Ben Burton: Born and Bred at Sea

  CHAPTER TEN.

  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 foryour poor mother. The best thing, I think, will be for her to return toher home on the first opportunity, and I daresay we shall find a shiphomeward-bound at Malta, on board which she can get a passage, while wewill do our best to raise funds to place her as much as possible at herease as to money matters. Now, Ben, I wish to stand your friend; butyou are very young still to knock about at sea without a father to lookafter you, and I propose, therefore, that you should return with yourmother. After you have had schooling for a year or two on shore, youshall rejoin this ship or any other I may command, and then your futureprogress will much depend on your own conduct. You will behave well, Ihave no doubt you will; but if not, I cannot help you forward as Idesire."

  I did not quite comprehend what the Captain proposed, but I understoodenough to know that I had a friend in him, and I accordingly thanked himfor his good intentions. I was still standing hat in hand in the cabin,for the Captain seemed disposed to ask me further questions, when thesurgeon entered to make his report of the state of the wounded.

  "What, more dead I more dead!" exclaimed the poor Captain, as his eyeglanced on the paper.

  "Yes, sir," was the answer. "Turner and Green have both slipped theircables. I had very little hopes of either from the first. There areone 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 thesufferers than have this happen," burst from his lips.

  Mr Schank tried to console him. "No blame, sir," he said, "could beattached to you. It was very unlikely that such a ship should have madeso determined a defence, and no forethought could have enabled you toact differently."

  "Yes, yes," answered the Captain, "but to lose all these brave fellowsin such a way," and again he groaned.

  No one spoke for some minutes, till at length the surgeon observed thathe hoped Mr Hassel would do well, as his wounds, though severe were notdangerous.

  "From what I can learn, sir," he observed, "he behaved with greatjudgment and courage, and I believe it was through him that the boatsgot away without further damage."

  When the surgeon had gone, the Captain once more addressed me, and madeinquiries about my mother's family and the place of their residence. I,of course knew very little, but I gave him all the information Ipossessed.

  "But, perhaps, Mr Schank," I said, "you will let us go and pay yourfamily a visit. Those were happy times we had there. I think my motherwould rather go there than anywhere else."

  Mr Schank who was not at all offended by the liberty I took, repliedthat he thought the idea a very good one. When, however, my mother wasasked, she said that she would rather go and be among her own people, ifthey would receive her. The truth was, I think I remarked, that herfriends were much above my father's position; and now that she wouldhave a pension, and a good deal of prize-money, she felt that she couldreturn 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, Itruly believe, her only weakness, if weakness it could be called, forshe was proud of me, and I suspect thought a good deal more of me than Ideserved. After this misfortune, we shaped a course for Malta, for thepurpose of replacing the officers and men we had lost, and from thencethe Captain intended to send home my mother and me. Towards evening,three or four days after the occurrences I have described, several sailwere perceived inside of us, that is to say, to the east. As we were towindward, we stood down towards them till we made out a line-of-battleship, two frigates and a brig. As there was no doubt they were enemies'ships, our Captain determined to watch them during the night, toascertain in what direction they were proceeding. They, however,objected to this, and were soon seen crowding all sail in chase. We hadnow to run for it; and though the "Grecian" was a fast frigate, we wellknew that many of the Frenchmen were faster, and that, short-handed aswe were, it was too certain that we should be captured if they came upwith us. Fortunately the breeze continued, and we made all sail thefrigate could carry. But not only could we distinguish the enemy stillin chase, but the opinion was that they were rapidly gaining on us. Iremember coming on deck and looking out, seeing on our lee-quarter, faraway through the gloom, their dark outlines as they came on in hotchase. I, saw that everybody was anxious, and I heard several of themen talking of Verdun, and the way prisoners were treated there. Forthe men this was bad enough, but for the officers to be made prisonerswas sad work. Unless they could make their escape or get exchanged, allprospect of advancement was lost, as was the case with many; the bestpart of their years spent in idleness. I understood enough, at allevents, to be very anxious about the matter.

  I went below, I remember, and told my poor mother; she, however, seemedindifferent as to what might occur. Indeed her grief had stunned her,and she was incapable of either thinking or speaking. As morningapproached the wind fell, and when daylight broke the sails hung up anddown against the masts. We were in a perfect calm, while not threemiles off appeared the French squadron. All hopes of escape seemedover, and the men began putting on additional clothing and stowing awaytheir money in their pockets, as seamen generally do when capture iscertain, and often when they expect to be wrecked. The officers walkedthe deck looking very anxious, but the Captain and Mr Schank kept theireyes about on all sides. At length a few cat's-paws were seen playingover the water. The First-Lieutenant pointed them out to the Captain.His eyes brightened somewhat. They came faster and faster. And now thesails once more felt the power of the wind, and away we went prettyquickly through the water. Ahead of us lay a small island, towardswhich the frigate steered. As we approached it we saw theship-of-the-line still following us, while the two frigates and corvettestood away round the west side. Their object was very clear. Theyhoped 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 tillwe reached the southernmost end of the island, when once more the windfalling we lay almost becalmed. We could see to the east the twofrigates and the corvette, their canvas filled by a strong breeze, butthe line-of-battle ship was out of sight, hid by a point of land. Theformer might have been five or six miles off, but they were coming up atthe rate of six knots an hour. There was no sign of the breeze reachingus. Our escape seemed almost impossible. Mr Schank's courage,however, never failed--at least, it never looked as if it did, and heseemed to be saying something to the Captain which gave himencouragement. One of the frigates was considerably ahead of the rest.At all events we were not likely, therefore, to yield without striking ablow, and if we could by any means cripple her before her consorts couldcome up, we might afterwards be better able to deal with them. Stillthere was the line-of-battle ship, and she would be down upon us beforelong. A French prison in very vivid colours stared even the bravest ofour men in the face. The officers were looking at their watches.Within little more than half-an-hour, unless we could get a breeze, weshould be hotly engaged, and then, unless we could beat our enemy in tenminutes, there would be little prospect of getting away. On she cameover the blue ocean. Looking at the land, we could see a line, as itwere, 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 thesunlight. It was very tantalising. On the leading Frenchman came,faster and faster. Still the breeze did not touch our sails. At lengthwe could clearly count her ports, and she appeared in the pureatmosphere even nearer than perhaps she was. Suddenly she yawed. Awhite puff of smoke was seen, and a shot came whizzing across our bow
s.Another followed. It struck us, and the yellow splinters were seenflying from our sides. The men stood at their quarters ready to beginthe 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 withother boys brought up the powder from below.

