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Title: True Blue

Author: William Henry Giles Kingston

Release date: May 15, 2007 [eBook #21481]

Language: English

Credits: Produced by Nick Hodson of London, England


*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK TRUE BLUE ***




Produced by Nick Hodson of London, England




True Blue--A British Seaman of the Old School, by W.H.G. Kingston.

________________________________________________________________________

From an Introduction by Herbert Strang.

The present volume gives a capital description of life in the Navy in
days of the old three-decker, and many interesting particulars of the
naval warfare in the revolutionary period, including the battle of the
"glorious first of June."  It differs from the average boys' story in
one important respect.  The hero, instead of gaining a title and a
fortune, refuses to rise above the class in which he was born, and
attains no higher rank than that of a warrant-officer.  The author
skilfully introduces little touches and incidents, such as True Blue's
conduct when at a theatrical performance, which make his career seem
entirely natural and reasonable, and enlists the sympathy and approval
of the reader.  "He had not aimed high, in one sense of the word," says
Kingston in the closing pages, "and yet he had in another sense always
aimed high and nobly--to do his duty."  In Kingston's eyes no mariner,
nor any other man, could have higher praise.

________________________________________________________________________

TRUE BLUE--BY W.H.G. KINGSTON.



CHAPTER ONE.

TRUE BLUE--A BRITISH SEAMAN OF THE OLD SCHOOL.

The old _Terrible_, 74, was ploughing her way across the waters of the
Atlantic, now rolling and leaping, dark and angry, with white-crested
seas which dashed against her bows and flew in masses of foam over her
decks.  She was under her three topsails, closely reefed; but even thus
her tall masts bent, and twisted, and writhed, as if striving to leap
out of her, while every timber and bulkhead fore and aft creaked and
groaned, and the blocks rattled, and the wind roared and whistled
through the rigging in chorus; and the wild waves rolled and tumbled the
big ship about, making her their sport, as if she was a mere cock-boat.

Stronger and stronger blew the gale; darkness came on and covered the
world of waters, and through that darkness the ship had to force her way
amid the foaming, hissing seas.  Darker and darker it grew, till the
lookout men declared that they might as well have shut their eyes, for
they could scarcely make out their own hands when held at arm's length
before their noses.

Suddenly, however, the darkness was dispelled by the vivid flashes of
lightning, which, darting from the low hanging clouds, circled about
their heads, throwing a lurid glare on the countenances of all on deck.
Once more all was dark; then again the forked lightning burst forth
hissing and crackling through the air, leaping along the waves and
playing round the quivering masts.  Now the big ship plunged into the
trough of the sea with a force which made it seem as if she was never
going to rise again; but up the next watery height she climbed, and when
she got to the top, she stopped as if to look about her, while the
lightning flashed brighter than ever; and then, rolling and pitching,
and cutting numerous other antics, she lifted up her stern as if she was
going to give a vicious fling out with her heels, and downwards she
plunged into the dark obscurity, amid the high foam-topped seas, which
hissed and roared high above her bulwarks.  Her crew walked her deck
with but little anxiety, although they saw that the gale was likely to
increase into a hurricane; for they had long served together, they knew
what each other was made of, and they had confidence in their officers
and in the stout ship they manned.

The watch below had hitherto remained in their hammocks, and most of
them, in spite of the gale, slept as soundly as ever.  What cared they
that the ship was roiling and tumbling about?  They knew that she was
watertight and strong, that she had plenty of sea-room, and that they
would be roused up quickly enough if they were wanted.  There was one
person, however, who did not sleep soundly--that was her Captain, Josiah
Penrose.  He could not forget that he had the lives of some eight
hundred beings committed to his charge, and he knew well that, even on
board a stout ship with plenty of sea-room, an accident might occur
which would require his immediate presence on deck.  He was therefore
sitting up in his cabin, holding on as best he could, and attempting to
read--a task under all circumstances, considering that he had lost an
eye, and was not a very bright scholar, more difficult of accomplishment
than may be supposed.  He had lost an arm, too, which made it difficult
for him to hold a book; besides, his book was large, and the printing
was not over clear, a fault common in those days; and the paper was a
good deal stained and injured from the effects of damp and hot climates.
He was aroused from his studies by a signal at the door, and the
entrance of one of the quartermasters.

"What is it, Pringle?" asked the Captain, looking up.

"Why, sir, Molly Freeborn is taken very bad, and the doctor says that he
thought you would like to know," was the answer.  "He doesn't think as
how she'll get over it.  Maybe, sir, you'd wish to see the poor woman?"

"Certainly, yes; I'll go below and see her," answered the Captain in a
kind tone.  "Poor Molly!  But where is her husband--where is Freeborn?
It will be a great blow to him."

"It is his watch on deck, sir.  No one liked to go and tell him.  He
could do no good, and the best chance, the doctor said, was to keep
Molly quiet.  But I suppose that they'll let him know now," answered the
quartermaster.

"Yes; do you go and find him, and take him below to his wife, and just
break her state gently to him, Pringle," said the Captain.

Captain Penrose stopped a moment to slip on his greatcoat, and to jam a
sou'wester tightly down over his head, before he left the cabin on his
errand of kindness, when a terrific clap was heard, louder than one of
thunder, and the ship seemed to quiver in every timber fore and aft.
The Captain sprang on deck, for the moment, in his anxiety for the
safety of his ship, forgetting his intention with regard to Molly
Freeborn.

Poor Molly!  There she lay in the sick-bay, which had been appropriated
to her use, gasping out her life amid the tumult and disturbance of that
terrific storm.  She was one of three women allowed, in those days,
under certain circumstances, to be on board ship for the purpose of
acting as nurses to the sick, and of washing for the officers and men.
Her husband was captain of the maintop, and as gallant and fine a seaman
as ever stepped.  Everybody liked and respected him.

But Molly was even a greater favourite.  There was not a kinder-hearted,
more gentle, sensible, and judicious person in existence.  No one had a
greater variety of receipts for all sorts of ailments, and no one could
more artistically cook dishes better suited to the taste of the sick.
Most of the officers, who had from time to time been ill and wounded,
acknowledged and prized her talents and excellencies; and the Captain
declared that he considered he owed his life, under Providence, entirely
to the care with which she nursed him through an attack of fever when
the doctor despaired of his life.

