Page 11 of Paul Gerrard, the Cabin Boy

  CHAPTER ELEVEN.

  The bold often succeed where the timid fail. The young midshipmen andtheir companion, nothing daunted by the dangers which surrounded them,kept on their course. The flames quickly ascending to the top of theold tower, sent their ruddy glare far across the ocean; and as theirlight fell on the adventurers and their little craft, it occurred toPaul that their strange, unseamanlike costume would at once betray them.

  "The chances are that the Frenchmen have left some jackets in theafter-cabin," he observed; and as he spoke, jumping below, he soonreturned with several garments and hats, with which they quickly dressedthemselves.

  "Now we look pretty decent mounseers," observed Reuben, as he eased offthe main-sheet a little. "If we're hailed, you'll have to tell 'em,Paul--I mean Mr Gerrard--beg pardon--that we're bound for Cherbourg,and don't like to lose the breeze. It's coming pretty strongish, and ifI could but find a squaresail, for I sees there's a squaresail boom,we'd make the little craft walk along."

  Reuben was in high spirits, and indeed so were the midshipmen, at theirhazardous enterprise having thus far succeeded. Still they were not outof danger. If it was believed that they had been burnt in the tower,they would not be pursued, unless the owners of the sloop or theremainder of her crew on shore should catch sight of her sailing away.There were still several vessels to pass; but they intended to give themas wide a berth as possible. O'Grady was at the helm. Paul and Reubenwere removing the main-hatch in hopes of finding the squaresail, when acry from O'Grady made them jump up, and they saw the head of theFrenchman, with his mouth open, as if about to shout out, rising abovethe covering of the forehatch. An Englishman generally carries a weaponready for immediate use, which at the end of a stout arm is of asomewhat formidable character--his fist. Reuben with his dealt theFrenchman a blow which stopped his shout, knocked three of his teethdown his throat, and sent him toppling over into the fore-peak, fromwhich he had emerged; he, Reuben, and Paul following so rapidly, thatthe boy, who had been capsized by his companion, had not time to pickhimself up. They this time took good care so to secure both theirprisoners, that there was very little fear of their escaping, as the manhad done before by expanding the muscles of his legs and arms whileReuben was securing him.

  "Please tell them, Mr Gerrard, that if they cry out or attempt to playany more tricks, we must shoot them," said Reuben. "And now we'll goand look for the squaresail."

  The sail was found and bent on, and, Paul going to the helm, O'Grady andReuben managed to set it. The vessel felt the effects of the additionalcanvas, as she drew out more from the land, and rapidly glided past thedifferent vessels in the roadstead. There were only two more. One ofthese, however, they were compelled to pass uncomfortably near.

  "When we are clear of her, we shall be all right," said O'Grady, lookingback, and seeing nothing following. "She looks like an armed vessel--aman-of-war perhaps; but it won't do to go out of our course; we mustchance it."

  They stood on. Although they were now some distance from the land, theold tower continued blazing up so fiercely, that a strong light wasstill thrown on their canvas. Being between the suspicious vessel andthe light, they were abreast of her before they were seen. Just then ahail came from her, demanding who they were, and where they were bound.

  "Answer, Gerrard, answer!" cried O'Grady.

  But he did not tell him what to say; so Paul put up his hands andshouted, "Oui, oui; toute vite!" with all his might.

  "Heave-to," shouted the voice, "and we will send a boat aboard you."

  "Very likely," said Paul; and so he only cried out as before, "Oui, oui,to-morrow morning, or the day after, if you please!"

  As a vessel running before the wind cannot heave-to at a moment'snotice, the sloop got on some little distance before any attempt wasmade to impede her progress. Another hail was heard, and after thedelay of nearly another minute, there was a flash from one of thestranger's ports, and a shot came whizzing by a few feet astern.

  "If any of us are killed, let the others hold on to the last," criedO'Grady. "We are suspected, at all events, and may have a near squeakfor it."

  Reuben, the moment the first shot was fired, jumped down into the hold--not to avoid another; no fear of that. Directly afterwards he shoutedout, "I have found the square-topsail. Lend a hand, Paul, and we'll getit up."

  The square-top-sail was got up, rapidly bent on to the yard, and inanother minute or two hoisted and set. The man-of-war meantime keptfiring away; her shots falling on either side of the little vessel; butas she was riding head to wind, it was evident that only her sternchasers could be brought to bear.

  "I wonder that she does not follow us," observed Paul, as the shotsbegan to fall wider and wider of their mark.

  "Perhaps most of her crew are on shore, or we are thought too small gameto make it worth while to get under weigh for," answered O'Grady."However, don't let us be too sure; perhaps she will come, after all.We've got a good start of her though."

  "The mounseers are generally a long time getting under weigh, and to mymind they don't know what to make of us," observed Reuben, as he eyedthe Frenchman with no loving glance.

  The breeze continued freshening, and the little craft, evidently aremarkably fast one, flew bravely over the water, increasing herdistance from the French shore, and from the light of the burning tower.As the night was very dark, there was yet a chance of her escaping inthe obscurity. The adventurers were already congratulating themselveson having got free, when Reuben exclaimed, "The Frenchman thinks more ofus than we hoped. He's making sail."

  A sailor's eyes alone, and these of the sharpest, could have discoveredthis disagreeable fact; and even Paul could distinguish nothing but thedark outline of the coast. Reuben kept his eye on the enemy.

  "I doubt if she can see us," he observed. "And if she doesn't, we maystill give her the go-by. I'd haul up a little to the eastward, MrO'Grady, sir. The tide will be making down soon, and we shall justcheck it across. She'll walk along all the faster, too, with the windon the starboard-quarter, and no risk of jibing. We'll take a pull atthe main-sheet, Mr Gerrard. Now we'll ease off the squaresail sheet.That'll do, sir. Now the sail stands beautifully."

  O'Grady wisely followed Reuben's advice, and took no notice of his doingthings which were so clearly right without orders.

  The sloop was now steering about north-east by north, and should theFrenchman stand a little to the westward of north, the two vessels wouldsoon be out of sight of each other. Reuben declared that he could stillsee the enemy now making all sail in chase, but could not tell exactlyhow she was standing. It was anxious work. O'Grady made her out, aswell as Reuben, and all hoped devoutly that she was a slow sailer. Theykept the little vessel on a steady course, and for an hour or morescarcely a word was uttered. Sometimes Reuben lost sight of the enemy;but before long she was again seen. It proved that she did not sailvery fast, and that the course they had taken was suspected. Thus hourafter hour they stood on, till dawn began to break.

  "It's all up with us if she sees us now," cried O'Grady. "But I vote wedie game any how, and not give in while there's one of us alive to steerthe craft."

  The increasing daylight soon revealed them to the Frenchman, who at oncebegan blazing away in a manner which showed that the long chase they hadgiven him had made him not a little angry. The shot, however, fellshort; but he on this made more sail, and soon gained on them. Heceased firing for half an hour or more, and then again began, the shotflying by on either side, or over the mast-head. They came, indeed,much too near to be pleasant. Reuben took the helm, and the twomidshipmen stood facing their enemy, knowing that any moment might betheir last; still, however, as resolved as at first not to yield. Inanother twenty minutes or half an hour they must be killed or prisoners;escape seemed out of the question.

  "I wish that I could let my father, and mother, and brothers, andsisters at Ballyshannon know what has become of me," said Paddy, with asigh.

  "And I wis
h that I could have again seen my dear mamma," said Paul, "andmy sweet sister Mary, and jolly old Fred, and Sarah, and John, andpretty little Ann. They know that I am a midshipman, and I suppose thatthat will be some consolation to them if they ever hear that I've beenkilled."

  "Don't talk like that, young gentlemen. Look there. What do you say tothat?" exclaimed Reuben, pointing to the north-west, where standingtowards them, close-hauled, and evidently attracted by the firing, was alarge, ship, the beams of the rising sun shining brightly on herwide-spread canvas.

  "The enemy must see her, but fancy that she is French," observed Reuben."But they are greatly mistaken, let me tell them."

  "Hurrah! they've found out that they're wrong, then," cried O'Grady.

  As he spoke, down came the Frenchman's studden sails, and with a fewparting shots, which narrowly missed their mark, he hauled his wind, andstood close-hauled towards the coast of France. He sailed badly beforethe wind; he sailed worse close-hauled. The stranger, which soon provedto be an English frigate, her ensign blowing out at her peak, camerapidly up. The adventurers cheered as she passed, and received a cheerin return. Those on board evidently understood the true state of thecase.

  "Why, I do believe that is Devereux himself!" cried Paul, in a tone ofdelight.

