With Wellington in Spain: A Story of the Peninsula

  CHAPTER III

  Aboard a British Frigate

  "Below there! You can come along up on deck, me hearties!"

  An age seemed to have passed since Tom and his six companions weredriven from the deck of the big ship to which they had been broughtby the pressgang, and though the former had slept for many hours--forhe had been exhausted after such a trying experience--yet the fewhours he had been awake had dragged on leaden wheels. Meanwhilethe rattle of blocks and ropes overhead had been replaced by thegentle surge of water alongside, and by a thousand strange groaningsand squeakings common to all sailing vessels. Indeed, placed wherehe was, with his head close to the foot of one of the masts, thatpenetrated the deck of the ship and passed through the dark prison inwhich he and his comrades were confined, Tom could by the vibrationsand the groanings of the latter tell exactly when the wind freshenedand the sails dragged more strongly. But now, when he had begun toimagine that he would never again see the light of day, there was abanging overhead, then a square of light appeared, with faces framedin it, while a hoarse voice bellowed a command. Tom rose briskly tohis feet, and, seeing the ladder, ran up it.

  "Here!" he reported, standing erect and cheerful. For Tom was, inhis youthful way, quite a philosopher. "What can't be cured mustbe endured," was one of his maxims. "I'm impressed, by some errorI suppose, and soon will be able to get the matter set right; butfor the moment it's just as well to appear pleasant. Here, sir!" hereported to a short, stumpy individual with a decided flavour of thesea about him, and with a nautical appearance that would have passedhim as a sailor in any port in the world.

  "And ready fer duty too, eh, me hearty?" asked this bluff fellow,eyeing him critically, and taking Tom's measure very thoroughly.Looking back at him our hero could not help but see that this sailorhad a grim expression. His face appeared to say: "Well, now, youcan work if you like. If you don't you'll be hammered." There was athreat in his eyes, and a jaunty manner about him which told that hewas prepared for the most refractory conduct.

  "Ready fer duty, eh?" he repeated gruffly.

  "Yes, sir," responded Tom promptly.

  "Then jest you don't sir me, young feller-me-lad, else I'll thinkyou're saucing. But I like yer looks--get up on deck with you. Mr.Riley, above there," he hailed, throwing his head back and staringup through an open hatch, "here's a lubber as is willing and readyfer duty!"

  Tom caught a glimpse of an individual dressed in white breeches andstockings, and a blue tail coat with some gilt braid about it, and,realizing that this must be an officer, promptly mounted the steps.In a moment or two he was on deck, standing beneath an expanse ofwhite canvas, and upon boards which were as white as any tablecloth.Bluejackets were moving barefoot about the deck, while right aft anofficer stood at the rail of the poop, a speaking-trumpet in onehand, his eye fixed on a dozen active figures scrambling amongst therigging. Tom gave a gasp of pleasure as the sun's rays fell uponhim, braced himself erect, and then looked the officer in the face.He was a young man of twenty-six, perhaps, with clean-shaven, keenfeatures, his skin tanned brown by exposure, and the corners of hiseyes wrinkled and puckered as is the case with many sailors. For therest, Mr. Riley was decidedly a pleasant, jovial-looking officer, andwon Tom's confidence at once.

  "Well, my lad?" he asked pleasantly.

  "Ready for duty, sir," reported Tom again, having nothing better tosay. "And hungry, sir," he added, feeling a decided sinking sensation.

  That brought a smile to the lips of the officer. He looked our heroup and down, just as the man down below had done, and then smiledagain.

  "What trade before you joined?" he asked, referring to a notebook,and producing a pencil with which to take notes.

  "None, sir; I am the son of Mr. Septimus John Clifford, of LondonBridge, wine merchant. My impressment must be a mistake."

  "All impressments are mistakes," came the curt answer. "You are readyto serve His Majesty?"

  "Yes, sir," answered Tom. "Ready for the moment. Later on, when Iam able to prove that a mistake has been made, no doubt I shall bereleased. I'm ready for any duty, only I'd like a feed first."

  "No trade; says he is the son of a wine merchant at London Bridge.Obviously a gentleman," Mr. Riley entered in his notebook. "A likelyfellow, and cheerful. Will start duty at once, and willingly. Passthe call there for the master messman."