"All hands on deck!" was the order given as soon as the Captain saw what
had occurred.  The main-topsail had been blown from the boltropes, and
the tattered remnants were now lashing and slashing about in the gale,
twisting into inextricable knots, and winding and wriggling round the
main-topsail yard, rendering it a work of great danger to go out on it.
The boatswain's whistle sounded shrilly through the storm a well-known
note.  "All hands shorten sail!" was echoed along the decks.  "Rouse out
there--rouse out--idlers and all on deck!"  Everybody knew that there
was work to be done; indeed, the clap made by the parting of the sail
had awakened even the soundest sleepers.  Among the first aloft, who
endeavoured to clear the yard of the fragments of the sail, was William
Freeborn, the captain of the maintop.  With knives and hands they worked
away in spite of the lashing they got, now being almost strangled, and
now dragged off the yard.

The Captain resolved to heave the ship to.  The wind had shifted, and if
they ran on even under bare poles, they would be carried on too much out
of their course.  It was a delicate and difficult operation.  A new
main-topsail had first to be bent.  It took the united strength of the
crew to hoist it to the yard.  At length the sail was got up and closely
reefed, hauled out, strengthened in every possible way to resist the
fury of the gale.  It was an operation which occupied some time.  The
fore-topsail had to be taken in.  The helm was put down, and, as she
came slowly up to the wind, the after-sail being taken off also, she lay
to, gallantly riding over the still rising seas.  Though she did not
tumble about, perhaps, quite as much as she had been doing, her
movements were far from easy.  She did not roll as before, as she was
kept pressed down on one side; still every now and then she gave a pitch
as she glided down into the trough of the sea, which made every timber
and mast creak and quiver, and few on board would have been inclined to
sing:

  "Here's a sou'wester coming, Billy,
  Don't you hear it roar now!
  Oh help them!  How I pities those
  Unhappy folks on shore now!"

At length William Freeborn was relieved from his post aloft, and came
down on deck.  Paul Pringle, his old friend and messmate, who had been
hunting for him through the darkness, found him at last.  Paul grieved
sincerely for the news he had to communicate, and, not liking the task
imposed on him, scarcely knew how to begin.

"Bill," said he with a sigh, "you and I, boy and man, have sailed
together a good score of years, and never had a fall-out about nothing
all that time, and it goes to my heart, Bill, to say any thing that you
won't like; but it must be done--that I sees--so it's no use to have no
circumbendibus.  Your missus was took very bad--very bad indeed--just in
the middle of the gale, and there was no one to send for you--and so, do
you see--"

"My wife--Molly!--oh, what has happened, Paul?" exclaimed Freeborn, not
waiting for an answer; but springing below, he rushed to the sick-bay,
as the hospital is called.  The faint cry of an infant reached his ears
as he opened the door.  Betty Snell, one of the other nurses, was so
busily employed with something on her knees, that she did not see him
enter.  The dim light of a lantern, hanging from a beam overhead, fell
on it.  He saw that it was a newborn infant.  He guessed what had
happened, but he did not stop to caress it, for beyond was the cot
occupied by his wife.  There she lay, all still and silent.  His heart
sank within him; he gazed at her with a feeling of terror and anguish
which he had never before experienced.  He took her hand.  It fell
heavily by her side.  He gasped for breath.  "Molly!" he exclaimed at
length, "speak to me, girl--what has happened?"

There was no answer.  Then he knew that his honest, true-hearted wife
was snatched from him in this world for ever.  The big drops of salt
spray, which still clung to his hair and bushy beard, dropped on the
kind face of her he had loved so well, but not a tear escaped his eyes.
He gladly would have wept, but he had not for so many a long year done
such a thing, and he felt too stunned and bewildered to do so now.  He
had stood as a sailor alone could stand on so unstable a foothold,
gazing on those now placid and pale unchanging features for a long
time,--how long he could not tell,--when Paul Pringle, who had followed
him to the door of the sick-bay, came up, and, gently taking him by the
shoulders, said:

"Come along, Bill; there's no use mourning: we all loved her, and we all
feel for you, from the Captain downwards.  That's a fact.  But just do
you come and have a look at the younker.  Betty Snell vows that he's the
very image of you, all except the beard and pigtail."

The latter appendage in those days was worn by most sailors, and Bill
Freeborn had reason to pride himself on his.  The mention of it just
then, however, sent a pang through his heart, for Molly had the morning
before the gale dressed it for him.

Freeborn at first shook his head and would not move; but at last his
shipmate got him to turn round, and then Betty Snell held up the poor
little helpless infant to him, and the father's heart felt a touch of
tenderness of a nature it had never before experienced, and he stooped
down and bestowed a kiss on the brow of his newborn motherless child.
He did not, however, venture to take it in his arms.

"You'll look after it, Betty, and be kind to it?" said he in a husky
voice.  "I'm sure you will, for her sake who lies there?"

"Yes, yes, Bill; no fear," answered Betty, who was a good-natured
creature in her way, though it was a rough way, by the bye.

She was the wife of one of the boatswain's mates.  Her companion, Nancy
Bolton, who was the wife of the sergeant of marines, was much the same
sort of person; indeed, it would not have done for the style of life
they had to lead, to have had too refined characters on board.

"Bless you, Freeborn--take care of the baby, of course we will!" added
Nancy, looking up from some occupation about which she had been engaged.
"We'll both be mothers to him, and all the ship's company will act the
part of a father to him.  Never you fear that.  As long as the old ship
holds together, he'll not want friends; nor after it, if there's one of
us alive.  Set your mind at rest now."

"Yes, that we will, old ship," exclaimed Paul Pringle, taking Freeborn's
hand and wringing it warmly.  "That's to say, if the little chap wants
more looking after than you can manage.  But come along now.  There's no
use staying here.  Bet and Nancy will look after the child better than
we can, and you must turn in.  Your hammock is the best place for you
now."

The gale at length ceased; the ship was put on her proper course for the
West Indies, whither she was bound; the sea went down, the clouds
cleared away, and the glorious sun came out and shone brightly over the
blue ocean.  All the officers and men assembled on the upper deck, and
then near one of the middle ports was placed a coffin, covered with the
Union-Jack.  There ought to have been a chaplain, but there was none;
and so the Captain came forward with a Prayer-book, and in an
impressive, feeling way, though not without difficulty, read the
beautiful burial service to be used at sea for a departed sister; and
the two women stood near the coffin, one holding a small infant; and
there stood William Freeborn, supported by Paul Pringle, for by himself
he could scarcely stand; and then slowly and carefully the coffin was
lowered into the waves, and as they closed over it, in the impulse of
the moment, the bereaved widower would have thrown himself after it, not
knowing what he was about, had not Paul Pringle held him back.  Down
sank the coffin rapidly, and was hid to sight by the blue ocean--the
grave of many a brave sailor, and of thousands of the young, and fair,
and brave, and joyous, and of the proud and rich also, but never of a
more kind-hearted honest woman than was Molly Freeborn.  So all on board
the _Terrible_ declared, and assuredly they spoke the truth.