  "Well, it is difficult to be certain of a person at such a distance; butit is very like him," said O'Grady. "But, again, how could he be there?He could not have made his escape from prison."

  The sloop hove to in order to watch the chase, which was soonterminated, for the frigate came up hand over hand with the slow-sailingbrig, which found to her cost that instead of catching a prize she hadcaught a Tartar. The midshipmen consulted together whether it would bewiser to continue their course for the Isle of Wight, or to get on boardthe frigate. But as the Channel swarmed with the cruisers of the enemy,they decided to do the latter; and accordingly, when they saw thefrigate returning with her prize, they stood towards her. They weresoon up to her, and, a boat being sent to them, as they stepped up herside the first person they encountered was Devereux.

  "Why, old fellows, where have you come from in that curious guise?" heexclaimed, as he warmly wrung their hands.

  "Oh, we ran away, and have been running ever since, barring some fewweeks we spent shut up in an old castle and a tumble-down tower,"answered O'Grady.

  "And the captain, and I, and a few others, were exchanged two weeks agofor a lot of French midshipmen without any trouble whatever."

  "As to that, now we are free, I don't care a rope-yarn for all thetrouble we have had, nor if we had had ten times as much. But we oughtto report ourselves to the captain; and we think--that is, Gerrarddoes--that we ought to let our prisoners take back the sloop which weran away with."

  "I agree with Gerrard, and so I am sure will the captain," saidDevereux.

  The frigate on board which the three adventurers so unexpectedly andhappily found themselves was the _Proserpine_, Captain Percy, offorty-two guns. As she was on her trial cruise, having only just beenfitted out, she was short of midshipmen, and Captain Percy offered togive both O'Grady and Paul a rating on board if Reuben would enter.This he willingly did, and they thus found themselves belonging to theship. The occupants of the berth received them both very cordially, andpaid especial attention to Paul, of whom Devereux had spoken to them inthe warmest terms of praise. The surprise of the Frenchman and boy onboard the sloop was very great, when Paul and Reuben, accompanied bysome prisoners from the prize, appeared and released them; and when Paultold them that they might return home, and that some countrymen had cometo help them navigate the ship, to express his joy and gratitude, hewould have kissed them both had they allowed him; and he seemed at aloss how otherwise to show it, except by skipping and jumping about, onhis deck. When he shortly afterwards passed the _Proserpine_, he andhis companions waved their hats, and attempted to raise a cheer; but itsounded very weak and empty, or, as Reuben observed to one of his newshipmates, "It was no more like a British cheer than the squeak of ayoung porker is to a boatswain's whistle."

  The prize thus easily gained was sent into Portsmouth, and the_Proserpine_ continued her cruise. O'Grady and Paul would have liked tohave gone in her; but they thought it better to wait till the frigateherself returned to port, when they might get leave to go home and visittheir friends, and perhaps take a little prize-money with them to makeup for what they had lost. They easily got a temporary rig-out onboard, so that there was no absolute necessity for their going. Paulhad hitherto, young as he was, held up manfully in spite of all thefatigue and anxiety he had gone through; but no sooner had the prizedisappeared, than his strength and spirits seemed to give way. He keptin the berth for a day or two; but could scarcely crawl on deck, whenDevereux reporting his condition to the surgeon, he was placed in thesick list. Both his old shipmates, Devereux and O'Grady, attended himwith the fondest care, and he would have discovered, had he possessedsufficient consciousness, how completely he had wound himself roundtheir hearts. He had done so, not by being proud, or boastful, orself-opinionated, or by paying them court, by any readiness to takeoffence, or by flattery, or by any other mean device, but by his braveryand honesty, by his gentleness and liveliness, by his readiness tooblige, and general good-nature and uprightness, and by being true tohimself and true to others--doing to them as he would be done by. Theybecame at last very sad--that is to say, as sad as midshipmen in adashing frigate, with a good captain, can become during war time; forthey thought that Paul was going to die, and the surgeon gave them nohopes. No one, however, was more sad than Reuben, who for many a watchbelow, when he ought to have been in his own hammock, sat by the side ofhis cot, administering the medicines left by the doctor, and tending himwith all a woman's care and tenderness. The thoughts of his friendswere for a time, however, called off from Paul by an event which broughtall hands on deck--the appearance of a strange sail, pronounced to be aFrench frigate equal in size to the _Proserpine_. All sail was made inchase. The ship was cleared for action, and Paul with other sick wascarried into the cockpit to be out of the way of shot. The gunner wentto the magazine to send up powder; the carpenter and his mates to thewings, with plugs, to stop any shot-holes between wind and water; andthe various other officers, commissioned and warrant, repaired to theirrespective posts. Paul had sufficiently recovered to know what wasabout to take place, and to wish to be on deck.

  "Couldn't you let me go, doctor--only just while the action is goingon?" he murmured out. "I'll come back, and go to bed, and do all youtell me--indeed I will."

  "I am sorry to say that you could be of no use, my brave boy, and wouldcertainly injure yourself very much; so you must stay where you are,"answered the surgeon, who was busy in getting out the implements of hiscalling. "You will have many opportunities of fighting and taking otherprizes besides the one which will, I hope, soon be ours."

  The remarks of the surgeon were soon cut short by the loud roar of theguns overhead, as the frigate opened her fire on the enemy. Thenspeedily came the crashing sound of the return shot, as they torethrough the stout planks, and split asunder even the oaken timbers. Itwas evident that the two ships were very close together by the loudsound of the enemy's guns and the effects of his shot. Not many minuteshad passed since the firing commenced, when steps were heard descendingthe ladder, and first one wounded man, and then another, and another,was brought below and placed before the surgeon. He had scarcely begunto examine their wounds, when more poor fellows were brought below badlywounded.

  "Ah! sir," said one of the seamen who bore them, as he was hurryingagain on deck, in answer to a question from the surgeon, "there are manymore than these down for whom you could do nothing."

  "What, is the day going against us?" asked the surgeon.

  "No, sir; I hope not. But the enemy is a big one, and will require amighty deal of hammering before she gives in."

  Paul looked out; but he soon closed his eyes, and he would gladly haveclosed his ears to the shrieks
and groans of anguish which assailedthem, while the poor fellows were under the hands of the surgeons, orwaiting their turn to have their wounds dressed, or their limbsamputated. Paul was more particularly anxious about his old friends;and whenever anybody was brought near him, he inquired after them. Thereport was, from those who had seen them, that they were at their postsas yet unhurt. Again he waited. Now there was a cessation of firing.Once more it was renewed, and the wounded were brought down in evenstill greater numbers than at first. Paul's spirits fell very low. Hehad never felt so miserable, and so full of dread. What, if after allthe _Proserpine_ should be overmatched, and he and his companions againfall into the hands of the French, or should perhaps Devereux, orO'Grady, or his firm friend Reuben Cole, be killed! Suddenly heremembered what his mother often had told him, that in all troubles anddifficulties he should pray; and so he hid his face in the pillow, andprayed that his countrymen might come off victorious, and that the livesof his friends might be preserved. By the time he had ceased his fearshad vanished; his spirits rose. He had done all he could do, and theresult he knew was in the hands of Him who rules the world. Still thebattle raged. He heard remarks made by the wounded, by which he guessedthat the enemy was indeed vastly superior, and that many a man, if notpossessed of an indomitable spirit, would have yielded long ago; butthat their captain would fight on till the ship sunk beneath his feet,or till not a man remained to work the guns. Several officers wereamong the badly wounded, and many were reported to be killed. At lengththere was a cry of grief, and their brave captain himself was broughtbelow. Still the first-lieutenant remained to fight the ship, and hiscaptain's last order to him was never to yield while the remotest hopeof victory remained.

  "Am I likely to survive?" asked the captain of the surgeon, after hiswound had been examined.

  "It is possible, sir; but I will not disguise from you that your woundis dangerous," was the answer.

  "I should be resigned," said the captain, "could I know that the victorywould be ours."

  At that instant the sound of cheering came down into the cockpit. Thecaptain heard it, and lifted up his head with a look of intenseeagerness. Directly afterwards an officer appeared. His head was boundup, and his coat at the shoulder was torn and bloody. It was Devereux.

  "The enemy has sheered off, sir, and is making all sail to thesouthward," he exclaimed, in a hurried tone. "We are unable to follow,for our fore-top-mast and main-mast are gone, and the fore-mast andmizen-mast, until they are fished, cannot carry sail."