  He stood before Tom, his neat figure swaying as the ship lurched hereand there, his eyes now fixed on the swelling canvas, now on theofficer at the rail, and often, when Tom's attention was attractedelsewhere, at that young fellow himself.

  "Undoubtedly a gentleman," he told himself. "Of course in the case ofnearly every man who is impressed there is a complaint that the thingis a mistake, that he ought never to have been impressed. In any casethe whole thing is disgraceful. Better pay and better conditionswould attract the right stamp of man to the navy. But we're here tocarry out regulations, not to frame them. I'll keep my eye on thelad. Name again?" he asked, making Tom jump.

  "Tom Clifford."

  "That the full name?" asked the officer, beginning to make anothernote.

  "Septimus John Esteros Thomas Clifford," responded our hero, with agrimace. "Rather a lot of 'em, sir, I'm afraid."

  "Enough even for an admiral," laughed the officer. "Ah, here's themessman! Waters, just take this young fellow with you and see that hegets a good meal. Report here to me, Clifford, when you have eaten."

  He swung round to stare down into the depths of the ship, for soundswere coming from the prison in which Tom and his companions hadbeen confined. There was the noise of a scuffle, while a glancebelow showed the burly, stumpy salt who had hailed the impressed menswarming down into the depths. Some of the men were, in fact, loathto come up. Unlike Tom, they were disposed to be sulky, and, lesttrouble should follow, three sailors were swarming down after the oldsalt, one bearing a lantern.

  "Below there!" called out Mr. Riley, anxious to avoid a struggle."You men must understand that you have been impressed into HisMajesty's Navy, and any disobedience of orders now, or violence, willbe treated as mutiny. Send them up, me lad!"

  The lamp shining upon the face of the old salt who had led the waybelow, and the fierce expression he wore quelled any thought ofmutiny there may have been, and within five minutes the other six menbrought aboard with Tom were ranged on the deck, pale and dishevelledfor the most part, sulky and anything but cheerful in appearance. Mr.Riley gave them the same searching examination that he had bestowedon Tom, and then entered their names and notes concerning each one inhis book.

  "Take them down to the messman and see that they have a good meal,"he commanded, when he had finished. "They'll feel better when they'vehad it; and, mind this, my lads, a sulky face'll do nothing for youaboard this frigate. It'll bring kicks and cuffs and short rations;so look at the matter from the right point of view and take to thelife cheerfully."

  He dispatched them with a pleasant smile, for this Mr. Riley was akind individual, and one well accustomed to dealing with men. Hehad the wisdom to see that hunger may produce easily enough a fitof sulkiness, and seeing that all the impressed men must be in wantof a meal, and were undoubtedly sulky, he sent them off for thatmeal, hoping that with appetites satiated they would take to theirduties with the same readiness as our hero had shown. Nor was hedisappointed. When, half an hour later, the six men ascended to thedeck again, they looked far happier, and from that moment fell intothe ways of the ship with a cheerfulness that was commendable. As forTom, he was up before them, and scrambling over the deck as best hecould--for the breeze had freshened, and the big frigate was jumpingabout in a lively manner--he drew himself up before the officer.

  "Ready, sir!" he said, repeating the old expression.

  "Feel seasick?" came the interrogation.

  "Not a bit, sir. I've been to sea a few times with my father. We usedto hire a sloop and cruise along the coast in summertime."

  "Then you're used to getting aloft?"

  "A little, sir, but onl
y aboard a sloop. These masts are terrific."

  He cast his eyes aloft, and the officer likewise. There could be nodoubt that the masts did tower to a great height. But then this wasa large frigate, with seventy grinning guns behind her closed ports.Tom knew that already, for the messman who had conducted him below,and who was decidedly a pleasant, kindly individual, had given himmuch information. The meal, too, had been partaken of on the lowerdeck, where the space between it and that above was so cramped thateven Tom could not stand upright, while all along the sides, firmlycabled to ring-bolts in the deck, were grinning cannon, sponge rodsand all the paraphernalia necessary for loading being hung on racksclose to them, and secured there firmly.