CHAPTER TWO.

Onward across the Atlantic, as fast as her broad spread of white canvas
filled by the wind could force her, glided the staunch old
"seventy-four," which bore our hero and his fortunes, though at that
time they did not look very prosperous; nor was he himself, it must be
acknowledged, held in much consideration except by his own father and
his two worthy nurses.  His fare, too, was not of the most luxurious,
nor suited to his delicate appetite.  Milk there was none; and the
purser, not expecting so juvenile an addition to the ship's company, had
not provided any in a preserved state,--indeed, in those days, it may be
doubted whether such an invention had been thought of,--while a
round-shot had carried off the head of the cow in the last action in
which the _Terrible_ had been engaged.  As she furnished fresh beef to
the ship's company, they would not have objected to a similar accident
happening again.

Poor Molly's child had, therefore, to be fed on flour and water, and
such slops as the doctor and the nurses could think of.  They could not
have been unsuitable, for it throve wonderfully, and was pronounced by
all the ship's company as fine a child as ever was seen.

"Have you been and had a look at Molly Freeborn's baby?" asked Dick
Tarbrush of his messmate, Tom Buntline.  "Do now, then.  Such a pretty
young squeaker.  Bless you, it'll do your heart good.  He's quite a
hangel."

Similar remarks were made, one to the other, by the men; and one by one,
or sometimes a dozen of them together, would come into the women's cabin
to have a look at the baby, and then they would stand in a circle round
him, with their hands on their hips or behind them, afraid to touch it,
their pigtails stuck out as they bent down, their huge beards, and
whiskers, and pendent lovelocks forming a strong contrast to the
diminutive, delicate features of the infant, who might, notwithstanding,
one day be expected to grow up similar in all respects to one of them.

After the gale, the _Terrible_ encountered head winds, and light winds,
and calms, and baffling winds of every description, so that her passage
to the station was long delayed.  It gave time, however, for the baby to
grow, and for the discussion of several knotty points connected with
him.  The most knotty of them was the matter of his christening.  Now,
the crew held very much the same opinion with regard to their Captain
that a certain captain held of himself, when one day he took it into his
head to make his chaplain a bishop, that of his own sovereign will he
could do all things.  They knew that when there was no chaplain on
board, he could bury a grownup person, and so they thought that he
surely could christen a little infant.  They accordingly, after due
deliberation, resolved to send a deputation to him, requesting him to
perform the ceremony.

After some discussion, it was agreed that it would be advisable to carry
the baby itself with them, to strengthen the force of their appeal.  It
was thought better that the women should not appear; and Paul Pringle
was selected unanimously to be the bearer of the child.  Now honest Paul
was a bachelor, and had literally never handled a baby in his life.  He,
therefore, felt an uncommon awe and trepidation, as half unwillingly and
half proudly he undertook the office.  However, at last, when coyly led
forward, with his head all on one side and a beaming smile on his honest
countenance, he found that his big paws, stretched out, made a
first-rate cradle; though, not being aware of the excessive lightness of
the little creature, he very nearly chucked it over his shoulders.
Betty and Nancy, after arranging the child's clothes, bestowing sundry
kisses, and giving several important cautions, let the party of honest
Jacks proceed on their errand.

"Well, my lads, what is it you want?" asked the Captain in a
good-natured voice, as the seamen, being announced by the sentry, made
their appearance at the door of the cabin.

Paul Pringle cleared his voice before speaking, and then he said, very
nearly choking the baby in his mechanical attempt to pull a lock of his
hair as he spoke:

"We be come for to ax your honour to make a Christian of this here
squeaker."

The good Captain looked up with his one eye, and now perceived the small
creature that Paul held in his hands.

"Ah, you mean that you want him christened, I suppose," answered the
Captain, smiling.  "Well, I must see about that.  Let me have a look at
the poor little fellow.  He thrives well.  See, he smiles already.
He'll be a credit to the ship, I hope.  I'll do what I can, my lads.  I
don't think that there's anything about it in the articles of war.
Still, what can be done I'll do, most assuredly."

While Captain Penrose was speaking, he was looking kindly at the infant
and playing his finger round its mouth.  He had had children of his own,
and he felt as a father, though little indeed had he seen of them, and
they had all long since been taken from him.

"Now you may go, my lads, and I'll let you know what I can do for you,"
he said after some time.

On this the deputation withdrew, well pleased with their interview.

As soon as the men were gone, Captain Penrose turned to the articles of
war, and all the rules and regulations of the service with which he had
been furnished, and hunted them through, and turned them over and over
again, but could find nothing whatever about the baptism of infants.
Most assiduously he looked through his Prayer-Book: not a word could he
discover authorising captains in the navy to perform the rite.  He
pulled down all the books on his shelves and hunted them over; there
were not many, certainly, but they made up by their quality and
toughness for their want of number: not a word on the subject in
question could he find.  For many an hour and for many a day did he
search, for he was not a man to be baffled by a knotty point or by an
enemy for want of exertion on his part, though at last he had to confess
that in this matter he was beaten.  He therefore sent for Paul Pringle,
and told him that though he could bury all the ship's company, and could
hang a mutineer at the yardarm, or could shoot him on the quarterdeck,
he had no authority, that he could find, for christening a baby.  Much
disappointed, Paul returned to his shipmates.  In full conclave,
therefore, it was settled, with poor Will Freeborn's consent, that as
soon as the ship reached Port Royal harbour, in Jamaica, the little
fellow should be taken on shore to be christened all shipshape and
properly.  When the Captain heard of this, he gave his full consent to
the arrangement, and promised to assist in its execution.