  "Thank heaven! thank heaven!" whispered the captain, falling back. Thesurgeon, whom he had sent to attend to others worse wounded thanhimself, as he thought, hurried back to him with a restorative cordial;but he shook his head as he vainly put it to his mouth: it was too late.In the moment of victory the gallant spirit of the captain haddeparted. The enemy with which the _Proserpine_ had for so long thusnobly sustained this fierce engagement, was a 74-gun ship, more thanhalf as large again as she was, and having on board nearly twice as manymen. The sea was fortunately calm, and the masts being fished, sail wasmade, and in two days the frigate reached Portsmouth. As she hadsuffered much in the action, she required extensive repairs; and thesick and wounded were sent on shore to the hospital. In the list of theformer was Paul; in the latter, Devereux. Paul still continued veryweak and ill. Devereux was not dangerously hurt; but the surgeons wouldnot allow him to travel to go to his friends, and they showed nodisposition to come to him. Paul was too weak to write home himself,but he had got Devereux to do so for him, making, however, as light ashe could of his illness.

  Two days had scarcely elapsed, when they were told that a young lady wasbelow, waiting to see Mr Gerrard.

  "It must be my dear sister Mary," whispered Paul. "Oh, do go and seeher before she comes here, Devereux, and tell her how ill I am, andprepare her for the sort of place she is to come to."

  Hospitals in those days, especially in the war time, were verydifferently arranged to what they are now, when every attention is paidto the comfort and convenience of the patients. At that time, even inthe best regulated, were sights, smells, and sounds, trying to thesensibilities even of ordinary persons, but especially so to those of ayoung lady brought up in the quiet and retirement of a rural village;but Mary Gerrard, who now entered the Portsmouth hospital, escorted byDevereux, had at that moment but one feeling, one thought--an earnestdesire to reach the bedside of her brave young brother, who she thoughtwas dying. After the first greetings were over, Paul, seeing her lookvery sad, entreated her not to grieve, as he was sure that he should getwell and go home and see them all.

  She prayed he might, and so did Devereux, though from what the doctorsaid, there could be little doubt that he was very ill. Mary did nottell him that his dear mother was very ill also, being sure that theknowledge of this would agitate him, and retard, if it did not prevent,his recovery. She entreated that she might remain night and day withher brother; but this was not allowed, and so she was obliged to takelodgings near at hand, where she remained at night when turned out ofthe hospital. Devereux, however, comforted her by promising that hewould sit up as long as he was allowed with his friend, while O'Gradyand Reuben Cole came on shore and assisted in nursing him; so that Paulwas not so badly off after all. The consequence was, that in spite ofthe doctor's prognostications, Paul rapidly improved. As soon as he wasin a fit condition to be moved, he was conveyed to some nice airylodgings Mary had engaged; and here Devereux, who was also recoveringfrom his wounds, and allowed to go out, was a constant visitor, that isto say, he came early in the morning, and stayed all day. He came atfirst for Paul's sake; but it might have been suspected that he now camefor the sake of somebody else. He was no longer a midshipman, for hehad received his commission as lieutenant soon after landing,provisionally on his passing the usual examination, in consequence ofthe action in which he had taken part, when he had acted as second incommand, all the other officers being killed or wounded. Mary could notfail to like him, and although she knew the whole history of thedisastrous lawsuit between her father and the Devereux family, she hadnever supposed that he belonged to them in any way.

  It did not occur to Paul that his friend and his sister were becomingsincerely and deeply attached to each other. He asked Devereux one daywhy, now that he was strong enough, he did not go home to see hisfriends.

  "Do you wish me gone?" asked Devereux.

  "No, indeed, I do not," answered Paul; "but it surprised me that youshould not be anxious to go and see them."

  "Did they show any anxiety to come and see me, when they supposed I waswounded and ill, and perhaps dying?" he asked, in an animated tone."No, Paul; but there is one who did come to see my best friend, whosaved my life, and watched over me with more than the tenderness of abrother when I was sick, and for that person I have conceived anaffection which I believe will only end with my life."

  "Who can you mean, Devereux?" asked Paul, in a tone of surprise.

  "Why, who but your sister Mary!" exclaimed Devereux. "Do you think thatI could have spent so many days with her, and seen her tending on youlike an angel of light, as she is, and not love her with all my heart?"

  "Oh, my dear Devereux, I cannot tell you how I feel about it," saidPaul, warmly taking his hand; "though I am sure Mary does not know thatyou belong to that family we all fancy have treated us so ill; yet, whenshe does come to know it, as she ought to know, still I do not thinkthat it will bias her in her sentiments towards you. When she knowsthat you love her, I am sure that she must love you."

  "Thank you, Paul; thank you, my dear fellow, for saying that. Then Iwill tell her at once," said Devereux.

  And so he did; and Mary confessed that Paul was not far wrong in hisconjectures.

  It had, curiously enough, never occurred to her to what family Devereuxbelonged, and when she heard, she naturally hesitated about allyingherself to people who, if they could not despise, would assuredlydislike her. Devereux, however, overcame all her scruple
s, which is notsurprising, considering that he was scarcely twenty-one, and she wasonly nineteen.

  When Paddy O'Grady heard of the arrangement he was delighted.

  "All right, my dear fellow," he exclaimed. "When you marry MaryGerrard, I'll run over to France and pop the question to little RosalieMontauban, and bring her back to live in some snug box of a cottage I'lltake near you. Won't it be charming?"

  Midshipmen, when they think of marrying, always think of living in asnug little box of a cottage, just big enough for themselves, forgettingthat they may wish for servants, and may some day expand somewhat invarious ways.

  Devereux ventured to suggest that Miss Rosalie might not be as willingto come away as O'Grady supposed, at which Paddy became very irate, themore so, that some such idea might possibly have been lurking within hisown bosom. However, as the war was not over, and might not be for sometime, he could not go just: then.

  Paul was now sufficiently recovered to be moved, and Devereux got leaveto help Mary in taking him home. They were also accompanied by ReubenCole. Mrs Gerrard had begun to recover from the day that she heardPaul was out of all danger. She joyfully and proudly received them ather neat and pretty, though small cottage; and from the day of hisarrival Devereux found himself treated as a son. Devereux had admiredMary watching over her sick brother. He admired her still more whenaffectionately tending on her mother, and surrounded by her youngerbrothers and sisters. Paul was made so much of that he ran a greatchance of being spoilt. He had to put on his uniform, and exhibithimself to all the neighbourhood as the lad who had gone away as a poorship-boy, and come back home as a full-blown midshipman. At last, oneday Devereux received a letter from his home, suggesting that as he wasin England he might possibly be disposed to pay them a visit. He went,though very reluctantly. He was greatly missed, not only by Paul andMary, but by all the younger Gerrards. Not ten days had elapsed when heagain made his appearance.

  "They have had enough of me," he said, as he entered laughing. "But,Mary, dear," he added, after he had gone the round of handshaking, and,it may be, with a kiss or two from the lady part of the family, "thebest news I have to tell you is that they will not oppose our marriage,if we will wait till I am made a commander, and then my father promisesme three hundred a year, which, with my pay, will be a great deal morethan we shall want. To be sure, I had to undertake to give up somethousands which might some day come to me; but it would not be for along time, at all events, and, in my opinion, perhaps never; and I wasdetermined not to risk the danger of losing you for money, or any othercause."

  "Oh, my dear Gilbert! and have you sacrificed your fortune and yourfuture prospects for my sake?" said Mary, her eye's filling with tears;and yet not looking, after all, as if she was very sorry.

  "No, no! not in the slightest degree. I have laid them out, as amerchant would say, to the very best advantage, by securing what I knowwill tend to my very great and continued happiness," answered GilbertDevereux, adding--

  But never mind what he said or did after that. Certain it is, Mary madeno further objections, and Mary and he were regularly betrothed, whichis a very pleasant state of existence, provided people may hope to marrybefore very long, and expect, when they do marry, to have something tolive on.

  Soon after this Gilbert Devereux went to Portsmouth to pass hisexamination, and came back a full-blown lieutenant, with an epaulette onhis left shoulder, which, when he put on his uniform, was very muchadmired.

  Paul awoke very early the morning after Devereux had returned, in thesame little room in which he slept before he went to sea, and which hehad so often pictured to his mind's eye as he lay in his hammock tossedby the stormy sea. A stout sea-chest stood open in the room, and overit was hung a new uniform with brass buttons; a bright quadrant, andspy-glass, and dirk, and gold-laced hat, lay on the table, and the chestseemed filled to overflowing with the articles of a wardrobe, and avariety of little comforts which his fond mother and sisters, he wassure, had prepared for him. He turned round in his bed and gazed at thescene.