  "You'd go aloft without feeling squeamish then?" asked Mr. Riley,feeling a strange interest in our hero.

  "I'd go, sir," came the ready answer. "Whether I'd exactly like it atfirst is an altogether different matter."

  "Then you'll soon have the opportunity of making the test. You'll bein my watch, Clifford. Now come along up on the poop. Don't forget totouch your cap as you come up; ah, wait though! We'll put you intoproper sailor rig first; I'll send you down to be fitted."

  It was perhaps half an hour later when a smart-looking young sailorobeyed the call of the boatswain and came aft to the poop. Dressed inhis new clothing, his hair brushed and his face and hands washed, Tomlooked a really smart young fellow, and Mr. Riley smiled his approvalwhen he saw him.

  "Pass him up, boatswain," he called, and at the order the burlyindividual shouted at our hero.

  "Mind yer touch yer cap as you get above," he warned him, "just asMr. Riley had done." And, obedient to the order, Tom raised his handthe moment his foot touched the poop or quarterdeck of the frigate.

  "Come with me, Clifford," said Mr. Riley, leading the way. "I'mtaking you to the commander. Fair-play is a thing a sailor prizes,and, as you complain that there has been some mistake about yourimpressment, I reported the same to the commander. He will questionyou himself."

  They passed across a snow-white deck and entered a gallery, outsidewhich an armed sentry was stationed. The officer tapped at a door,and passed in, followed by our hero. Tom found himself in a largecabin, at the back of which two guns were situated, roped andsecured to deck rings as were those others he had seen in the 'tweendecks. An officer, dressed just like Mr. Riley, but evidently older,sat at a table, with charts spread out before him. He looked up asthe two entered, and then went on writing.

  "One of the new men, sir; impressed two nights ago; reports that hewas taken in error. You have the notes of his case before you."

  Once more Tom found himself being inspected with that open gaze whichis the right of all officers. He returned the glance of his commanderrespectfully and firmly.

  "Age?" asked the officer jerkily.

  "Nearly eighteen, sir.

  "Tell me all about yourself, lad," came from the commander, and withsuch kindness that Tom promptly responded. He gave the history ofthe family in a few words, and stated how he was about to sail forOporto, there to learn the business of the firm and take charge whenproficient.

  "Ah! Anyone with a grudge against you?" was asked quickly.

  Tom wondered and racked his brains. He could think of no one, unlessit could be the grocer's young man, who was wont to pass along theriver bank every morning. Exactly two months before he had had analtercation with that young fellow, who stood a trifle higher thanhe did, and was at least a year older. He had shown rudeness whenpassing Marguerite, and Tom had resented the rudeness. The fightthat followed had been of the fiercest, and the grocer's apprenticehad been handsomely beaten.

  "No one, sir," he answered, "unless it could be the fellow I had arow with some weeks ago," and then explained the occurrence.

  "Pooh! Impossible," declared the commander. "Lads who get fightingdon't bear ill will. The letting of a little blood cures a young chapof that entirely. You shook hands?"

  "Yes, sir."

  "Good. Then look elsewhere; someone perhaps was jealous of you,thought you were a nuisance. Who were the other members of the firmand the family?"

  Tom told him, wondering all the while whether there were one amongstthem capable of getting him impressed so as to remove him. "Jose?" heasked himself. "Impossible! He'd never be guilty of such ingratitudeto father, though I suppose, if I were out of the way, he wouldsucceed to the business one of these fine days."

  Little by little the commander ferreted such thoughts out of ourhero, and ended by placing his finger on the name of Jose.

  "Your cousin, you said," he exclaimed. "You were always good friends?"

  Tom had to reply in the negative, and give the reasons.

  "And he was next in succession to yourself, I think?"

  "Yes, sir. But--but it's impossible! My father rescued him and hissister from poverty."

  "Nothing is impossible, my lad. This matter must be looked into.There seems no doubt that you have been impressed in the hope ofremoving you altogether. Or the matter may have been a mistake,helped by the fact that you were in those parts at a time when youshould have been safely at home. For the moment you are in theservice of His Majesty, and although I could order that you be givenno duty, I've an idea that that would hardly meet with your wishes?"

