of a fine frigate, were blighted by this sacrifice he had made
for them and their comfort. He had concealed all this, and assumed a
mirth which he did not feel; but now that he was alone, and the pennant
was once more presented to his view, his regrets could not be
controlled. He sighed deeply, and turning away with his arms folded,
said to himself--"I have done my duty. It is hard, after having served
so long, and now just arrived at the time in which I have reason to
expect my reward--to rise in the service--distinguish myself by my zeal,
and obtain a reputation, which, if it pleased God, I would have
done--very hard, to have to leave it now, and to be hid in the woods,
with an ax in my hand; but how could I leave my father, my mother, and
my brothers and sisters, to encounter so much difficulty and privation
by themselves, when I have a strong arm to help them! No! no!--I have
done my duty to those who ever did their duty to me, and I trust that my
own conscience will prove my reward, and check that repining which we
are too apt to feel when it pleases Heaven to blight what appears to be
our fairest prospects ... I say, my good fellow," said Alfred, after a
while, to a man in a boat, "what is the name of that fifty-gun ship?"
"I don't know which ship has fifty guns, or which has a hundred,"
replied the Irishman; "but if you mean the biggest of the three, she is
called the Portsmouth."
"The Portsmouth! the very ship Captain Lumley was appointed to," cried
Alfred. "I must go on board."
Alfred ran down to the cabin, and requested the captain of the
transport, whose name was Wilson, to allow him the small boat to go on
board the man-of-war. His request was granted, and Alfred was soon up
the side of the Portsmouth. There were some of his old messmates on the
quarter-deck, who welcomed him heartily, for he was a great favorite.
Shortly afterward, he sent down a message by the steward, requesting
that Captain Lumley would see him, and was immediately afterward ordered
to go into the cabin.
"Well, Mr. Campbell," said Captain Lumley, "so you have joined us at
last; better late than never. You're but just in time. I thought you
would soon get over that foolish whim of yours, which you mentioned in
your letter to me, of leaving the service, just after you had passed,
and had such good chance of promotion. What could have put it in your
head?"
"Nothing, sir," replied Alfred, "but my duty to my parents. It is a most
painful step for me to take, but I leave you to judge whether I can do
otherwise."
Alfred then detailed to Captain Lumley all that had occurred, the
resolution which his father and mother had taken, and their being then
on board the timber-ship, and about to proceed to their new destination.
Captain Lumley heard Alfred's story without interruption, and then,
after a pause, said, "I think you are right, my boy, and it does you
honor. Where you are going to, I have no doubt but your courage and your
protection will be most important. Yet it is a pity you should be lost
to the service."
"I feel most sincerely, sir, I assure you, but----"
"But you sacrifice yourself; I know that. I admire the resolution of
your father and mother. Few could have the courage to have taken such a
step--few women, especially, I shall call upon them, and pay my
respects. In half an hour I shall be ready, and you shall accompany me,
and introduce me. In the meantime you can go and see your old
messmates."
Alfred left the cabin, much flattered by the kindness of Captain Lumley,
and went down to his former messmates, with whom he remained until the
boatswain piped away the crew of the captain's barge. He then went on
deck, and as soon as the captain came up, he went into the boat. The
captain followed, and they were soon on board of the London Merchant.
Alfred introduced Captain Lumley to his father and mother; and in the
course of half an hour, being mutually pleased with each other, an
intimacy was formed, when Captain Lumley observed, "I presume that, much
as you may require your son's assistance on your arrival at Canada, you
can dispense with his presence on board of this vessel. My reason for
making this observation is that no chance should ever be thrown away.
One of my lieutenants wishes to leave the ship on family concerns. He
has applied to me, and I have considered it my duty to refuse him, now
that we are on the point of sailing, and I am unable to procure another.
But for your son's sake, I will now permit him to go, and will, if you
will allow him to come on board of the Portsmouth, give Alfred an acting
lieutenant's order. Should any thing occur on the passage out, and it is
not at all impossible, it will insure his promotion; even if nothing
occurs, I will have his acting order confirmed. At Quebec, he shall, of
course, leave the ship, and go with you. I don't pretend to detain him
from his duty; but you will observe, that if he does obtain his rank, he
will also obtain his half-pay, which, if he remains in Canada with you,
will be a great assistance; and if things should turn out so well, that
you can, after a year or two, do without him, and allow him to return to
the service, he will then have already gained the most important step,
and will, I have no doubt, soon rise to the command of a ship. I will
give you till to-morrow to decide. Alfred can come on board in the
morning, and let me know."
"I think I may say, Captain Lumley," replied Mrs. Campbell, "that my
husband could have but one reason in hesitating a moment, and that is,
to ascertain whether I should like to part with my son during our
passage out. I should, indeed, be a very weak woman, if I did not make
such a trifling sacrifice for his benefit, and, at the time, feel most
grateful to you for your kind intentions toward him. I rather think that
Mr. Campbell will not find it necessary to have till to-morrow morning
to consider the proposal; but I leave him to answer for himself."
