Soon after the funeral was over I was sent for into the Captain's cabin.
I found him and Mr Schank seated there.
"Ben," he said, "my boy, we have been talking over what we can do for
your poor mother. The best thing, I think, will be for her to return to
her home on the first opportunity, and I daresay we shall find a ship
homeward-bound at Malta, on board which she can get a passage, while we
will do our best to raise funds to place her as much as possible at her
ease as to money matters. Now, Ben, I wish to stand your friend; but
you are very young still to knock about at sea without a father to look
after you, and I propose, therefore, that you should return with your
mother. After you have had schooling for a year or two on shore, you
shall rejoin this ship or any other I may command, and then your future
progress will much depend on your own conduct. You will behave well, I
have no doubt you will; but if not, I cannot help you forward as I
desire."
I did not quite comprehend what the Captain proposed, but I understood
enough to know that I had a friend in him, and I accordingly thanked him
for his good intentions. I was still standing hat in hand in the cabin,
for the Captain seemed disposed to ask me further questions, when the
surgeon entered to make his report of the state of the wounded.
"What, more dead I more dead!" exclaimed the poor Captain, as his eye
glanced on the paper.
"Yes, sir," was the answer. "Turner and Green have both slipped their
cables. I had very little hopes of either from the first. There are
one or two more I am afraid will follow them before many days are over."
The Captain hid his face in his hands, and a groan burst from his bosom.
"I would that I had gone myself. It would be better to be among the
sufferers than have this happen," burst from his lips.
Mr Schank tried to console him. "No blame, sir," he said, "could be
attached to you. It was very unlikely that such a ship should have made
so determined a defence, and no forethought could have enabled you to
act differently."
"Yes, yes," answered the Captain, "but to lose all these brave fellows
in such a way," and again he groaned.
No one spoke for some minutes, till at length the surgeon observed that
he hoped Mr Hassel would do well, as his wounds, though severe were not
dangerous.
"From what I can learn, sir," he observed, "he behaved with great
judgment and courage, and I believe it was through him that the boats
got away without further damage."
When the surgeon had gone, the Captain once more addressed me, and made
inquiries about my mother's family and the place of their residence. I,
of course knew very little, but I gave him all the information I
possessed.
"But, perhaps, Mr Schank," I said, "you will let us go and pay your
family a visit. Those were happy times we had there. I think my mother
would rather go there than anywhere else."
Mr Schank who was not at all offended by the liberty I took, replied
that he thought the idea a very good one. When, however, my mother was
asked, she said that she would rather go and be among her own people, if
they would receive her. The truth was, I think I remarked, that her
friends were much above my father's position; and now that she would
have a pension, and a good deal of prize-money, she felt that she could
return and be on an equality with them, as far as fortune was concerned.
These ideas were, however, not on her own account as much as on mine,
as her great ambition was that I might rise in the world. It was, I
truly believe, her only weakness, if weakness it could be called, for
she was proud of me, and I suspect thought a good deal more of me than I
deserved. After this misfortune, we shaped a course for Malta, for the
purpose of replacing the officers and men we had lost, and from thence
the Captain intended to send home my mother and me. Towards evening,
three or four days after the occurrences I have described, several sail
were perceived inside of us, that is to say, to the east. As we were to
windward, we stood down towards them till we made out a line-of-battle
ship, two frigates and a brig. As there was no doubt they were enemies'
ships, our Captain determined to watch them during the night, to
ascertain in what direction they were proceeding. They, however,
objected to this, and were soon seen crowding all sail in chase. We had
now to run for it; and though the "Grecian" was a fast frigate, we well
knew that many of the Frenchmen were faster, and that, short-handed as
we were, it was too certain that we should be captured if they came up
with us. Fortunately the breeze continued, and we made all sail the
frigate could carry. But not only could we distinguish the enemy still
in chase, but the opinion was that they were rapidly gaining on us. I
remember coming on deck and looking out, seeing on our lee-quarter, far
away through the gloom, their dark outlines as they came on in hot
chase. I, saw that everybody was anxious, and I heard several of the
men talking of Verdun, and the way prisoners were treated there. For
the men this was bad enough, but for the officers to be made prisoners
was sad work. Unless they could make their escape or get exchanged, all
prospect of advancement was lost, as was the case with many; the best
part of their years spent in idleness. I understood enough, at all
events, to be very anxious about the matter.