  "I'd rather work, sir," responded Tom eagerly. "I like ship life,and the experience may be useful. If only you will give me theopportunity of writing home, I will willingly act as one of the handsaboard, and work in that way till I am released."

  "That's the spirit, my lad," exclaimed the commander. "He's in yourwatch, Mr. Riley, and I know you'll look after him. As to writing,you can do that; Mr. Riley shall see to it. I also will write to yourfather and to the authorities. We shall fall in with a boat homewardbound shortly, and in a week perhaps your people will know what hasbecome of you. There, my lad, I like your spirit."

  The commander shook hands with our hero, an uncommon honour, and thensent him off with Mr. Riley. And that very night Tom sat down in thelatter's cabin to write his letter, telling his father exactly whathad happened.

  Next morning, early daylight, the first streak of dawn in fact, foundhim on deck, his feet naked, a deck brush in his hand. He joined thegang of men engaged in washing down, and, if the truth be known,thoroughly enjoyed the experience. Meanwhile the fine frigate waspressing along under easy sail, a fresh wind abeam, ploughing her waythrough a sunlit sea that might have belonged to the Mediterranean.

  "We're jest cruising on and off watching for a Frenchie, me lad,"explained one of his messmates, a jovial old salt who had seen manyan action at sea. "There's never no saying when a Frenchie may turnup, and then we're bound to be at 'em. But they ain't so frequentnowadays as they was. Yer see, Spain and Portugal being joined toFrance, the French has simply to slip over the mountains, and that'show they're sendin' men in to fill the ranks of their armies. Queerthing, ain't it, that Boney should want them countries for his own?He's always a-grabbin'. The earth won't find lands enough for himby the way he's going on. But he'll get beaten handsome some day. Iain't so sure as we won't do it for him. Know all about this herecampaign in the Peninsula, as Spain and Portugal's called?"

  Tom modestly admitted that he knew something about the fighting."It's a long business," he said. "Boney put his own brother on thethrone of Spain, and of course the Spaniards wouldn't have him. Atthe same time he had taken Portugal for himself. He's been theterror of Europe these many years, and as he aims at subjugatingEngland also, why, we gladly agreed to go in and help the Portugueseand Spaniards. As for the fighting, there's been such a heap of itthat it is quite bewildering."

  "Aye, and it's easy to see as you're a gent as has been used tobetter things than the lower deck," said the salt. "What're you herefor? Grabbin' something that wasn't yourn?"

  He put out a hand to touch Tom's sleeve the instant after, for he sawhim flush with indignation. "I'm sorry, lad," he said. "It's plain asit wasn't that."

  However, the lower deck in those days was not peopled ent
irely bykindly disposed individuals. Bluff and hearty and plucky men therewere in abundance, if their language was not always refined or theirhabits too particular. But then, as now perhaps, the coming of ayoung fellow of Tom's stamp amidst a rather rough crowd was apt todraw attention to him, attention not always of the most pleasing. Andit so happened that there was one in the mess to which Tom had beenposted who seemed to resent his coming. Higgins was a bull-necked,squint-eyed young fellow of some twenty years, and had been sent froma prison to the navy, as had many another. He was possessed of athin, mean face, over which dangled one long forelock. For the rest,it may be stated that he was accustomed as a general rule to say verylittle, having discovered himself unpopular amongst the men; though,to be sure, whenever there did happen to arrive aboard the ship ayoungster smaller than himself, Higgins was the first to attempt tobully him. For some reason he had taken a violent dislike to Tom.Possibly he was jealous of the attention he had gained, or of the wayin which he came to good terms with the men. Whatever the cause, hewas determined to browbeat him, and took this, the first opportunity.

  "I dunno as you ain't right, Jim," he sang out coarsely, the instantthe other had spoken. "Why shouldn't he be here for grabbin'? There'slots comes to the navy on that account, and why shouldn't he? I'lllay he has, too."

  "Then you're mistaken," said Tom firmly. "I was impressed; every foolknows that."

  "Oh, every fool knows it, do they?" was the sharp answer. "You ain'tcalling me a fool?"