The flag of the gallant Sir Peter Parker was flying in the harbour of
Port Royal when, after a long passage, the _Terrible_ fired the usual
salute on entering, and dropped her anchor there.  Two or three days
elapsed before the duty of the ship would allow any of the crew to go on
shore.  On the first Sunday morning, however, it was notified that a
hundred of them might have six hours' leave, and that if the infant was
presented, after morning service, before the minister of one of the
parish churches, he would perform the wished-for ceremony.  Great were
the preparations which had been made.  Betty Snell and Nancy Bolton were
dressed out with shawls, and furbelows, and ribbons of the gayest
colours and patterns, and looked and thought themselves very fine.
Nothing could surpass the magnificence of the child's robe.  All the
knowledge of embroidery possessed by the whole ship's company had been
expended on it, and every chest and bag had been ransacked to find
coloured beads and bits of silk and worsted and cotton of different hues
to work on it.  The devices were curious.  There were anchors and cables
twisting about all over it, and stars and guns, and there was a
full-rigged ship in front; while a little straw hat, which had been
plaited and well lined, was stuck on the child's head in the most
knowing of ways, with the name of the _Terrible_ worked in gold letters
on a ribbon round it.  Certainly, however, nothing could be more
inappropriate than the name to the little smiling infant thus adorned.
Never had such a dress been worn before by any baby ashore or afloat.

Then his shipmates took care that Will Freeborn himself should be in
unusually good trim, and they got him to let Nancy Bolton dress his
pigtail, while Sergeant Bolton stood by, and got him into conversation;
and as for Paul Pringle, he turned out in first-rate style, and so did
two of Freeborn's messmates and especial chums, Peter Ogle and Abel
Bush, both first-rate seamen.  All the men who had leave, indeed, rigged
out in their best, and adorned themselves to the utmost of their power.
The boatswain, also, got them a dozen flags, which they hoisted on
boathooks and other small spars; and they had on board, besides, a
one-legged black fiddler, and a sort of amateur band, all of whom were
allowed to accompany them.

On shore early on Sunday morning they went, and marshalled as they
landed from the boats which conveyed them on the quays of Kingston.  The
one-legged black fiddler, Sam, being the only professional, and the
rated musician on board, claimed the honour of leading the way, followed
by the rest of the band with their musical instruments.  Then came the
father of the baby, Will Freeborn, supported on either side by Paul
Pringle and Peter Ogle, who each bore a flag on a staff; and next, Betty
Snell, to whom had been awarded the honour of carrying the important
personage of the day; and on one side of her walked Nancy Bolton, and on
the other Abel Bush, one of the three proposed godfathers, with another
flag.  In consequence of the numberless chances of war, it had been
agreed that the child should have three godfathers and two godmothers;
besides which, each of the godfathers was to have a mate who was to take
his place in case of his death, and to assist Freeborn in looking after
his son, so that there was every probability of poor Molly's son being
well taken care of.  These, then, came next, bearing aloft an ensign and
a Union-Jack, while the rest of the crew, with more flags, rolling
along, made up the remainder of the procession.

But the person who created the greatest sensation among the spectators,
especially of his own colour, was Sam Smatch, the one-legged fiddler;
nor did he deem himself to be the least in importance.  No one was in
higher feather.  He felt himself at home in the country--the hot climate
suited him; he saw numbers of his own race and hue, inclined, like
himself, to be merry and idle.  How he grinned and rolled his eyes about
on every side--how he scraped away with his bow--how he kicked up his
wooden leg and cut capers which few people, even with two, could have
performed as well!  As to the rest of the band, he beat them hollow.  In
vain they tried to play.  If they played fast, he played faster; when
they played loud, he played louder; for, as he used to boast, his
instrument was a very wonderful one, and there were not many which could
come up to it.  The crowd of negroes who collected from every side to
stare at the procession, admired him amazingly, and cheered, and
shrieked, and laughed, and clapped their hands in gleeful approbation of
his performance.

Thus the procession advanced through the streets of Kingston till it
reached the church door, it wanted still some time to the commencement
of service, so the men were enabled to take their seats at one end of
the building without creating any disturbance.  There was plenty of room
for them, for unhappily the proprietors, merchants and attorneys, the
managers of estates and other residents, were very irregular attendants
at places of worship.  The few people who did collect for worship stared
with surprise at seeing so unusual a number of sailors collected
together; and more so when the service was over, to see Paul Pringle,
acting as best man, lead his friend Freeborn, and the two nurses, and
the rest of his shipmates, up to the font.

The clergyman had been warned by the clerk what to expect, or he would
have been equally astonished.

"What is it you want, my good people?" he asked.

"Why, bless your honour, we wants this here young chap, as belongs, I
may say, to the old _Terrible_, seeing as how he was born aboard of her,
made into a regular shipshape Christian."

"Oh, I see," said the minister, smiling; "I will gladly do as you wish.
You have got godfathers and a godmother, I suppose?"

"Oh, Lord bless your honour, there are plenty on us!" answered Paul,
feeling his bashfulness wear off in consequence of the minister's kind
manner.  "There's myself, Paul Pringle, quartermaster, at your honour's
service; and there's Peter Ogle, captain of the foretop, and Abel Bush,
he's captain of the fo'castle; and then, d'ye see, we've each of us our
mates to take command if any of us loses the number of our mess; and
then as there's the two godmothers Nancy and Betty, right honest good
women, the little chap won't fare badly, d'ye see, your honour."

"Indeed, you come rather over-well provided in that respect," observed
the minister, having no little difficulty in refraining from laughing.
"However, I should think that you would find two godfathers and one
godmother, the usual number, sufficient to watch over the religious
education of the child."

"No, your honour," answered Paul quietly; "I'll just ax you what you
thinks the life of any one of us is worth, when you reflexes on the
round-shot and bullets of the enemy, the fever,--`Yellow Jack,' as we
calls him,--and the hurricanes of these here seas?  Who can say that
one-half of us standing here may be alive this time next year?  We
sailors hold our lives riding at single anchor.  We know at any moment
we may have to slip our cable and be off."

The clergyman looked grave and bowed his head.

"You speak too sad a truth," he answered.  "Now tell me, what name do
you propose giving to the child?"

"Billy, your honour," answered Paul at once.

"William?--oh, I understand," observed the clergyman.

"No, Billy, your honour," persisted Paul.  "Billy True Blue, that's the
name we've concluded to give him.  It's the properest, and rightest, and
most convenient, and it's the name he must have," he added firmly.

"But what is the father's name?  What is your name, my man?" asked the
clergyman, turning to Freeborn.

Will told him.

"Oh, then I understand Billy True Blue is to be his Christian name?"
said the clergyman.

"Yes, your honour," answered Paul.  "D'ye see, he'd always be called
Billy.  That would be but natural-like.  Then where's the use of calling
him William?  And True Blue he is, for he was born at sea aboard a
man-o'-war, and he'll be brought up at sea among men-o'-war's men; and
he'll be a right true blue seaman himself one of these days, if he
lives, so there's an end on the matter."