  The frigate still held the breeze and was approaching. Yet our Captainlet her get nearer and nearer. In vain, however, our people waited forthe order to fire. Several more shots came flying over the water, andthe Frenchmen seemed now convinced that they had got us well withinrange. Suddenly luffing up, the enemy fired her whole broadside. Theshot came flying about us, but did no great damage.

  "Trim sails!" cried the Captain, and we edged away towards the blue lineI have mentioned, the wind just then filling out our canvas. Meantimethe Frenchman remained involved in a cloud of smoke. Again and againshe fired her broadside, only hiding herself more completely from view;while her sails, which had hitherto been full, were now seen to flapagainst her masts, and away we went with an increasing breeze. We couldjust see the line-of-battle ship hull down on one side, and the twofrigates and corvette becalmed on the other, utterly unable to move,while we were slipping through the water at the rate of seven or eightknots an hour.

  "I thought it would be so!" exclaimed Mr Schank, increasing therapidity of his strides as he paced the deck, and rubbing his hands withglee. On we went. In a short time not a trace of the Frenchmen couldbe discovered, nor did we sight another enemy till we entered Maltaharbour.

  Captain Oliver and Mr Schank were as good as their words. Theymentioned among the inhabitants the circumstance of my father's death,and that his widow and child were on board, and very soon collected aconsiderable sum of money, which they presented to my poor mother. Herexcessive grief had now subsided, and a settled melancholy seemed tohave taken possession of her. An armed store-ship which had dischargedher cargo at Malta was returning home, bound for Cork; and on board herour kind friends procured a passage for my mother and me. We had a sadparting with our numerous shipmates. The men exhibited the regard theyhad for my mother by bestowing on me all sorts of presents; indeed, thecarpenter said he must make me a chest in which to stow them away. Mymother 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 appearedto be.

  "Cheer up, Polly, cheer up," said the latter. "You have lost a kindhusband, there is no doubt of that, but you have got your boy to lookafter, and he will give you plenty to think about--bless his heart! Thetime will come, Polly, when we will meet again, and you will have grownmore contented, I hope; and if not, we shall know each other up aloftthere, where I hope there will be room for me, though I cannot say ashow 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 herutterance. Her tears did her good, however, so Mrs King observed, andtold her not to stop them. I was glad to find that the Captain hadappointed Bill King as acting boatswain of the frigate. The midshipman,Mr Hassel, who had been seriously injured in the unfortunateexpedition, took a passage home in the store-ship. Who should we see ongoing on board but my old friends Toby Kiddle and Pat Brady. Pat wasoverjoyed at seeing us, though he looked very sad when he heard of myfather's death.

  "Arrah, it's a pity a worse man hadn't been taken in his stead," heobserved, "but it can't be helped, Polly. Better luck next time, as TimDonovan said when he was going to be hung!"

  Pat had been to see his friends, he said, in the West of Ireland, andToby Kiddle had been wrecked on the same coast, and having found his wayacross to Cork had there, with his old messmate, entered on board thestore-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 whereher family resided.

  The name of the vessel was the "Porpoise," and she was commanded byCaptain Tubb. He put me very much in mind of Captain Cobb, except thathe was considerably stouter. We sailed with a convoy of some fiftyother vessels of all sizes and rigs; the larger portion having generallyto lay to for the "Porpoise," which, with her Captain, rolled away overthe surface of the Atlantic in the wake of the rest. Captain Tubbdeclared that his ship was very steady when she had her cargo on board,but certainly she was very much the contrary under the presentcircumstances, and Toby Kiddle remarked that it was a wonder she did notshake her masts out of her.

  My poor mother could very seldom be persuaded to come on deck, but layin her cabin scarcely eating anything, or speaking to anyone except tome, 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 veryeager to serve again with him, and they promised that should they everhave the chance of finding him fitting out a ship, they wouldimmediately volunteer on board.

  I was very glad to hear this, because I hoped they would do so, and thatI again should be with them. We had not a few alarms on our homewardvoyage from the appearance of strange sails which it was supposed wereenemies' cruisers. We, of course, should have been among the firstpicked out. However, we escaped all accidents, and at length arrived inthe Cove of Cork. As may be supposed, Toby Kiddle made many inquiriesabout the Little Lady. When my mother got to Cork, her heart somewhatfailed her at the thought of going among her own kindred under thepresent circumstances, and she began to regret that she had not agreedto pay a visit in the first place to Lieutenant Schank's family, whereshe would have had the consolation of looking after the little girl.However, it was now too late to do that. We therefore prepared for ourjourney to the West. Pat insisted on escorting us, declaring that hehad 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 inher to Portsmouth, where she was next bound with provisions. It was noeasy 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 theonly becoming way for the widow of the "Grecian's" late boatswain totravel. 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 calleditself, on the west coast of the green island. Her father, Mat Dwyer,Esquire, he signed himself, and her mother, were both alive, and she hada 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, forso my grandfather called his abode, for another chapter.