  "Jest you put a stopper on yer tongue and belay," sang out the salt,seeing all the elements of a quarrel in this discussion, and noticingTom's flushed cheeks, and the rising anger of Higgins. "'Sides, Iain't Jim to you, me lad, and don't you ferget it. I'll take a rope'send to you afore you're a minute older if you ain't careful."

  But Higgins had allowed his temper to rise to the point where it wasuncontrollable. He had expected Tom to accept his remarks meekly, asbecame a new hand, and, finding he had not done so, was determinedto pick a quarrel with him. There are always such cantankerousindividuals in the world, and it was Tom's fortune to hit up againstthis one. He, too, was roused, for he resented the man's impertinence.

  "I'll back as he's a jail bird," declared Higgins, thinking that bymaking a firm stand in this altercation he would stimulate his ownpopularity amongst the men. "He's a gent that's took the money out ofthe till and then been collared. The easiest way to cover the thingwas to hand him over to a crimp. That's how he's here--I know him."

  He had probably never set eyes on our hero before, and had he done sowould not have dared to address him in such a manner. But Tom was oneof the deck hands, one of themselves, and, moreover, a newly-joinedrecruit, too often destined for a time to be the butt of his fellows.Higgins counted on his giving way at once. Most recruits areawe-stricken at first by the strangeness of their surroundings, andperhaps by the roughness of their companions. Besides, bullying airsand ways, backed most probably by other individuals, are apt to causea young fellow to choose the easier path and swallow his displeasure.However, Tom was one of the obstinate sort. Fighting was nothing newto him, and to show his readiness for a contest, and the fact that hewas by no means afraid of an encounter, he promptly began hostilitiesby pitching the contents of a jug of water over Higgins.

  "I'll ask you to understand that when I say a thing I mean it, andthat I tell a lie for no one," he said, rising from his seat andundoing the neckerchief which he, like the others, wore about him."I don't know what the rules are aboard a king's ship; but this I doknow, I allow no man to suggest that I am a thief or a liar. Takeback what you've said or I'll trounce you."

  There was a commotion in the 'tween decks by now. Men crowded aboutthe long narrow tables stretching from the side of the ship towardsthe centre, and which was one of many. Like the rest, too, it wasconstructed to lift up to the deck above and be attached there,leaving the decks free for movement. Jim had meanwhile risen to hisfeet, and now held his hand high for silence.

  "Mates," he said, "there's trouble brewin' here. This new mate ofours is a good 'un, and I'll not allow him to be stamped on. Higginshere has just now called him a thief and a liar, and the young sparkhas drenched him with water. If Higgins don't come down handsome witha 'pology there's only one thing left."

  "A set to, and right it'll be," burst in another of the men, one ofthe seniors. "Fightin' don't do no great harm, and it's necessarywhen one mate calls another names that tastes nasty. You, Higgins,admit you called him a liar and a thief?"

  "Of course," came the coarse answer. "I'm goin' ter thrash him."

  "You are, are you?" came the grim reply from the old salt, while hesized up the two young fellows swiftly, craning his head to one sideas if he were a bird. "I dunno so much; the new mate looks as if hecould use his hands lively. You ain't goin' to 'pologize?"

  "Not likely! I'll hammer him till he'll be glad to admit that whatI've said's as true as gospel."

  If he imagined that Tom would keep him waiting he was much mistaken,for that young fellow had already rolled his sleeves to the elbow.Indeed, as we have intimated, he was no novice. Not that he was bynature quarrelsome; but those were rough days, and like many anotherboy Tom had need now and again to defend his honour. He stood awayfrom the table, waiting while it and two or three next to it wereswung out of the way. Then, bending low so that his head would nothit the deck above, he stepped to the centre of the circle which themen immediately formed.

  "Any sort of rules?" he asked coolly. "Anyone keepin' time?"

  "Go as you please, mate," came Jim's answer. "A sailor don't ax ferbreathing time if he comes up alongside a Frenchie, and you don'thave no call for it either. It's the same fer both, and as fair andsquare as may be. But it'll have to be straight work. We stops thefight if there's foul hitting."

  A fight in the 'tween decks was no unusual occurrence in thosedays, and was a source of some interest to the men of the navy.Hard fellows without an exception, they had been brought up in astern school which taught that a man must look to himself alone forprotection. But they could recognize spirit, and Tom took their fancywonderfully.