  "I have dreamed this dream before," he said to himself. "It was vividthen--it is vivid now; but I will not be deceived as I was then!--oh,how bitterly--No, no, it is a dream. I fear that it is all a dream!"

  But when the bright sunbeams came in and glittered on the quadrant andbuttons, and the brass of the telescope, and on the gold lace, and thehandle of the dirk, and the birds sang cheerily to greet the glorioussun, and the lowing of cows and the bleating of sheep was heard, and thecrack of a carter's whip, and his "gee up" sounded not far away fromunder the window, Paul rubbed his eyes again and again, and, with ashout of joy and thankfulness, exclaimed--

  "It is true! it is true! I really am a midshipman!"

  And when he knelt down to say his prayers, as all true honest Christianboys do, he thanked God fervently for having preserved him from so manydangers and granted him fully the utmost desire of his young heart.When Paul appeared at breakfast, did not his mother and brothers andsisters admire him, even more than they did Gilbert Devereux, except,perhaps, Mary; and she certainly did not say that she admired Paul less.They were a very happy party, and only wished that to-morrow would notcome. But such happiness to the brave men who fight Old England'sbattles, whether by sea or land, must, in war time at all events, be ofbrief duration. A long official-looking letter arrived for Devereux,and another of a less imposing character, from the first-lieutenant ofthe _Proserpine_, ordering Paul, if recovered, to join forthwith, as theship was ready for sea. The letter for Devereux contained hisappointment to the same ship, which was a great satisfaction to allconcerned.

  We will not describe what poor Mary felt or said. She well knew thatthe event was inevitable, and, like a true sensible girl, she nervedherself to endure it, though we dare say she did not fail to let Gilbertunderstand, to his satisfaction, how sorry she was to lose him. It is,indeed, cruel kindness to friends to let them suppose when parting fromthem that you do not care about them.

  Reuben Cole, who had spent his holiday in the village with his oldmother, and left her this time cash enough to make her comfortable,according to her notions, for many a day, came to the cottage to saythat his time was up. The three old shipmates therefore set offtogether for Portsmouth. On their arrival they found that Mr Order,who had been made a commander in the West Indies, and had latelyreceived his post rank, was appointed to command the _Proserpine_. The_Cerberus_ had arrived some time before, and several of her officers andmen had, in consequence of their regard for Captain Order, joined the_Proserpine_. Among them were Peter Bruff, still a mate, Tilly Blake,and old Croxton. The midshipmen's berth contained a merry party, someyoungsters who had come to sea for the first time, full of life andhope, and some oldsters who were well-nigh sick of it and of everythingelse in the world, and longed to have a leg or an arm shot away thatthey might obtain a berth at Greenwich, and have done with it. At thattime, however, there were not many of the latter sort.

  At first it was supposed that their destination was foreign; but whetherthey were to be sent to the North American station, to theMediterranean, to the Pacific, or to India, they could not ascertain; sothat it rather puzzled them to know what sort of stores they should layin, or with what style of garments they should provide themselves.However, on the morning they were to sail Captain Order received adispatch directing him to join the Channel fleet.

  "Do you know what that means?" asked Peter Bruff of the assembled mess."Why, I will tell you, boys, that we shall be attached to the blockadingsquadron off Brest, and that month after month, blow high or blow low,we shall have to kick our heels there till we have kicked holes inthem."

  Those present expressed great dissatisfaction at the prospect in view;but Devereux, when the subject was discussed in the gun-room, wassecretly very glad, because he hoped thus to hear more frequently fromMary, and to be able to write to her. His brother officers took up theidea that he was an author, from the sheets upon sheets of paper whichhe covered; but, as may b
e supposed, nothing could induce him to exhibitthe result of his labours. While others were weary; discontented, andgrumbling, he was always happy in the belief that Mary was alwaysthinking of him, as he was of her.

  Blockading is always disagreeable work, as there must be an everwatchful look-out, night and day, and ships are often kept till alltheir provisions are expended, or the ships themselves can stand thewear and tear no longer. The _Proserpine_ had, as was expected, plentyto do. Paul, though not finding it pleasant more than the rest, wassatisfied that it was calculated to give him ample experience inseamanship, and to make him the good officer he aspired to become.

  However, as disagreeable as well as agreeable times must come to an endsome time, if we will but wait that time, the _Proserpine_ was relievedat length, and returned to Portsmouth. She was not allowed to remainthere long, for as soon as she could be refitted, and had taken in afresh supply of provisions, wood, and water, she again put to sea tojoin a squadron in the North Seas. Winter came on, and as she lay inYarmouth Roads, directions were sent to Captain Order to prepare for thereception of an ambassador, or some other great man, who was to beconveyed to the Elbe, and landed at Cuxhaven, or any other place wherehe could be put on shore and make his way to his destination.

  It was early in February, but the weather was unusually fine, and offthe compact little island of Heligoland a signal was made for a pilot,who came on board and assured the captain that there was not theslightest difficulty in getting up the Elbe to Cuxhaven, if he would butproceed at between half-flood and half-ebb, when he could see the sandon either hand. All the buoys in the river had, however, been carriedaway, he observed, to prevent the enemy from getting up. With afavourable breeze the frigate stood up the river, guided by theexperienced pilot. While the weather continued fine, the task was oneof no great difficulty, though with a wintry wind blowing and thethermometer far down below the freezing-point, it was anything but apleasant one.

  "Faith, I'd rather be back stewing away among the niggers in the WestIndies, would not you, Gerrard?" exclaimed Paddy O'Grady, beating hishands against his sides to keep them warm.

  "I should not mind it for a change, if it was not to last long; but Iconfess I don't wish it to be colder," said Paul.

  "Why, lads, this is nothing to what I have had to go through in theNorth Seas," remarked Bruff. "I've known it so cold that every drop ofspray which came on board froze, and I've seen the whole deck, and everyspar and rope one mass of ice, so that there was no getting the ropes torun through the sheaves of the blocks, and as to furling sails, whichwere mere sheets of ice, that was next to an impossibility. I warn you,if you don't like what we have got now, you'll like still less what iscoming. There are some heavy snow-clouds driving up, and we shall havea shift of wind soon."

  The frigate had now got up to within four miles of Cuxhaven, when, atabout four o'clock, as the winter's day was closing in, it, as Bruff hadanticipated, came on to snow so thickly that the pilot could no longersee the marks, and it accordingly became necessary to anchor. Later inthe evening, when darkness had already set in, the wind shifted to thesouthward of east, and the snow fell with a density scarcely eversurpassed, as if the whole cloud mass of snow were descending bodily tothe earth. Added to this, the high wind drove the ice, which hadhitherto remained fixed to the shore, high up, directly down on theship, threatening every instant to cut her cables, when she must havebeen driven on shore and lost.

  "All hands on deck!" turned many a sleeper out of his hammock, where, ifnot warm, he was not so cold as elsewhere. All night long the crew wereon deck, fending off the ice, which in huge masses came drifting down onthem.

  "What do you think of this, Paddy?" asked Bruff.

  "Why, by my faith, that when a thing is bad we have good reason to bethankful that it's no worse," answered O'Grady. "Can anything be worsethan this?"

  "Yes, indeed, a great deal worse," said Bruff.

  The morning broke at length, and as it was evident that the ambassadorcould not be landed at Cuxhaven, it was necessary to get out of the Elbewithout delay, that he might be put on shore on the coast of Holstein,if possible.

  The wind blew as strong as ever--a severe gale; but, the snow ceasingpartially, the pilot was enabled to see the land. The ship stood onunder one sail only--the utmost she could carry--a fore-topmaststay-sail.

  "Hurrah! we shall soon be out of this trap, and once more in the opensea," exclaimed O'Grady. "So the pilot says."

  "Are we well clear of the outer bank?" asked the captain.

  The answer was in the affirmative; but it was scarcely given when theship struck heavily, and, her keel cutting the sand, she thus became, asit seemed, firmly fixed. Then arose the cry from many mouths--

  "We are lost! we are lost!"

  "Silence!" exclaimed Captain Order; "until every effort has been made toget her off, let no one under my command say that."

  CHAPTER TWELVE.

  When a captain finds his ship on shore, even though he is in no way toblame, he feels as did Captain Order, that a great misfortune hashappened to him. No sooner was the _Proserpine's_ way stopped, than theice drifting down the river began to collect round her. Still thecaptain did not despair of getting her off. The boats were hoisted outfor the purpose of carrying out an anchor to heave her off; but the icecame down so thickly with the ebb, which had begun to make, that theywere again hoisted in, and all hands were employed in shoring up theship to prevent her falling over on her side. Scarcely was this donewhen huge masses of ice came drifting down with fearful force directlyon the ship, carrying away the shores as if they were so many reeds, andtearing off large sheets of the copper from her counter.