The last remark was intended as a clincher to settle the affair.  The
clergyman had no further objections to offer to the arguments brought
forward, and accordingly the child was then and there christened "Billy
True Blue," to the infinite satisfaction of all his friends.

On leaving the church, the party adjourned to various houses of
entertainment to drink their young shipmate's health.  Much to their
credit, at the time appointed they reappeared on board, returning to the
quay in the style they had come, none of them the worse for liquor.
Captain Penrose had reason to be satisfied with his system of managing
his ship's company.



CHAPTER THREE.

The _Terrible_ was not allowed to remain long idle, for those were
stirring times, as there were Frenchmen and Spaniards, and the Dutch and
Americans to fight; indeed, all the great maritime countries of the
world were leagued against Old England to deprive her, as they hoped, of
the supremacy of the sea.  Again the _Terrible_ was under weigh,
standing for the Leeward Islands to join the squadron of Sir George
Brydges Rodney.  A day or two after she sailed, the surgeon came to the
Captain with an unusually long face.

"What is the matter, Doctor Macbride?" asked Captain Penrose.

"I'm sorry to say, sir, that we have two cases of yellow fever on
board," was the answer.

"What, Yellow Jack--my old enemy?" exclaimed the Captain, trying to look
less concerned than he felt.  "Turn him out then--kick him away--get rid
of him as fast as possible, that's all I can say."

"More easily said than done, I fear, sir," answered the surgeon, who was
well aware that his Captain was more anxious than he would allow; for,
from sad experience, he well knew that when once that scourge of the
West Indies attacks the crew of a ship, it is impossible to say how many
may be the victims, and when it may disappear.

"You are right, doctor.  We must do our best, though, and put our trust
in Providence," answered the Captain gravely.  "Let the men be on deck
as much as possible.  We will have their provisions carefully looked to,
and we must have their minds amused.  Let Sam Smatch keep his fiddle
going.  Fear of the foe kills many, I believe.  Now if we could meet an
enemy, and have a good warm engagement, we should soon put Yellow Jack
and him to flight together.  And I say, doctor, don't let the men see
that you are concerned any more than I am."

After a little further conversation, the doctor took his departure.

The ship continued her course across the Caribbean Sea, with light winds
and under the hottest of suns; and the fever, instead of disappearing,
stealthily crept on, attacking one man after another, till fifty or
sixty of the crew were down with it.  Death came, too, and carried off
one fine fellow, and then another and another, sometimes five or six in
one day.  At last there was a cessation, and the spirits of the sick as
well as of the healthy revived; and Sam Smatch set to work and fiddled
away most lustily, and the crew danced and sang, and tried to forget
that there was such a thing as Yellow Jack on board.  Several of the
sick got better, and even the doctor's and the Captain's spirits
revived.  Once more it fell calm, and, as the Captain was walking the
quarterdeck, Dr Macbride came up to him with a grave face.

"What is the matter now, doctor?" he asked in as cheerful a voice as he
could command; for whatever he felt in private, he would not allow
himself to appear out of spirits before his officers or crew.  "What!
not driven the yellow demon overboard yet?  Kick him--trounce him--get
rid of him somehow!"

"I am sorry to say, sir, that he has attacked the women," answered the
doctor.  "Betty Snell is very ill, and Mrs Bolton is evidently
sickening.  What the motherless baby will do, I cannot say.  Probably
that will die too, and so be provided for."

"Heaven forbid!" said the Captain, "for the honest father's sake.  The
child will have plenty of nurses.  We must not forget poor Molly--how
nobly she braved Yellow Jack himself when the sick wanted her aid!  We
all are bound to look after the baby.  The sooner it is taken away from
the poor woman the better.  Let me see.  Tell Paul Pringle to go and get
the baby and bring it up to my cabin.  That is the most airy and healthy
place for the little chap.  We must rig out a cot for it there.
Freeborn himself would feel bashful at taking his child there.  Either
he or Pringle must act as nurse, though.  I have no fancy for having one
of the ship's boys making the attempt.  They would be feeding him with
salt beef and duff, or smothering him; and as for waking when he cries
at night, there would be little chance of their hearing him.  But I will
go below with you, doctor, and visit the poor people.  Come along."

Saying this, the good Captain descended to the lower-deck with the
surgeon.  The weather side of the ship forward had been screened off and
appropriated to the sick.  As he appeared, those who were conscious
lifted up their heads and welcomed him with a look of pleasure; but many
were raving and shrieking in the delirium of fever, and others, worn out
by its attacks, were sunk in stupor from which they were not to awake.
Then the Captain visited the berth of the two women.  Mrs Bolton was
still struggling in a vain attempt to ward off the disease, and
endeavouring to nurse poor little Billy; but she could scarcely lift her
hand to feed him, and evidently a sickness and faintness was stealing
over her.

The Captain said nothing, but going out, sent a boy to call Paul
Pringle.  He soon returned with Paul, who, stooping down, said quietly,
"Here, Mrs Bolton, you feels sick and tired, I know you does.  You've
had hard times looking after Betty Snell, and I'll just dandle the
youngster for you a bit.  You know you can have him again when you feels
better and rested like."

Thus appealed to, poor Nancy gave up the baby to Paul, who dandled it
about before her for a minute; then as she was casting an affectionate
glance at it, he disappeared along the deck with his charge.  It was the
last look she ever took of the infant she had nursed with almost a
mother's care.  Her husband was sent for.  In a short time she was
raving, and before that hour the next day both she and Betty were no
longer among the living.  Their loss was severely felt, not only by
their husbands, but by all the crew.  They and forty of the men were
committed to the deep before the termination of the passage.

At last the _Terrible_ reached Gros Islet Bay, in the Island of Saint
Lucia, that island having been captured by the English from the French.
In a short time a considerable fleet collected there, under Admiral Sir
George Rodney and Rear-Admiral Hyde Parker.  Still the fever continued
on board the _Terrible_ and several other ships.

"Nothing but the fire of the enemy will cure us, Sir George, I fear,"
observed Captain Penrose when paying a visit one day on board the
flagship.

"Then, my dear Penrose, I hope that we shall not have long to wait, for
they are collecting in force, I hear, round the Island of Martinique;
and the moment the fleet is ready for sea, we'll go out and have a brush
with them," was the Admiral's answer.

This news was received with joy by every man in the fleet, and all
exerted themselves more than ever to hasten its equipment.  The Captain
had some idea of leaving little Billy on shore, but both Freeborn and
Pringle begged so hard that he might be allowed to remain that the
Captain gave up the point.