"I can assure you, Captain Lumley, that Mrs. Campbell has only expressed
my own feelings, and, as far as we are concerned, your offer is most
gratefully accepted."
"Then, Alfred," replied Captain Lumley, "has only to make his appearance
on board of the Portsmouth to-morrow morning, and he will find his
acting order ready for him. We sail, I believe, the day after, if the
weather is at all favorable; so, if I have not another opportunity to
pay my respects to you, you must allow me to say farewell now. I shall
keep my eye upon your vessel during the passage; at all events, Alfred
will, I'm very sure."
Captain Lumley shook hands with Mr. and Mrs. Campbell, bowed to the rest
of the cabin party, and quitted the ship. As he went over the side, he
observed to Alfred, "I perceive you have some attractions in your party.
It is quite melancholy to think that those pretty cousins of yours
should be buried in the woods of Canada. To-morrow, at nine o'clock,
then, I shall expect you.--Adieu!"
Although the idea of Alfred leaving them during the passage out was not
pleasant, Mr. and Mrs. Campbell were most happy at the chance which had
offered itself for their son's advantage, and seemed in good spirits
when he took leave of them on the following morning.
"Captain Wilson, you sail so well, that I hope you will keep close to us
all the passage out," observed Alfred, as he was taking leave.
"Except you happen to come to action with an enemy, and then I shall
haul off to a respectful distance, Mr. Alfred," replied Captain Wilson
laughing.
"That, of course. Cannon-balls were never invented for ladies, although
they have no objection to balls,--have they Emma? Well, good-by once
more. You can often see me with the spy-glass if you feel inclined.
Recollect that."
Alfred shoved off in the boat, and was soon on board of the Portsmouth.
The following day they sailed with a fair wind and moderate weather; the
convoy now increased to 120 vessels.
We must leave Mr. and Mrs. Campbell and family on board the London
Merchant, and follow Alfred in the Portsmouth, during the passage to
Quebec.
For several days the weather was moderate, although the wind was not
always fair, and the convoy was kept together, and in good order. The
London Merchant was never far away from the Portsmouth, and Alfred
employed a large portion of his time, when he was not keeping his watch,
in keeping his spy-glass upon the vessel, and watching the motions of
his cousins and the rest of the family. On board of the London Merchant
they were similarly occupied, and very often a handkerchief was waved by
way of salute and recognition. At last they arrived off the banks of
Newfoundland, and were shrouded in a heavy fog, the men-of-war
constantly firing guns, to inform the merchant-ships in what direction
they were to steer, and the merchant-vessels of the convoy ringing their
bells, to warn each other, that they might not be run foul of.
The fog lasted two days, and was still continuing when the party on
board the London Merchant, just as they were sitting down to dinner in
the cabin, heard a noise and bustle on deck. Captain Wilson ran hastily
up and found that his vessel had been boarded by a French boat's crew,
who had beaten down the men and taken possession. As there was no help,
all he could do was to go down to the cabin, and inform his passengers
that they were prisoners. The shock of this intelligence was very great,
as may be supposed, but still there was no useless lamentation or
weeping. One thing is certain, that this news quite spoiled their
appetite for their dinner, which, however, was soon dispatched by the
French officer and his men, after the boat had left, and the vessel's
head had been put in an opposite direction.
Captain Wilson, who had returned on deck, came down in about a quarter
of an hour, and informed the party, who were silently brooding over this
sudden change in their prospects, that the wind was very light, and that
he thought the fog was clearing off a little, and that if it did so
before it was dark, he was in great hopes that they should be
recaptured. This intelligence appeared to revive the hopes of Mr. and
Mrs. Campbell, and they were still more encouraged when they heard the
sounds of guns at no very great distance. In a few minutes afterward the
cannonading became very furious, and the Frenchmen who were on board
began to show strong signs of uneasiness.
The fact was, that a French squadron, of one sixty-gun ship and two
corvettes, had been on the look-out for the convoy, and had come in
among them during the fog. They had captured and taken possession of
several vessels before they were discovered, but the sixty-gun ship at
last ran very near to the Portsmouth, and Alfred, who had the watch, and
was on a sharp look-out, soon perceived through the looming fog, that
she was not one of the convoy. He ran down to acquaint the captain, and
the men were immediately ordered to their quarters, without beating the
drum, or making any noise that might let the enemy know they were so
near. The yards were then braced in, to check the way of the Portsmouth,
so that the strange vessel might come up with her. Silence was kept fore
and aft, not a whisper was to be heard; and as the Frenchmen neared
them, they perceived a boat putting off from her to board another vessel
close to them, and also heard the orders given to the men in the French
language. This was sufficient for Captain Lumley: he put the helm down,
and poured a raking broadside into the enemy, who was by no means
prepared for such a sudden salute, although her guns were cast loose,
ready for action, in case of accident. The answer to the broadside was a
cry of "_Vive la Republique!_" and, in a few seconds, both ships were
hotly engaged--the Portsmouth having the advantage of lying upon the bow
of her antagonist.