  "I told you that matters might be worse. What do you think of the stateof things?" said Bruff to Paul.

  "That they are very bad; but I heard the captain say just now that hestill hopes to get off," answered Paul. "I suppose that he is right onthe principle Mr Devereux always advocates, `Never to give in while thetenth part of a chance remains.'"

  "Oh, Devereux is a fortunate man. He is a lieutenant, and will be acommander before long, and so looks on the bright side of everything,while I am still a wretched old mate, and have a right to expect theworst," answered Bruff, with some little bitterness in his tone. "Iought to have been promoted for that cutting-out affair."

  So he ought. Poor Bruff, once the most joyous and uncomplaining in themess, was becoming slightly acidulated by disappointment. He had goodreason on this occasion for taking a gloomy view of the state ofaffairs.

  The ice drove down in increasingly larger masses every instant. Onemass struck the rudder, and, though it was as strong as wood and ironcould make it, cut it in two, the lower part being thrown up by theconcussion on to the surface of the floe, where it lay under the stern,the floe itself remaining fixed in that position by the other masseswhich had collected round the ship.

  The ambassador and members of his suite looked uncomfortable, and madeinquiries as to the best means of leaving the ship; but she was CaptainOrder's first command, and he had no idea of giving her up withoutmaking a great effort for her preservation. At length came an orderwhich showed that matters were considered bad in the extreme:

  "Heave overboard the guns!"

  Rapidly the guns were run out, and, aided by crowbars, were forcedthrough the ports; but so strong was the ice that they failed to breakit, and lay on its surface round the ship. Mr Trunnion, the gunner,hurried about, assisting in the operation; but as each gun wentoverboard he gave a groan, and made a face as if, one by one, his ownteeth were being drawn.

  "Never mind, mate, the good ship holds together, and we'll get her off,I hope," observed the carpenter.

  "The ship! What's the value of her compared to the guns?" exclaimed thegunner, turning on his heel.

  The stores (to the purser's infinite grief) and water followed. Anchorsand cables were now carried out, and the ice astern with infinite labourwas broken away; but the efforts of the crew were in
vain, and the shipstill remained firmly fixed in her icy prison when night drew on.

  What a night was that! Down came the snow thicker than ever, the fiercewind howled and shrieked through the rigging, and when the ebb tidemade, the ice in huge masses came down, crashing with fearful forceagainst the sides of the frigate, mass rising above mass, till it seemedas if it were about to entomb her in a frozen mountain. The science andexperience of the oldest officers were set at nought, all the exertionsof the crew were unavailing; the wind increased, the snow fell thicker,and the ice accumulated more and more. The cold, too, was intense, andwith difficulty the men could face the freezing blast.

  Paul thought of how often he had heard people complaining of the heat ofthe West Indies, and now how glad would they have been to have obtainedsome of that caloric they were then so anxious to be rid of. Alreadythe masses of ice reached up to the cabin windows. A loud crack washeard. It came from the after part of the ship. The carpenter and hismates descended to ascertain the mischief. He soon returned with a longface and a look of alarm on his countenance, and, touching his hat tothe captain, reported that the stern port was broken in two, and partsof the stern stove in, so that there was small chance of the shipfloating, even should she be got off.

  "Well, well, Auger, keep up your spirits, man," observed Mr Grummit,the boatswain, to his brother warrant officer; "the masts are standing,and in spite of the gale the spars are uninjured, and you may manage,after all, to copper up the old barkie to get her out of this."

  "Ah, that's just like the way of the world, Grummit," said Trunnion."As long as your masts are standing, you don't care how much harmhappens to the hull under Auger's charge; and while the hull wasundamaged, Auger didn't care for my guns; but just let's see your mastsgoing over the side, and we should have you singing out as loudly as anyone--that we should, I know; and just you look out, they'll be goingbefore long."

  The indignant gunner turned away. It seemed very probable that hisprognostications would prove true, for already in all directions thegallant ship cracked and groaned as the ice pressed in from everyquarter on her stout timbers.

  Paul met Devereux, and asked him what he thought was going to happen.

  "One of two things, my dear Gerrard," answered the young lieutenant; "wemust either try to get on shore, or we must be ready to go down with theship, should the wind drift her out of her present position. I knowthat you will be prepared for whatever we are called to encounter; butwhatever occurs, keep near me. I shall not be happy if we areseparated."

  As Paul was in Devereux's watch, this he could easily promise to do.Hour after hour wore on. The cold increased. The weather gave no signsof mending. Death, in a form, though not the most terrible, yetcalculated to produce intense suffering, stared them in the face. Themen looked at each other, and asked what was next to happen. Thecaptain and most of his officers, and the ambassador, were inconsultation in the cabin. Many of the men believed that the shipherself could not much longer resist the violent pressure to which shewas exposed, and expected every instant that her sides would be crushedtogether.

  The calmest, as usual, was old Croxton, who had been actively goingabout his duty without making any demonstration.

  "Lads, just listen to me," he observed. "Some of you are proposing onething, and some another; but let me advise you to go on steadily doingyour duty, smartly obeying our officers, and leaving all the rest in thehands of Providence. It is the business of the officers to plan andcommand, and, depend on it, they'll order us to do what they believe tobe best."

  A few minutes afterwards the drum beat for divisions, and as soon as themen were mustered, the captain addressed them, and told them that, atthe desire of the ambassador, it had been resolved to abandon the ship.

  "At the same time, my lads, you will remember that while she holdstogether, you still belong to her," he added. "While, for your ownsakes, you will maintain that strict discipline which has done you somuch credit ever since I have had the satisfaction of commanding you."

  A hearty cheer was the answer to this address.

  The men were then directed to provide themselves each with a change ofclothing, and a supply of provisions for two days. All knew that theundertaking was perilous in the extreme. The nearest inhabited part ofthe small island of Newark was upwards of six miles distant. No oneknew exactly the direction. The snow continued to fall thickly, thecold was intense, and the wind blew fiercely, while it was possible thatthe ice might break away and carry them with it before they could gainthe land.

  They were to march in subdivisions, each under their respectiveofficers. With heavy hearts the officers and crew went down the side ofthe ship, and formed on the ice under her lee. The sick--fortunatelythere were very few--were supported by their comrades. There were somewomen and children; for them it was truly fearful work. The captain,having ascertained that no man was left on board, was the last to quitthe ship. He could not speak as he came down the side and took hisplace in the van. The order to advance was given. Slowly, with headsbent down against the freezing blast, the party worked their way. Insome places the tide or the wind had forced the water over the ice, andpools of half-frozen slush had been formed, through which they werecompelled to wade. In others they had to climb over the huge slabs ofice which had been thrown up in wild confusion. On they toiled,however, those who kept close together assisting each other; but some,alas! in the thick snow separated by the inequalities of the surfaceover which they travelled, sunk unseen, and not, in many cases, tilltheir comrades had advanced too far to render assistance, was theirabsence discovered. A poor boy--who, though somewhat weak and sickly,was a favourite with the men--was one of the first missed. He had beencomplaining of the cold, but had been encouraged to proceed by thosenear him.

  "Oh, let me just lie down and rest for a few moments, I am so weary, Iwill come on with the others," he murmured.

  "You will get no rest to do you good," was the answer. "Cheer up, cheerup, lad!"

  A friendly hand was stretched out to help him. For some way hestruggled on. Then there arose a huge pile of ice slabs, and he escapedfrom the friendly hand which held him.

  "Ah, now I will rest quietly," he thought, as he laid himself down on acrevice of the ice filled with snow.

  From that sleep he never awoke.

  Among the women, one toiled on with a child in her arms. Many of theseamen offered to carry it; but she would not part with her treasure.On and on she moved. Her words became wandering, then scarcelyarticulate. She ceased at length to speak. Still she advanced. Thesnow fell thicker. The road became more uneven. Each person had toexert himself to the utmost to preserve his own life. They thought notof the poor woman and her child till they discovered that she was notamong them. But not only did the weak sink down. Strong men in thesame way disappeared from among their comrades. No one at the timeexactly knew how. No one saw them fall. They were by the side of thosewho still walked on alive one moment, and the next they were gone.

  Paul kept near Devereux. They conversed together as much as they could,and often addressed words of encouragement to the men, who, though oftensinking, it appeared, with fatigue and cold, were revived, it seemed,and proceeded with as much spirit as at first.

  Paul himself at length began to grow very weary, and to long to lie downand rest.