"I don't know how long I may be with the little chap," observed poor
Will.  "It would break my heart to be separated from him; and if we go
into action, we'll stow him away safe in the hold, and he'll be better
off there than among foreign strangers on shore who don't care a bit for
him."

There was much truth in this remark, and so little True Blue still
continued under charge of his rough-looking protectors.  It is
extraordinary how well and tenderly they managed to nurse him and feed
him, and how carefully they washed him and put on his tiny garments.
Paul Pringle was even a greater adept than his own father; and more than
once the Captain could scarcely refrain from laughing as he saw the big,
huge-whiskered quartermaster in a side cabin, seated on one bucket, with
another full of salt water before him, an apron, made out of a piece of
canvas, round his waist, and a large sponge, with a piece of soap in his
hand, washing away at the little fellow.  The baby seemed to enjoy the
cold water amazingly, and kicked and splashed about, and spluttered and
cooed with abundant glee, greatly to Paul's delight.

"Ah, I knowed it.  He'll be a regular salt from truck to kelson!" he
exclaimed, looking at the little fellow affectionately, and holding him
up so as to let his head just float above water.  "He'll astonish them
some of these days.  Depend on't, Will," he added, turning to Freeborn,
who had come in to have a look at his child.

The Captain had directed the hammocks of the two men to be slung in this
cabin, and little True Blue had a cot slung along close to the deck; so
that if by chance he had tumbled out, he would not have been much the
worse for it.  As the father and his friend were in different watches,
they were able, under ordinary circumstances, to relieve each other in
nursing the baby; but when any heavy work was to be done, and the
services of both of them were required on deck, Sam Smatch, who was not
fit even for ordinary idlers' work, was called in to act nurse.

This was an employment in which Sam especially delighted, and he would
have bargained for a gale of wind any day in the week for the sake of
having to take care of little True Blue.  Billy, from the first, never
objected to his black face, but cooed and smiled, and was greatly
delighted whenever he appeared.  Sam altogether took wonderfully to the
baby, and used to declare that he loved it as much as he did his own
fiddle, if not more.  He would not say positively--both were his
delight--both squeaked; but his fiddle was his older friend.  Billy,
indeed, never wanted nurses, and there was not a man on board who was
not happy to get him to look after.  The greatest risk he ran was from
over-kindness, or from having a tumble among the numerous candidates for
the pleasure of dandling him when once they got him among them on the
maindeck; and no set of schoolgirls could make a more eager rush to
snatch up the little child left among them, than did the big-bearded,
whiskered, and pig-tailed tars to catch hold of Billy True Blue.

Among the other candidates for the pleasure of nursing little Billy was
a young midshipman, known generally as Natty Garland.  He had been
seized with the fever, and been carried, for better nursing, into the
Captain's cabin.  This was his first voyage away from home, where he had
left many brothers and sisters.  It was nearly proving his last.
Although he looked so slight and delicate, however, he did recover; but
it was some time before he was fit for duty.

Devoted to his profession, Natty Garland, in spite of his delicate
appearance, became a first-rate, bold, and intelligent seaman, liked by
his Captain, respected by his superior officers and his messmates, and
an especial favourite with the men.

Just before Sir George Rodney had entered Gros Islet Bay, the French
fleet, consisting of twenty-five sail of line-of-battle ships and eight
frigates, under Admiral Count de Guichen, had been haughtily parading
before the island, trying to draw out the then small and unprepared
squadron of Rear-Admiral Hyde Parker.  The British officers and men
fumed and growled at the insult, longing for an opportunity of paying
off the vapouring Frenchmen.  Never, therefore, were anchors weighed
with greater alacrity than when the signal was seen from Admiral
Rodney's ship for the fleet to make sail and stand out to sea.  A course
was steered for Fort Royal Bay, in the Island of Martinique, where the
French fleet was then supposed to be.  The English fleet consisted in
all only of twenty line-of-battle ships and two frigates, but their
inferiority in point of numbers in no way made the British seamen less
eager to encounter the enemy.

Now the former order of things was reversed; the smaller fleet was
blockading the larger, which was equally prepared for battle.  It was a
beautiful sight to see the stout ships, with their white canvas set alow
and aloft, as they glided over the blue sea in front of the harbour
containing their vaunting enemy.  In vain they tacked and wore, and
stood backwards and forwards, never losing sight of the harbour's mouth.
Every opportunity of fighting was offered, but the Frenchmen dared not
come out.

At length Admiral Rodney, disgusted with the pusillanimity of the enemy,
returned to his anchorage in Gros Islet Bay with most of the
line-of-battle ships, leaving only a squadron of the faster sailing
copper-bottomed ships and frigates to watch the enemy's motions, and to
give him notice should they attempt to escape.  The seamen little
doubted that they would soon have a brush with the enemy.  Among all,
none seemed to anticipate a battle with greater satisfaction than Will
Freeborn.  His spirits rose higher by far than they had done since the
death of his wife; and that evening, when Sam Smatch struck up a
hornpipe on the forecastle, no one footed it more merrily than did he.

"All right," observed Paul, "I'm glad Will's himself again.  Poor Molly,
she'd be pleased to see him happy--that I know she would, good soul."

Whether Will's heart was as light as his feet might be doubted.  Several
days passed, and the Frenchmen kept snug at their anchors.  "They'll
move some day or other, and then we'll be at them," was the general
remark.  Still there they lay.  None of the English crews was allowed to
go on shore; but the ships were kept ready to weigh at a moment's
notice.  Daylight had just broken on the 16th of April 1780, when a
frigate under a press of sail was seen approaching the bay.  A signal
was flying from her masthead.  It was one which made the British tars
shout with satisfaction; it was, "The French have put to sea!"

Round went the capstans, up came the anchors, the broad folds of white
canvas were let fall from the yards and sheeted home, and in the course
of a few minutes the whole fleet was under weigh and standing out to
sea.  No one fiddled more lustily than did Sam Smatch, and a right merry
tune he played, while the crew of the _Terrible_ with sturdy tramp
pressed round the bars of the capstan; and never was a topsail more
speedily set than that under charge of Will Freeborn.

No sooner was the fleet clear of the harbour than the enemy was
discovered in the north-west.  Instantly the signal was made from the
flagship, the _Sandwich_, for a general chase.  How shrilly the
boatswains sounded their pipes, how rapidly the men flew aloft or
tramped along the decks, while sail after sail was set, till every ship
was carrying as much canvas as could by any art or contrivance be spread
on her yards!  Beautiful and inspiriting was the sight.  The enemy saw
them coming, but did not heave-to in order to meet them, endeavouring
rather to escape.