  "He's game, he is," declared one of the men, as he doubled his armsand pressed forward to watch the contest. "And he ain't no weakling.You can see as he's not used to haulin' and suchlike, and ain't beena tar over long. But I like his figure-head. It's clean and well-cut,and he's a beam on him that carries weight, and'll lend strength toa blow when he gets one home. He ain't no new 'un at the game, I'llstake my Davy. That boy has been grappled on to a job like this manya time."

  The ten minutes which followed proved that Tom was something alsoof a scientist; for he played with his antagonist. It was clear, infact, after five minutes that he would be the victor, though at firsthe had some ugly rushes to stop and some hard hitting to protecthimself from. But science and generally good condition told, andwhile at the end of some ten minutes, during which the two broke awaynow and again to pant and glare at one another, only to begin oncemore at the shouts of the crew, Higgins was almost in a condition ofexhaustion, Tom was still comparatively fresh. He stopped a furiousand last attempt on the part of Higgins to rush him up against theside of the ship, and then, darting forward, struck the man full inthe mouth, sending him sprawling.

  Higgins lay for a minute without movement, and then his hand wentback towards the knife which, sailor-like, he carried attached to hisbelt and well behind him.

  "Drop that!" shouted Jim. "Now, Higgins, you as was a-goin' ter whackthis young shaver, say as you 'pologize for callin' him names."

  For a second there was defiance on what was still recognizable asthat young man's face. Then he nodded his head in assent. Tom at oncewent towards him, his hand outstretched.

  "Shake hands, and let's be friends," he said. "I dare say you didn'tunderstand how I'd take what you said. But where I come from a manfights and fights again when another calls him thief or liar. There,shake hands and let's be friends in the future."

  There was a cheer at that, while
the men gathered round our hero,patting him on the back with such heartiness that his remainingbreath was almost driven from his body. Some of the more enthusiasticeven began to chair him, and had carried him as far as the deckladder, when the sudden shrill piping of whistles and the appearanceof an officer put a stop to the movement. It was Mr. Riley, a longglass beneath one arm, his other hand on the rail of the ladder.

  "My lads," he began, about to give an order, and then, suddenlycatching sight of Tom, ceased abruptly. Casting his eye over theheads of the men, he soon picked out the somewhat miserable figure ofHiggins.

  "Ah," he said, "a fight! My lads, strictly against orders. But I'venews for you--we've rounded up a Frenchman. Clear these decks."

  He was gone in a twinkling, his coat tails swinging behind him. Butas he turned he contrived to smile at our hero.

  "Licked that young man Higgins. That's good," he was saying as heraced up the ladder. "Young Clifford has courage. Wonder how he'llbehave when shot and cannon balls come crashing amongst us; he's justthe boy for this service."

  When Tom had washed his face and had clambered to the deck he saw alarge vessel some four miles away, bearing up towards the frigate,while a smaller one sailed behind her.

  "Ship o' the line, mate," said Jim, who was leader of the squad ofmen of whom our hero was one, who had the working of one gun. "It'llbe tough business, and ef she wasn't so big I doubt as she'd sail upso cocky towards us. But we'll give her what for; we're fair death onFrenchies."

  A magnificent sight the Frenchman made as the distance between thetwo vessels decreased. Tom peeped at her through the wide-open portand admired the enormous spread of white above her, the seething foamat her forefoot, and the gleam of her broad decks that came into viewnow and again as the ship heaved to the swell of the ocean. Thena spout of white smoke burst from her fo'castle; a flash severedit in twain and was followed after a distinct interval by a dullreverberating report. The shot reached its mark almost at the samemoment. There was a crash within ten feet of Tom. The side of thevessel at that point burst inward in a hundred splinters, and theiron messenger struck the very next gun to his, slithered and crashedacross the 'tween decks, and finally brought up short against theopposite side. It roused a cheer of excitement from the crew.

  "That's shootin'!" cried Jim. "She's the sort for our money. In ajiffy we'll be layin' into her. Just take a sight along the gun, Tom,and larn now how to pitch a ball into a Frenchie."