  "If I could stop back for three minutes, I could easily run on and catchthem up," he thought to himself; yet he did not like to make theproposal to Devereux, who, he still had sense enough to believe, wouldnot agree to it.

  Poor Paul, was this to be the termination of all your aspirations fornaval glory, to sink down and die on a frozen sand-bank, within a fewmiles of a spot where you may obtain food, shelter, and warmth?

  "I can stand it no longer, I must rest," he said to himself. "There isa snug spot between two slabs of ice, quite an arm-chair. I must sit init, if only for two minutes."

  Devereux must have divined his thoughts, or probably obser
ved theirregular and faltering steps he was making, for, seizing him by thearm, he exclaimed, with judicious roughness--

  "Come, rouse up, Paul, my dear fellow! We must have none of this folly.I did not expect it from you."

  The words had their due effect. By a powerful effort Paul threw off hislethargy, and once more sprang on with the rest, continuing to talk andencourage his companions.

  Still no one could tell whether or not they should ever reach theirdestination. The snow fell thicker than ever, and not a windmill, aspire, or a willow, or any of the objects which adorn the shores of theElbe, could be seen to indicate that they were approaching the haunts ofmen. It was too evident that many of their number had passed from amongthem since they began their march, and no one could say who mightfollow. Many were complaining bitterly of the cold, and others hadceased to complain, as if no longer conscious of the effect it wasproducing.

  Suddenly there was a shout from those in advance. The rear rankshurried on. A house was seen, then another, and another. They were inthe middle of a village. Kind people came out of their houses toinquire what had occurred; and at once there was no lack of heartyinvitations, and the whole party were soon enjoying warmth, hot drinks,and dry clothing, which soon revived the greater number, though some whohad been frost-bitten required considerable attention before they wereset to rights.

  The next day the storm raged as furiously as before, and so it continuedfor nearly a week, and all had reason to be thankful that they hadreached a place of safety. At length, the weather moderating, andprovisions on the island growing very scarce, the ambassador and hissuite, and half of the ship's company, proceeded on, though not withoutgreat difficulty and hazard, to Cuxhaven, while the rest remained on theisland, in the hope of saving some of the ship's stores.

  Among the latter were Devereux, Paul, and O'Grady, with Reuben Cole.The next day they, with a party of men, volunteered to visit the wreck,to report on her condition, and to bring back some bread, of which theystood greatly in need. They succeeded in getting on board, and foundthe ship in even a worse condition than they had expected. She was onher beam ends, with upwards of seven feet of water in her, apparentlybroken asunder, the quarter-deck separated six feet from the gangway,and only kept together by the ice frozen round her. Their taskaccomplished, with a few articles of value and a supply of bread, theyreturned to the shore.

  Considering that the risk was very great, the captain decided that nofurther visits should be paid to the ship.

  However, one morning, the weather becoming very fine, it beingunderstood that the captain had not actually prohibited a visit to theship, Devereux, Paul, and O'Grady, with Cole and another man, set off topay, as they said, the old barkie a farewell visit. The captain, whowas ill in bed, only heard of their departure too late to recall them.The frost was so severe that the ice was well frozen, and thus they musthave got on board; but it was supposed that they had remained on boardtill the tide changing made their return impossible. They werelooked-for anxiously during the evening, but no tidings came of them.At night the wind again got up, and their shipmates, as they sat by thefires of their hospitable host, trembled for their safety. As soon asdaylight returned the greater number were on foot. Not a vestige of hercould be seen. The tide and wind rising together must have carried downthe masses of ice with terrific force, and completely swept her decks.

  When Captain Order heard of this, his feelings gave way. "To have lostmy ship was bad enough," he exclaimed; "but to lose so many fine youngfellows on a useless expedition is more than I can bear. It will be thecause of my death."

  The few officers who remained with the captain could offer noconsolation. The pilots and other people belonging to the place wereconsulted. They declared that from the condition of the ship when lastvisited, it was impossible that she could withstand the numerous massesof ice which during the past night must have, with terrific violence,been driven against her, that she had probably been cut down by degreesto the water's edge, and that thus the ice must have swept over her.They said that if even those on board had been able to launch a boat, noboat could have lived amid the floating ice; and that even, had sheescaped from the ice, she must have foundered in the chopping searunning at the mouth of the river. Probably, when the weather moderatedin the spring, portions of the wreck would be found thrown up on theshore, and that was all that would ever be known of her fate. Thecaptain, after waiting some days, and nothing being heard of the frigateor the lost officers and men, being sufficiently recovered, proceededwith the remainder of the crew to Cuxhaven.

  Devereux, Paul and O'Grady were general favourites, and their losscaused great sorrow among their surviving shipmates; but sailors,especially in those busy, stirring days, had little time for mourningfor those who had gone where they knew that they themselves might soonbe called on to follow. Some honest tears were shed to their memory,and the captain with a heavy heart wrote his despatches, giving anaccount of the loss of his ship, and of the subsequent misfortune bywhich the service had been deprived of so many gallant and promisingyoung officers. The ambassador and his suite had for some time beforetaken their departure, as the French were known to be advancingeastward, and might have, had they delayed, intercepted them. For thesame reason Captain Order and his officers and crew anxiously lookedforward to the arrival of a ship of war to take them away, as they didnot fancy finishing off their adventures by being made prisoners andmarched off to Verdun, or some other unpleasant place, where the Frenchat that time shut up their captives. At length a sloop of war arrived,and they reached England in safety. Captain Order and his officers hadto undergo a court-martial for the loss of the frigate, when they werenot only honourably acquitted, but were complimented on the admirablediscipline which had been maintained, and were at once turned over toanother frigate, the _Dido_, lately launched, and fitting with allpossible dispatch for sea.

  But there were sad hearts and weeping eyes in one humble home, where theloss of two deeply loved ones was mourned; and even in the paternal hallof O'Grady, and in the pretentious mansion of Devereux, sorrow wasexpressed, and some tears were shed for those who had thus early beencut off in their career of glory. We will not attempt to pry into thegrief which existed in Gerrard's home. It did not show itself by loudcries and lamentations, but it was very evident that from one heartthere all joyousness had for ever flown. Still Mary bore upwonderfully. All her attention seemed to be occupied in attending toher mother, who, already delicate, felt Paul's loss dreadfully. Heryoung brothers and sisters, too, required her care. As usual, shetaught them their lessons, made and mended their clothes, helped to cooktheir dinners, and attended them at their meals. None of these thingsdid she for a day leave undone, and even Sarah and John, whisperingtogether, agreed that Mary could not have cared so very much forGilbert, and still less for poor Paul.

  Some weeks passed on, when one day, when Mary was out marketing, MrsGerrard received a letter curiously marked over--not very clean, andwith a high postage. Fortunately she had just enough to pay for it.She read it more than once. "Poor, dear, sweet, good Mary!" sheexclaimed; "I almost fear to tell her; the revulsion may be too great.I know how much she has suffered, though others don't."

  A writer has a great advantage in being able to shift the scene, and togo backwards or forwards in time as he may find necessary. We must goback to that fine, bright, but bitterly cold morning when LieutenantDevereux and his companions set off to visit the frigate. They werestrong and hardy, had thick coats, and, besides, the exercise kept themwarm. The way was difficult, often through deep snow, into which theysank up to their middles. They looked in vain for trace of any of theirlost shipmates. They were already entombed beneath the glittering snow,not to be again seen till the warm sun of the spring should expose themto the gaze of passers by. They at length reached the ship, and climbedup through a main-deck port. How silent and melancholy seemed thedeserted ship, lately crowded with active busy human beings never moreagain destined to p
eople its decks.

  They looked into the cabins and selected a few articles they had beforeforgotten, taking some articles from the cabins of their messmates whichthey thought might be valued. On the main-deck the injuries which theship had received were not so apparent.

  "Would it be possible to save her?" exclaimed Devereux. "If she couldbe buoyed up with empty casks and got off into deep water, we mightpatch her up sufficiently to run her over to Yarmouth Roads. I wouldrather see her bones left there than here."

  "Anything you like I am ready for," said O'Grady, and Paul repeated thesentiment.

  "I do not mean to say that we can do it by ourselves; but if we can forma good plan to place before the captain, perhaps he will let us have therest of the people to carry it out," said Devereux. "However, before webegin, let us have some food. I am very hungry after our walk, and Idaresay you all are."