All day long the chase continued, and it was not until towards the
evening that, from the British ships, it could be discovered that the
Frenchmen's force consisted of no less than twenty-three sail of the
line, a fifty-gun ship, three frigates, a lugger, and a cutter.
Darkness came on, however, before the British could get up with them;
but sharp eyes all night long were eagerly watching their movements, and
few on board any of the ships could bring themselves to turn in to their
hammocks.

During the night the wind came round to the southward and east, greatly
to the satisfaction of all on board the English fleet, and when morning
broke the Frenchmen were seen close-hauled under their lee.

"What can them chaps be about now?" asked Will Freeborn of Paul Pringle
as they stood near each other before going to their respective stations.
"They are not going to sneak away after all, I hope."

"I'm not quite so sure but that they are going to try it on, though,"
answered Paul, eyeing the distant fleet of the French with no friendly
eye.  "But I'll tell you what: Admiral Rodney is not the chap to let 'em
off so easily.  Ah, look! they are tacking again; they see it won't do.
Hurrah! lads, we'll be at them now before long."

The cheer was taken up by others, and ran along the decks, and was
echoed from ship to ship along the British line.  Every preparation was
now made for immediate action.  The magazines were opened, the powder
and shot were got up, the bulkheads had long been down, the small-arms
were served out, the men bound their heads with their handkerchiefs,
threw off their jackets and shirts, buckled on their cutlasses, and
stuck pistols in their belts.  Meantime, as it had been arranged, Sam
Smatch was sent to look after Billy True Blue, and to carry him down
into the hold as soon as the ship was getting within range of the
enemy's fire.

"Let me just have a look at my boy!" exclaimed Will, as Sam brought him
out on deck, as he said, to show him the enemy whom he would one day
learn to thrash.

Will took the child in his arms, and he gave a glance of affection;
then, giving little Billy back to Sam, he urged him not to delay too
long in taking him below, and sprang aloft to his post in the top, to be
ready to make any alterations that might be required in the sails while
the ship was going into action.

Some hours from sunrise passed away, during which time the fleet was
slowly approaching the reluctant enemy.  It wanted but ten minutes to
noon, when the signal flew out from the masthead of the Admiral for the
fleet to bear down on the French, each ship to steer for and closely
engage the one nearest to her in the enemy's line.  The order was
received with a hearty huzza.  It was promptly and exactly obeyed.
Still, from the lightness of the wind, it was nearly one before the
engagement became general.  And now along the whole line arose dense
volumes of smoke--bright flashes were seen, and the roar of the guns,
and the shouts and shrieks of the combatants were heard.  Thickly flew
the round-shot--the gallant Admiral in the _Sandwich_ was engaged with
two big Frenchmen, who seemed to have singled her out for destruction,
but right nobly and boldly did she bear the brunt of the action.  Shot
after shot struck her, many between wind and water, and some in her
masts and spars, which in consequence threatened to go overboard.  The
_Terrible_, too, was hotly engaged with an opponent worthy of her.  What
her name was could not be discovered.

"Never mind!" was the cry; "we'll soon learn when we make her haul down
her flag!"

Hotter and hotter grew the action.  Many were falling on both sides.
Nearly all the English ships had lost both officers and men, killed and
wounded; while, especially, they were dreadfully cut up in their
rigging.  Freeborn had come below to serve a gun.

"I see, mate, how it is!" cried Pringle to him.  "Those Frenchmen are
fighting to run away.  It's strange not one of our fellows on deck have
been hit yet.  They've aimed all their shot at our spars."

"Hurrah! lads, then," answered Will in a high state of excitement, which
Pringle could not help remarking.  "Fire away, lads.  We'll stop them if
we can from running away, at all events."

As he spoke he applied his match to his gun.  At the moment it sent
forth its missile of death he tottered back, and before Paul Pringle
could catch him had fallen on the deck.  Paul stooped down and raised up
his head.

"It's all over with me, Paul," he said in a low voice; "feel here."

There was a dreadful wound in his side, which made it appear too
probable that his prognostication would prove true.  The rest of the men
near turned round with glances of sorrow, for he was a general
favourite; but they had to attend to the working of their guns.

"Paul," he continued, "you and the ship's company will, I know, look
after my motherless child.  I leave Billy to the care of you all.  Bring
him up as a sailor--a true British tar, mind.  There isn't a nobler life
a man can lead.  I would not have him anything else.  The Captain's very
kind, and will, I know, do his best for him.  But I don't want him to be
an officer--that's very well for them that's born to it; but all I'd
have liked to have seen him, if I had lived, is an open-hearted,
open-handed, honest seaman."  Poor Will was speaking with great
difficulty.  His words came forth low and slowly.

"Yes, yes, Will," answered Paul, pressing his friend's hand.  "We'll
look after him.  There's not a man of the _Terrible_ who would not look
at little True Blue as his own son; and as to making him a seaman, we
none on us would dream of anything else.  It would be utterly impossible
and unnatural like.  Set your mind at rest, mate, about that.  But I
say, Will, wouldn't it do your heart good to have a look at the
younker?"

"Not up here; a shot might hit him, remember," answered the poor father.
"And if they was to move me, I don't think that I should ever be got
below alive.  No, no, Paul; I'll stay here.  It's the best place for a
sailor to die."

Just then there was a cry that the enemy's ships were retreating.  First
the Count de Guichen's own ship, the huge _Couronne_, was seen standing
out of the action, followed by the _Triomphant_ and _Fendant_, leaving
the _Sandwich_ in so battered a condition that she could not follow.
The other ships imitated their leader's example.  One after another, the
British ships found themselves without opponents.  They endeavoured to
make sail and follow; but their running rigging was so cut up that few
could set their sails, while the masts of many went over their sides.
All they could do, therefore, was to send their shot rapidly after the
flying enemy, and give vent to their feelings in loud hurrahs and shouts
of contempt.  The Frenchmen little thought how well this same running
away was teaching the English to beat them, as they did in many a
subsequent combat, until, learning to respect each other's bravery, they
became firm friends and allies, and such, it is to be hoped, they may
remain till the end of time.

The sound of the shouts seemed to revive poor Will Freeborn.

"Now, mate, you'll see Billy, won't you?" said Paul.  "It'll do your
heart good."