I went below, I remember, and told my poor mother; she, however, seemed
indifferent as to what might occur. Indeed her grief had stunned her,
and she was incapable of either thinking or speaking. As morning
approached the wind fell, and when daylight broke the sails hung up and
down against the masts. We were in a perfect calm, while not three
miles off appeared the French squadron. All hopes of escape seemed
over, and the men began putting on additional clothing and stowing away
their money in their pockets, as seamen generally do when capture is
certain, and often when they expect to be wrecked. The officers walked
the deck looking very anxious, but the Captain and Mr Schank kept their
eyes about on all sides. At length a few cat's-paws were seen playing
over the water. The First-Lieutenant pointed them out to the Captain.
His eyes brightened somewhat. They came faster and faster. And now the
sails once more felt the power of the wind, and away we went pretty
quickly through the water. Ahead of us lay a small island, towards
which the frigate steered. As we approached it we saw the
ship-of-the-line still following us, while the two frigates and corvette
stood away round the west side. Their object was very clear. They
hoped thereby to cut us off.
"We may still disappoint them," I heard Mr Schank observe.
"I trust so," said the Captain; but though he kept up his confidence,
his countenance was very grave. For some time we kept well ahead till
we reached the southernmost end of the island, when once more the wind
falling we lay almost becalmed. We could see to the east the two
frigates and the corvette, their canvas filled by a strong breeze, but
the line-of-battle ship was out of sight, hid by a point of land. The
former might have been five or six miles off, but they were coming up at
the rate of six knots an hour. There was no sign of the breeze reaching
us. Our escape seemed almost impossible. Mr Schank's courage,
however, never failed--at least, it never looked as if it did, and he
seemed to be saying something to the Captain which gave him
encouragement. One of the frigates was considerably ahead of the rest.
At all events we were not likely, therefore, to yield without striking a
blow, and if we could by any means cripple her before her consorts could
come up, we might afterwards be better able to deal with them. Still
there was the line-of-battle ship, and she would be down upon us before
long. A French prison in very vivid colours stared even the bravest of
our men in the face. The officers were looking at their watches.
Within little more than half-an-hour, unless we could get a breeze, we
should be hotly engaged, and then, unless we could beat our enemy in ten
minutes, there would be little prospect of getting away. On she came
over the blue ocean. Looking at the land, we could see a line, as it
were, drawn between us. On our side the water was smooth as a mirror;
on the other, still crisped by the fresh breeze, and glittering in the
sunlight. It was very tantalising. On the leading Frenchman came,
faster and faster. Still the breeze did not touch our sails. At length
we could clearly count her ports, and she appeared in the pure
atmosphere even nearer than perhaps she was. Suddenly she yawed. A
white puff of smoke was seen, and a shot came whizzing across our bows.
Another followed. It struck us, and the yellow splinters were seen
flying from our sides. The men stood at their quarters ready to begin
the fight.
"Not a gun is to be fired till I give the order," cried the Captain.
"That will not be long, I fancy," I heard one of the men say, as I with
other boys brought up the powder from below.
The frigate still held the breeze and was approaching. Yet our Captain
let her get nearer and nearer. In vain, however, our people waited for
the order to fire. Several more shots came flying over the water, and
the Frenchmen seemed now convinced that they had got us well within
range. Suddenly luffing up, the enemy fired her whole broadside. The
shot came flying about us, but did no great damage.
"Trim sails!" cried the Captain, and we edged away towards the blue line
I have mentioned, the wind just then filling out our canvas. Meantime
the Frenchman remained involved in a cloud of smoke. Again and again
she fired her broadside, only hiding herself more completely from view;
while her sails, which had hitherto been full, were now seen to flap
against her masts, and away we went with an increasing breeze. We could
just see the line-of-battle ship hull down on one side, and the two
frigates and corvette becalmed on the other, utterly unable to move,
while we were slipping through the water at the rate of seven or eight
knots an hour.
"I thought it would be so!" exclaimed Mr Schank, increasing the
rapidity of his strides as he paced the deck, and rubbing his hands with
glee. On we went. In a short time not a trace of the Frenchmen could
be discovered, nor did we sight another enemy till we entered Malta
harbour.
Captain Oliver and Mr Schank were as good as their words. They
mentioned among the inhabitants the circumstance of my father's death,
and that his widow and child were on board, and very soon collected a
considerable sum of money, which they presented to my poor mother. Her
excessive grief had now subsided, and a settled melancholy seemed to
have taken possession of her. An armed store-ship which had discharged
her cargo at Malta was returning home, bound for Cork; and on board her
our kind friends procured a passage for my mother and me. We had a sad
parting with our numerous shipmates. The men exhibited the regard they
had for my mother by bestowing on me all sorts of presents; indeed, the
carpenter said he must make me a chest in which to stow them away. My
mother felt leaving our kind friend, Mrs King, more than anything else.
