As We Sweep Through The Deep
CHAPTER XVIII.
"WOULD HE EVER COME AGAIN?"
"A sailor's life's the life for me, He takes his duty merrily; If bullets whistle, Jack can sing, Still faithful to his friend and king." DIBDIN.
Jack was right about love and "the creel," or rather, I should say, theold song is right,--
"Mickle lighter is the boat When love bears up the creel."
For the next three months the swift _Tonneraire_ was here, there, andeverywhere--except in England. She cruised much farther south, andchiefly along the coast of France, and seldom put into harbour except tocut out some merchantman, snugly ensconced, perhaps, under the guns of afort, and deeming herself in a very safe position. It was,unfortunately for her, the feeling of security that proved her ruin.
Three or four several times did the _Tonneraire_ thus prove herself acrack ship. A crack ship with a crack crew and officers, remember; forthe best of ships is but a drone unless well managed. Not even a drone,indeed; for a drone is a most duty-full bee, and a most respectablemember of the apiarian republic. There is a vast deal of veryindifferent music in the very best of fiddles, and I feel quiteconvinced that had some less active officer commanded even the_Tonneraire_, he would have had little to show at the end of his cruise.
In his daring cutting-out expeditions Jack had been invariablysuccessful. First and foremost he chased the vessel, and failing tooverhaul her, he bore away seawards again, as if he had given up allhope, she perhaps taking refuge under the guns of a fort. But althoughhe might sail out of sight of land, soon as the shades of evening beganto fall the _Tonneraire_ came round. Then all depended on cleverness andpluck.
The _Ferdinand_ was a gun-brig that, on the morning of the 12th of June'97, had saucily fired at the _Tonneraire_, then shown her a clean pairof heels. She was near to the port of T----, so could afford to beinsolent. Jack sent a fifty-six pound shot tearing through her rigging,without doing much damage, on which the _Ferdinand_ fired again from herstern. Only a puff of white smoke, only a ten-pound shot, with a soundwithal like that of a boy's pop-gun. But it was enough. Jack's Highlandblood was up; and he said to M'Hearty, who was near him on the poop,"I'll have her, if only for her insolence."
M'Hearty laughed. It was not polite; but he couldn't help it. For thedoctor and captain of the _Tonneraire_ were the dearest friends.
"You've been much livelier and happier within this last month or two,"said M'Hearty. "Tell me, sir, are you in love?"
"What would you do if I were?"
"Nothing, Captain Jack. I've got pills to cure melancholy; but for love,well, I never had it myself, so I shouldn't know what to do. But--mayyou be happy."
It was very dark that night when the _Tonneraire_ stole silently back.She hauled her main-yard aback, and five armed boats, under command ofTom, were despatched to cut the saucy Frenchman out. The oars weremuffled, and there was not a glimmer of light permitted to shineanywhere about the ship.
The captain of marines and Murray both went in different boats, and onthis occasion M'Hearty himself. The great fellow said he wanted tostretch his legs and swing his arms about a bit.
"Don't get shot, anyhow, doctor," said Jack.
"My clear Captain Mackenzie, I'm positively bulletproof."
Young Murray was in high glee. He put on white gloves for the occasion.M'Hearty left his sword on board, and his coat and hat, and positivelyentered the boat bareheaded, in his shirt sleeves, and armed with acutlass.
"Nobody will see me," he said to Jack.
"I'll be bound they'll feel you," laughed the captain of marines.
This was as pretty a cutting-out action as ever I have heard of.
Feeling sure of their safety, the Frenchmen were careless in theirwatch. The officers were wining and playing cards down below, whensuddenly there was a shout, and a rattle and bump and rush. Hardly hadthe bugle, that awakened echoes from the walls of the fort, sung out tosummon the crew to repel boarders, ere our fine fellows were on board.Stern was the resistance made, however, to the British tars. BigM'Hearty had boarded on the port-bow, and came flailing away aft. Heknew nothing of sword-exercise, but simply grasped the cutlass, a hugeone, by both hands, and hammered away in old Highland fashion. But aFrenchman fell at every blow.
Murray fought like a little lion, but was knocked under a gun, and laylike a dead thing till all the fight was over, and long after.
Yes, they were victorious.
"Better go back to your cards and wine," shouted M'Hearty, as he drovethe last officer down below.
Meanwhile, will it be believed, the fort opened fire on their own brig.
Tom caused every light at once to be extinguished. Then sail was set,and though the brig was struck over and over with round shot, again theymanaged to cut her out. As she got fairly under way, our fellowsreturned a cheer of defiance to the fort, and just one gun was fired byway of farewell.
The capture had not been without mishap. Two of our men were killedoutright, and about ten, including Murray, were wounded.
At first it was thought the sprightly young officer was dead, but soonafter being carried on board his own ship, he opened his eyes, staredwildly around him for a few moments, then sank again into insensibility.He had been merely stunned.