As is often the case, the heavy cannonading brought on a dead calm, and
the two ships remained in their respective positions, except that the
Portsmouth's was more favorable, having drawn ahead of the French
vessel, so that her broadside was poured into her opponent, without her
being able to return the fire from more than four or five of her guns.
The fog became more opaque than ever; the two ships had neared each
other considerably, or it would have been impossible to distinguish. All
that they could see from the deck of the Portsmouth was the jib-boom and
cap of the bowsprit of the Frenchman, the rest of her bowsprit, and her
whole hull, were lost in the impenetrable gloom; but that was sufficient
for the men to direct their guns, and the fire from the Portsmouth was
most rapid, although the extent of its execution was unknown. After half
an hour of incessant broadsides, the two vessels had approached each
other so close, that the jib-boom of the Frenchman was pointed between
the fore and main rigging of the Portsmouth. Captain Lumley immediately
gave orders to lash the Frenchman's bowsprit to his mainmast, and this
was accomplished by the first lieutenant, Alfred, and the seamen,
without any serious loss, for the fog was still so thick, that the
Frenchman on their forecastle could not perceive what was doing at their
bowsprit's cap.
"She is ours now," said Captain Lumley to the first lieutenant.
"Yes, sir,--fast enough. I think, if the fog were to clear away, they
would haul down their colors."
"Not till the last, depend upon it," replied Captain Lumley. "Fire away
there, on the main-deck, give them no time to take breath. Mr. Campbell,
tell the second lieutenant to let the foremost lower deck guns be
pointed more aft. I say, not till the last," repeated Captain Lumley to
the first lieutenant; "these republicans will take a good deal of
beating, even upon the water."
"It's clearing up, sir, to the northward a little," said the master.
"I see--yes, it is," replied Captain Lumley. "Well, the sooner the
better: we shall see what has become of all the shot we have been
throwing away."
A white silvery line appeared on the horizon, to the northward;
gradually it increased, and as it rose up, became broader, till at last
the curtain was lifted up, and a few feet were to be seen above the
clear blue water. As it continued to approach, the light became more
vivid, the space below increased, and the water was ruffled with the
coming wind, till at last the fog rolled off as if it had been gradually
furled, and sweeping away in a heavy bank to leeward, exposed the state
and position of the whole convoy, and the contending vessels. The
English seamen on board of the Portsmouth cheered the return of
daylight, as it might truly be termed. Captain Lumley found that they
had been contending in the very center of the convoy, which was still
lying around them, with the exception of about fifteen vessels, which
were a few miles apart, with their heads in an opposite direction. These
were evidently those which had been captured. The two frigates, which
had been stationed in the rear of the convoy, were still two or three
miles distant, but making all sail to come up and assist the Portsmouth.
Many of the convoy, which had been in the direction of the fire,
appeared to have suffered in their masts and sails; but whether any
injury had been received in their hulls it was not possible to say. The
French line-of-battle ship had suffered dreadfully from the fire of the
Portsmouth. Her mainmast and mizzen-mast were over the side, her forward
ports were many of them almost beat into one, and every thing on board
appeared to be in the greatest confusion.
"She can't stand this long," observed Captain Lumley. "Fire away, my
lads."
"The Circe and Vixen are coming down to us, sir," observed the first
lieutenant; "we do not want them, and they will only be an excuse for
the Frenchman to surrender to a superior force. If they recaptured the
vessels taken, they would be of some service."
"Very true. Mr. Campbell, make their signal to pursue captured
vessels."
Alfred ran aft to obey the orders. The flags had just flown out at the
mast-head, when he received a bullet through his arm: for the French,
unable to use the major portion of their guns, had, when the fog cleared
up, poured in incessant volleys of musketry upon the decks of the
Portsmouth. Alfred desired the quarter-master to untie his neck
handkerchief for him, and bind up his arm. Having so done, he continued
to do his duty. A bold attempt was now made by the French to clear their
vessel by cutting the fastening of her bowsprit, but the marines of the
Portsmouth were prepared for them, and after about twenty gallant
fellows had dropped down on the booms and gangways of the Portsmouth,
the attempt was given up, and four minutes afterward the French colors
were hauled down. She was boarded from her bowsprit by the first
lieutenant and a party of seamen. The lashings were cast off, and the
vessels cleared of each other, and then the English seamen gave three
cheers in honor of the victory.