It was curious to see the interesting young woman, as she still was,
embracing the tall, gaunt, weather-beaten virago, as Mrs King appeared
to be.
"Cheer up, Polly, cheer up," said the latter. "You have lost a kind
husband, there is no doubt of that, but you have got your boy to look
after, and he will give you plenty to think about--bless his heart! The
time will come, Polly, when we will meet again, and you will have grown
more contented, I hope; and if not, we shall know each other up aloft
there, where I hope there will be room for me, though I cannot say as
how I feel I am very fit for such a place." Mrs King went talking on,
but my poor mother could make no answer to her remarks, sobs choking her
utterance. Her tears did her good, however, so Mrs King observed, and
told her not to stop them. I was glad to find that the Captain had
appointed Bill King as acting boatswain of the frigate. The midshipman,
Mr Hassel, who had been seriously injured in the unfortunate
expedition, took a passage home in the store-ship. Who should we see on
going on board but my old friends Toby Kiddle and Pat Brady. Pat was
overjoyed at seeing us, though he looked very sad when he heard of my
father's death.
"Arrah, it's a pity a worse man hadn't been taken in his stead," he
observed, "but it can't be helped, Polly. Better luck next time, as Tim
Donovan said when he was going to be hung!"
Pat had been to see his friends, he said, in the West of Ireland, and
Toby Kiddle had been wrecked on the same coast, and having found his way
across to Cork had there, with his old messmate, entered on board the
store-ship. She was to return to Cork, which was very convenient to us,
as my mother could thus more easily travel to the West of Ireland where
her family resided.
The name of the vessel was the "Porpoise," and she was commanded by
Captain Tubb. He put me very much in mind of Captain Cobb, except that
he was considerably stouter. We sailed with a convoy of some fifty
other vessels of all sizes and rigs; the larger portion having generally
to lay to for the "Porpoise," which, with her Captain, rolled away over
the surface of the Atlantic in the wake of the rest. Captain Tubb
declared that his ship was very steady when she had her cargo on board,
but certainly she was very much the contrary under the present
circumstances, and Toby Kiddle remarked that it was a wonder she did not
shake her masts out of her.
My poor mother could very seldom be persuaded to come on deck, but lay
in her cabin scarcely eating anything, or speaking to anyone except to
me, and even then it seemed a pain to her to utter a few words.
From the account I gave Toby and Pat of Captain Oliver, they were very
eager to serve again with him, and they promised that should they ever
have the chance of finding him fitting out a ship, they would
immediately volunteer on board.
I was very glad to hear this, because I hoped they would do so, and that
I again should be with them. We had not a few alarms on our homeward
voyage from the appearance of strange sails which it was supposed were
enemies' cruisers. We, of course, should have been among the first
picked out. However, we escaped all accidents, and at length arrived in
the Cove of Cork. As may be supposed, Toby Kiddle made many inquiries
about the Little Lady. When my mother got to Cork, her heart somewhat
failed her at the thought of going among her own kindred under the
present circumstances, and she began to regret that she had not agreed
to pay a visit in the first place to Lieutenant Schank's family, where
she would have had the consolation of looking after the little girl.
However, it was now too late to do that. We therefore prepared for our
journey to the West. Pat insisted on escorting us, declaring that he
had plenty of money and did not know what else to do with it. Toby,
however, remained on board the old "Porpoise," intending to go round in
her to Portsmouth, where she was next bound with provisions. It was no
easy matter making a journey in the West of Ireland in those days.
There were the coaches, but they were liable to upset and to be robbed.
Although, therefore, posting was dear, Pat settled that such was the
only becoming way for the widow of the "Grecian's" late boatswain to
travel. My mother at length consented to go part of the way in a coach,
performing the remainder in a chaise, when no coach was available.
The place for which we were bound was Ballybruree, a town, it called
itself, on the west coast of the green island. Her father, Mat Dwyer,
Esquire, he signed himself, and her mother, were both alive, and she had
a number of brothers and sisters, and a vast number of cousins to boot.
But I must reserve an account of our reception at Rincurran Castle, for
so my grandfather called his abode, for another chapter.