  All hands agreed to this; there was no lack of provisions. Some timewas occupied in the meal, and then they set to work to make theirsurvey. As they wished to be exact, and to ascertain the number ofcasks on which they could depend for floating the ship, the businessoccupied a longer time than they had expected. They had nearlycompleted their plans when Paul, looking through one of the ports, sawthe water rushing by with great rapidity, carrying with it large blocksof ice capable of overwhelming anybody they might have struck. The tidehad turned, it was too evident, some time, and their retreat to theshore was cut off. Paul reported the circumstance to Devereux. Therewas no doubt about the matter. They stood at the gangway gazing at theroaring torrent, full of masses of ice leaping over and grinding againsteach other. No one but a madman would have ventured to cross it. Itseemed doubtful if even a boat could live in such a turmoil of waters.If the flood ran up thus strong, what might be the effects of the ebb?It would not be low water again till past midnight, and it would then bevery dangerous, if not altogether impracticable, to get on shore. Theymust, therefore, make up their minds to remain on board till thefollowing day.

  "The old ship is not going to tumble to pieces just yet," said Devereux."We might have had worse quarters than she can still afford, so weshall have to turn into our berths and wait till the sun rises again."

  Whether the young lieutenant felt as confident as he expressed himselfmight have been doubted; but he was one of those wise people who alwaysmake the best of everything, carrying out practically the proverb "Whatcannot be cured must be endured." As they had plenty to do, and wereable to light a fire in the cabin stove and another in the galley tocook their supper, they passed their time not unpleasantly. Theirhabits of naval discipline would not allow them to dispense with awatch, so, while the rest turned in, one officer and one man at a timewalked the deck, though, as O'Grady remarked, "We are not likely to runfoul of anything, seeing that we are hard and fast aground, and nothingwill purposely run foul of us; and if anything does, it may, for wecan't get out of its way." Devereux took the dog watch, O'Grady was totake the first, and Paul the middle. Paul was not sorry to turn in, forhe was very tired. He had not slept, as he thought, when he feltO'Grady's hand on his shoulder, telling him that it was time to turnout.

  He was on deck in a minute, where he found O'Grady, who was waiting hiscoming. Just as O'Grady was going down, a loud, grating, crushing noiseassailed their ears. It was blowing very strong, and freezing extremelyhard. The night also was very dark, and occasionally heavy falls ofsnow came on, making the obscurity greater. The rushing noiseincreased. The tide they knew must have turned, and was now coming downwith terrific force.

  "I say, Gerrard, I doubt if Devereux's plan will succeed, if the icecontinues to come down in this fashion; more likely to cut the oldbarkie to pieces," observed O'Grady.

  "I am afraid so," said Paul; "I'll ask Cole what he thinks of the stateof affairs."

  Reuben was found, and confessed that he did not like them. The wind hadincreased to a fearful gale, which howled and whistled through theshrouds, and between the intervals of these gusts the roar of thedistant ocean could be heard, as the seas met together, or dashed inheavy rollers on the coast.

  While the midshipmen and Reuben were talking, they became conscious thatthe ship was moving; her deck rose and fell very slowly certainly, butthey felt the sensation of which perhaps only seamen could have beenaware that they were standing on a floating body. They instantly calledDevereux, and he was convinced of the awful fact that the frigate wasmoving. In her present condition she could not float long, and thoughthey might lower a boat, it was impossible that a boat could live amongthe masses of ice rushing by. Perhaps the frigate might ground again.They sounded the well; she had not made much water since they came onboard, so she might float for some time longer. Perhaps she was stillin shallow water, and just gliding over the bottom. A lead was foundand hove for soundings; but instead of striking the water, it came uponhard ice. The mystery was explained. The whole floe in which the shipwas embedded was floating away. There could be little doubt about that.But where was it driving to? That was the question. It might driveout to sea, and becoming broken by the force of the waves, allow theship to sink between its fragments. Still even then they might possiblybe able to escape in a boat. One was therefore cleared and got readyfor landing, and a supply of provisions, a compass, and water, wereplaced in her, with some spare cloaks and blankets to afford them aslight shield and protection from the inclemency of the weather. Afterthis they could do no more than pray that warning might be given them ofthe ship's sinking, and wait patiently for day.

  The cold was so intense that they would have been almost frozen to deathhad they not been able to keep up a fire in the cabin stove, round whichofficers and men now clustered. It might possibly be their last meetingon this side a watery grave, and yet they had all, young and old, beenso accustomed to face death, that they did not allow the anticipation ofit altogether to quench their spirits. They talked of the past and evenof the future, although fully aware that that future on earth might notbe for them.

  Day came at last, cold and grey. They looked out; they were, as theyhad conjectured, surrounded by a solid floe of ice--so thick that thereseemed little danger of its immediately breaking up. Beyond it was theleaden sea foaming and hissing--but, in spite of the gale, not breakingheavily, owing to the floes of ice floating about and the direction ofthe wind; while in the distance to the south, and on either hand, was alow line of coast, with islands here and there scattered now and then.

  The prospect was uninviting. The ship was driving out to sea, and couldnot then long hold together. O'Grady proposed making an attempt to gainthe shore in the boat; but Devereux pointed out the difficulty therewould be in making headway against the furious gale then blowing, inaddition to the risk of having the boat stove in by the ice.

  "No, no; let us stick to the ship as long as she keeps above water," headded.

  Of course all agreed that his decision was right. They were not idle,however. Paul suggested that if a boat could not live, a strong raftmight; and as soon as breakfast was over, they set to work to build one.As they had plenty of time and materials, they made it big enough andstrong enough to carry fifty men, and in the centre built a store-houseto hold provisions for several days. Fortunately the ice did not movevery fast; and before they had drifted far off the coast, the windshifted, and drove them along it at the same rate as before. Still itcontinued freezing hard. A rapid thaw they had most to fear, as itwould melt away the supporting floe, and let the ship sink. But thenthey might take to their boat. Had it not been for the anxiety theyfelt as to what might happen, they had no great cause to complain, asthey had shelter and firing, and were amply supplied with provisions,besides, as O'Grady observed, enjoying the advantage, when the raft wasfinished, of having nothing to do. The third night they had spent onboard came to a close. They kept a very strict watch, that should anychange occur, they might not be taken unawares. On looking out theyfound the land much nearer than before. This was accounted for, as thewind had
shifted, and now blew almost directly on shore.

  "Our voyage will come to an end sooner than we expected last night,"observed O'Grady. "For my part I am almost sorry; it's very good fun."

  "It will be no laughing matter, if the wind increases, and a heavy surfbreaks on the shore," said Devereux, who overheard the remark.

  The ship, still surrounded by its mass of ice, to which it acted as asail, drifted slowly, but steadily, towards the shore. The rate ofprogress was increased, however, before long by the rising wind, and thedeck of the ship, hitherto only gently undulating, began to be tossedabout with a motion more rapid than pleasant. As they drove on, theland opened out, and appeared on either hand; so that they found thatthey were at the entrance of an estuary, or the mouth of a wide river.But the sea rolled in very heavily, and they feared, if it increased,that the ice round the ship would break up. Still there would be amplewarning given, and they dreaded no immediate danger. The raft and boatwere both got ready. Should the ship sink, the former would in allprobability float, and afford them a refuge should the boat be unable tolive.

  "And now all our preparations are made, we'll pipe to dinner," saidDevereux.

  And the whole party sat down to a not unsubstantial meal round the cabinstove. Dinner was over. It had been somewhat prolonged, for there wasnothing to do, and they had been talking of by-gone days, and fightingtheir battles over again. It was time, however, to look out to see whatprogress they had been of late making. It was O'Grady's watch, and whenhe opened the cabin door to go out, he saw a mass of smoke eddying roundin the fore-part of the deck. His companions soon joined him toascertain beyond a doubt that the ship was on fire. It might still beovercome. But the fresh water had been started; there was only icealongside, and the pumps were choked. The party made a rush towards thefire, in the hopes of beating it out; but they were soon convinced thatit had gained hold of the ship, and that no efforts they could make toextinguish it would avail. How it had originated there was no time toconsider. Probably some coal jerked out of the galley-fire had foundits way below, and had ignited some of the stores. The flames now burstforth, and spread rapidly--bursting through the hatchways and ports, andsoon enveloping the whole of the fore-part of the ship. The party werenow exposed to even a more terrible danger than any they hadanticipated. Their raft would no longer avail them. Their entiredependence must be on their frail boat. Still till the last moment theywere unwilling to leave the once stout ship which had so long been theirhome.

  "We must go, my lads," exclaimed Devereux, with a sigh, as the flames,fanned by the wind, rapidly approached the quarter-deck. "One goodthing is, that should she drive on shore, and the French be in theneighbourhood, they will not benefit by her."