This made the third time Murray had come to grief in action.
"It was always the same," he said, "even when I was a little fellow; Inever could fight without getting a bad black eye. Just my luck."
The brig was manned by a prize crew, half the Froggies, as our Jackscarelessly called them, being taken on board the man-o'-war. These werestarted for England a day or two afterwards, in a gun-brig of ours whichwas fallen in with homeward bound.
The _Ferdinand_ was sent home, a midshipman being in charge as captain,and a happy lad was he. But long before he reached England this samegun-brig was recaptured by the French, and this same middy, prize crewand all, made prisoners. He was not so happy then! only this is thefortune of war.
Jack Mackenzie used to boast that the _Tonneraire_ carried the smartestlot of midshipmen that the service could boast of. They were indeed afine lot, not midship_mites_ but midship_men_; for some indeed hadbeen, for acts of valour, promoted from gunners or boatswains.
It needed all their strength and courage to fight the battle I shall nowbriefly describe.
Everything, it is said, is fair in love and war. I do not know about thelove, but I am certain about the war. It is the aim and object of anyone nation carrying on war with another, not only to destroy thewar-ships of the enemy, but to sink and burn her vessels of commercewherever found. In this memorable cruise of Jack Mackenzie's, then, hewas ever on the outlook for a sail or sails. The _Tonneraire_ was asfleet as the wind. If, then, a man-o'-war, French or Spanish, was fallenin with, unless the odds seemed out of all proportion against him, Jackfought her. If she was too big he performed a strategic retreat; well,in plainer language, he ran away.
But he used to send boats in and around the numerous islands on thecoast of France to reconnoitre, and frequently they found somethinglying at anchor worth attacking. When, one forenoon, Tom Fairliereturned and reported a whole convoy of merchantmen lying at anchorunder the protection of a frigate and the forts between the island ofN---- and the mainland, Jack at once held a council of war, andit was resolved to attack after nightfall. On this occasion all theboats save one were needed, and the little expedition consisted of sevenofficers, over one hundred Seamen, and fifty marines.
As usual, the boarding took place after dark. I need not describe thefight; it was fierce, brief, and terrible, but finally the frigate wascaptured.
At this time very little wind was blowing, and a half-moon in the skyshed a sad but uncertain light upon the blood-slippery decks.
And now a council of war was held to consider what had best be done. Thedestruction of the fleet of fifteen merchantmen, who as the tide wasrunning out had grounded in shallow water, was imperative. It wasdetermined
, therefore, to leave a sufficient force of men on board thecaptured vessel, in case of an attempt on the part of the foe to regaintheir ship, and to proceed forthwith to burn the fleet. Tom Fairlie leftfour of his sturdiest mids and eighty men on board the frigate, and thenleft her. In less than half-an-hour every one of the merchantmen waswell a-lit, the crews having already escaped in their boats.
It was a strange and appalling sight. The flames were red and lurid, thegreen hills, the dark rocks, and the sands were lit up with a brilliancyas of noonday, while the rolling clouds of smoke, laden as thickly withsparks as the sky in a snowstorm, were carried far away southwards andseaward. But the light was dazzling, confusing; and before the boldsailors knew which way to steer, they ran aground. The tide, in tenminutes' time, left them high and dry.
Guns from the forts, too, began to roar out; and to add to the terror ofthe situation, a company of soldiers was drawn up on the beach, andTom's men began to fall, uncertain though their fire was.
It was a trying situation; but Tom Fairlie was as cool as an oldgeneral. He descried that troops of marines, hundreds in fact, werebeing poured into the frigate, and that she seemed already recaptured.He resolved, therefore, to desert his boats and cross the bay, where laya craft which could contain all his men.
This was done at extraordinary hazard, Tom's men, though bearing theirwounded with them, keeping up a running fire till the craft was reached.Luckily the soldiers had retired, but it took his men half-an-hour toget the little schooner into deep water.
It was a sad though heroic story that Tom Fairlie had to tell when inthe gray dawn of that summer's morning he rejoined his ship.
Jack now made all sail southwards, to report proceedings to his admiral.
He was welcomed most kindly; and although he half expected a reprimandfor losing so many boats and so many men, he received nothing but praisefor his gallantry, and a special despatch was sent home descriptive ofthe whole cruise of the _Tonneraire_.
"We cannot expect to fight without losses," said the good admiralwarmly; "and I am always pleased when my officers do their duty, as youand your brave associates have done yours."
Jack's face glowed with shy pride. It was so delightful to be thustalked to that his eyes filled with tears.
The _Tonneraire_ got more boats, and was soon again on the war-path; butsomehow everybody in the mess, and even the sailors forward, sadlymissed the merry, laughing face of young Murray, for the boy was amongthe captured.
Would he ever come again?