  "Hurrah! one cheer for the old barkie before we leave her!" cried ReubenCole, as they launched the boat on to the ice. "Another good is, thatnot another mortal man will set his foot on her deck after us."

  "Hurrah! hurrah! hurrah!" they shouted, as they ran the boat over theice.

  They did not leave the ship a moment too soon, for scarcely had they gottheir boat into the water to the leeward of the floe, than thefore-mast, already a pyramid of fire, fell with a loud crash on the ice.

  "There is something more coming, and the further off we are, thebetter," cried Devereux. "I should have thought of that before. Giveway, lads; the fire will soon reach the magazine."

  So long as the boat was under the lee of the floe she made tolerablyfine weather of it; but as she increased her distance, the seas camerolling up after her, threatening every instant to engulph her. A masthad been stepped, and a sail got ready for hoisting. This was now runup, and assisted her greatly. Devereux steered, and even he couldscarcely keep his eyes from the burning ship. A cry from his companionsmade him for an instant turn his head. There was a thundering deepreport; and as he looked for an instant, the whole ship seemed, with herremaining masts and spars one mass of flame, to be lifted bodily up outof her icy cradle into the air. Up, up it went, and then, splittinginto ten thousand fragments, down it came hissing and crashing, someinto the foaming sea, and others on to the ice, where they continued toburn brilliantly. There was no cheering this time. Paul felt moreinclined to cry, as he witnessed the fate of the gallant frigate.

  "If the wreckers on shore were expecting a prize, they'll be mistaken,"observed Reuben, when all had been silent for some time.

  They had enough to do to look after their own safety. It was alreadydusk. Masses of ice were floating about, not very thickly, but thickenough to make it a matter of difficulty to avoid them. The land wasflat, and they were nearer to it than they supposed. A point appearedon the right. If they could get round it without being swamped, theywould be in smooth water. They gave the point a sufficient berth. Aheavy sea came rolling by them; luffing up, they ran in, and in anotherminute found themselves standing up a river of some size in perfectlysmooth water. The weather was very cold, and they were anxious to geton shore as soon as possible. The further up they went, however, themore likely they were, they thought, to find satisfactory shelter, foras yet no houses of any sort could be seen. Shelter, however, must, ifpossible, be found, for although they had provisions, the weather wastoo cold to allow them to remain out, if it could be helped. They stoodon for nearly half an hour, when a light was seen glimmering on theopposite shore. They steered towards it, fortunately lowering the sailwhen at some distance from it, for before the boat had lost way, herstem struck against the ice which fringed the bank, and very nearlystove in her bow. Searching about, however, they at length found alanding-place, and with hearts thankful for their escape sprang onshore. That they might not be a burden to the people whose hospitalitythey intended to seek, they loaded themselves, not only with thevaluables they had rescued from the wreck, but with a good supply ofprovisions. They proceeded, therefore, boldly along a tolerable road inthe direction of the light, or rather lights, for several appeared asthey advanced.

  "Oh, depend on it we shall have a cordial reception," said O'Grady."Very likely that is some fat old Burgomaster's country residence, andhe is giving a ball, or an entertainment of some sort, for which weshall come in."

  "As likely it is a flour-mill, and those lights we see are from itswindows," remarked Devereux.

  "We shall soon settle the point, for we shall be up to the placedirectly," said Paul. "The lights are lower than I at first thought,and appear to be in the windows of several houses. Hark! I hear thetramp of horses coming along the road."

  "Qui va la?" shouted a voice, in sharp, stern accents. "Stand anddeclare yourselves!"

  "We are in for it," whispered O'Grady. "What can the fellows be?"

  "French dragoons, I am afraid," answered Paul, "There is no useattempting to deceive them. They ask who we are."

  "Gerrard, you speak French better than I do; tell them," said Devereux.

  "Naval officers who have lost their ship, and are seeking for shelterthis bitter cold night," shouted Paul.

  "Come then with us," exclaimed the sergeant in command of the patrol,riding up. "Your story, friends, may or may not be true. If you arespies, the consequences may be unpleasant."

  Escorted by the horsemen, they were conducted to the building they hadseen. It appeared to be a large country house. All the outhouses andlower rooms were converted into stables, little trouble having beentaken to remove rich Brussels carpets or valuable furniture. They wereled upstairs to a large room, where several officers were seated atsupper, and were announced as prisoners just captured on the road,reporting themselves as naval officers.

  "A likely story," observed the commanding officer--a general apparentlyby his uniform. "What have you to say for yourselves?"

  "That our tale is true," answered Devereux. "Any person on the coastmust have seen our ship burning. If you will send, you can ascertainthe truth of that part of our account."

  "It is a considerable distance from the coast, and we cannot spare mento send," said the genera
l, gruffly.

  "The boat by which we landed will be found at the bank of the river,"observed Paul, quietly.

  "Very likely, but that will only prove that you landed from some shipoff the coast," exclaimed the general, in an angry tone. "You werefound prowling about my head-quarters, the act of spies, and as spiesyou will be treated. If your story is not authenticated, you will beshot at sunrise."

  "Say, rather, brutally murdered!" said Devereux, indignantly. "I callall here to witness that I state that I am a British officer, that theseare my subordinates, that all I have said is true, and that we landedhere not knowing that the French were occupying the country."

  The general, once well known for his atrocious cruelties, had made asignal to the guard to lead away the prisoners, when a young man enteredthe room dressed in the uniform of an hussar. Paul looked at him veryhard, struck by his strong likeness to Alphonse Montauban.

  "What!" exclaimed the new comer, springing forward, and taking Paul'shand, "Is it possible?"

  His voice made Devereux and O'Grady turn their heads; and in spite ofthe astonished and angry looks of the general and some of his officers,he grasped their hands; then turning to the general, he cried out--

  "What have these officers done? They appear to be treated as criminals.I know them well. They are old friends, who, when I was theirprisoner, treated me with kindness, sympathy, and generosity. I willanswer for it that whatever account they have given of themselves is thetrue one."

  "That alters the case, my dear Count," said the general, in a blandertone than he had as yet used. "If they really have been wrecked,although we must consider them as prisoners, they shall receive allcourtesy at our hands, and be exchanged as soon as possible."

  Of course Devereux again gave an account of their adventures, on thetruth of which Alphonse staked his honour.

  "Very well; then if they will pass their parole, they shall be committedto your charge, Count," said the general, with a more courteous glanceat the English officers than he had hitherto bestowed.

  All arrangements having been made, the prisoners accompanied Alphonse tohis quarters, where, with the aid of the provisions they had brought, anample repast was soon spread before them. Of course they were all eagerto know how Alphonse had happened so opportunely to make his appearance.He briefly told them that his father, who was no other than the oldgentleman in the chateau whom Paul and O'Grady had known as _Mon Oncle_,was the Count de Montauban, and that his title having been restored bythe Emperor, he had, on his death, succeeded to it; that having left themarine, of which his experiences had made him heartily sick, he hadentered the army, and had rapidly risen to the command of a troop in alight cavalry regiment. His corps belonged to a division of the armywhich for some strategical object had been pushed forward, but wasexpected quickly to retreat, when he thought it very possible that thegeneral would set them at liberty.

  The old friends spent a very pleasant evening, much pleasanter, O'Gradyremarked, for his part, than if he had expected to be taken out to beshot the next morning as a spy. He asked, not without a blush,increased when he saw Paul's laughing eye fixed on him, after Rosalie.

  "Oh, my dear cousin is well, and merry as ever, if I may judge by herletters, for she writes constantly to me; indeed, I may confess that ourparents have arranged an affair between us which we neither of us shallbe loath to carry out. When I saw her, she laughed a great deal at theattempts of my young Irish friend, as she called you, O'Grady, to learnFrench, and said that she was afraid she would have had to give you upas a hopeless case."

  Poor Paddy made an hysterical attempt to join the laugh of hiscompanions against himself, and it was observed that he never again, atleast not for some years, spoke about his dear little Rosalie.

  After a detention of some weeks, the whole party were, as Alphonse hadanticipated they would be, released, and having ample funds which theyoung Count pressed on them, they made their way without difficulty toCuxhaven, which place of course the captain and officers and crew of thelost frigate had long since left. They succeeded, however, without muchdelay in getting over to England. Mary recovered her health, and onDevereux becoming a commander, they were married. O'Grady married oneof her younger sisters a few years afterwards, and when peace came, paida very pleasant visit to his old friends the Count and CountessMontauban.

  Paul rose to the top of his profession, and used to take great delightin narrating to his grandchildren his adventures when he was acabin-boy. To one of these grandchildren I am indebted for thishistory.

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