Will smiled his assent.  He was feeling no pain then.  A boy was sent to
summon Sam and the baby.  Meantime the doctor came on deck.

"Let him lie here," said he after a short examination; "his moments are
numbered."

Sam soon appeared.  Paul took Billy from him, and, kneeling down, held
the baby to the lips of the dying father.  The men, no longer required
to work the guns, clustered round the group.  Will kissed his child and
held him for a moment in his grasp.

"Shipmates," said he, raising his voice, "you'll all of you be kind to
little True Blue--I know you will; there's no use asking you.  And God
will look after him--I know He will, and forgive me my sins.  Here,
Paul, take the child--I'm slipping my cable, shipmates!"

He turned his eyes on the infant, and, pointing towards him, fell back
into the arms of Abel Bush and Peter Ogle, who had come to have a last
look at their old friend.

He was dead, and little True Blue was left an orphan.



CHAPTER FOUR.

Poor Billy True Blue little knew the loss he had experienced, when, as
usual, he kicked and frisked about, and spluttered and cooed, as that
evening Paul Pringle, with a sad heart, was dipping him in a tub,
preparatory to putting him into his cot.  Paul had soon to send for Sam
Smatch to take his place, as he had plenty of work on deck in repairing
damages.  Besides being much cut up in hull and rigging, the fleet had
suffered greatly, and had had six officers and one hundred and fourteen
men killed, and nine officers and one hundred and forty-five men
wounded.  The Admiral's ship, the _Sandwich_, had suffered the most
severely; and it was only by the united exertions of her own and other
ships' companies that she was kept afloat during the night and all the
next day, till she could be got back again into Gros Islet Bay.  There
every possible exertion was made to repair damages, so as to be in a
state to go in search of the enemy.

It was not, however, till the 6th of May that Sir George Rodney received
intelligence that the French fleet had left the Island of Guadaloupe,
where they had been repairing their damages, and were approaching to
windward of Martinique.

Once more the English fleet was ordered by signal to put to sea; and
with no less zest than before the anchors were run up, and under a crowd
of sail they stood out of the bay.  The wind, however, was contrary, and
for several days the ships had to continue beating against it through
the passage between Martinique and Saint Lucia till the 10th, when, as
the morning broke, the Frenchmen were seen mustering the same number as
before, about three leagues to windward.

"Hurrah! we'll have them now; they'll not demean themselves by running
away!" was the general shout on board the British ships.

Nearer the English approached.  The French formed in line of battle and
bore down upon them.  The hearts of the British tars beat high.  They
thought the time they were looking for had assuredly come; but when
scarcely within so much as random shot, the Frenchmen were seen to haul
their wind, and being much faster sailers than the English, they quickly
got again beyond speaking distance.  The English seamen stamped with
rage and disappointment, as well they might, and hurled no very
complimentary epithets on the enemy.

"The time will come when we get up to you, Monsieur, and then we'll give
it you, won't we?" they exclaimed, shaking their lists at the enemy.

Several times the French came down in the same style, as Paul Pringle
remarked, "like so many dancing-masters skipping along, and then
whisking round and scampering off again."

Words will not describe the utter contempt and hatred the British tars
felt in consequence of this for their enemies.  Had the French mustered
twice their numbers, and could they have got fairly alongside of them,
yardarm to yardarm, they supposed that they could have thrashed them,
and probably would have done so.

At last Admiral Rodney himself, in the hope of deceiving the enemy, made
the signal for the fleet to bear away under all sail.  The manoeuvre had
the desired effect, making the French fancy that the English had taken
to flight; and now growing bold, like yelping hounds, they came after
them in full cry.  The English captains guessed what was expected of
them, and did their best to impede the progress of their ships, so as to
let the enemy gain as much as possible on them.  On the Frenchmen boldly
came, till their van was nearly abreast of the centre of the English,
who had luffed up till they had almost brought the fleet again on a
bowline.

Now, to their great satisfaction, there was a shift of wind, which gave
them the weather-gage.  That was all Admiral Rodney wanted, and once
more the hearts of the British seamen beat proudly with the anticipation
of battle and victory.

The signal was made to engage.  The British ships bore down on the
enemy.  It seemed no longer possible that he would decline to fight.  On
board the _Terrible_ all stood ready at their guns, eyeing the foe.  Sam
Smatch had been despatched with his little charge into the hold, and
ordered, unless he would incur the most dreadful pains and penalties,
not to return on deck.

Sam grinned on receiving the order.  He had not the slightest intention
of infringing it.  He was not a coward; but he was a philosopher.  He
had had fighting enough in his day.  He had lost a leg fighting, and
been otherwise sorely knocked about; and he had vowed, from that time
forward, never to fight if he could help it.  He had no king nor
country, so to speak, to fight for; for though he had become a British
subject, he had not appreciated the privileges he had thereby gained;
and, at all events, they had failed to arouse any especial patriotic
feelings within his bosom.  Nothing, therefore, could please him better
than his present occupation; and tucking his fiddle under one arm, and
making a seat for the baby with the other, he descended with the most
unfeigned satisfaction into the dusky depths of the bottom of the ship.

How intense was the indignation of the British seamen, when, just as
they were within long range of the French, they saw ship after ship
wear, and, under a crowd of sail, take to an ignominious flight!  What
showers of abuse were hurled after them, as were numerous random shots,
though neither were much calculated to do them any harm.  However, by
seven in the evening, Captain Bowyer, in the _Albion_, who led the van,
was seen to reach the centre of the enemy's line.  In the most gallant
style he opened fire, supported by the _Conqueror_ and the other ships
of the van.  In vain the ships of the British centre endeavoured to get
into action.  Every manoeuvre that could be thought of was tried, every
sail was set.  The brave old Captain Penrose walked his deck with hasty
strides and unusual excitement.

"Oh, how I envy that fellow Bowyer!" he exclaimed.  "How rapidly his men
work their guns!  We would be doing the same if we were there.  However,
the time will come when I shall have another stand-up fight with them
before I die.  It may be soon, or it may be some time hence; but the
time will come, that I feel assured of."

"I hope, sir, when it does arrive, you, and all with you, will come off
victorious," observed the second lieutenant, who was in no way inclined
to enter into what he called the Captain's fancies.

"No doubt about it," answered the Captain.  "I trust that I may never
live to see the day when a British fleet is worsted by our old enemies,
the French, or by any others who have ships afloat."

In spite of the partial engagement taking place, the remainder of the
French fleet continued its flight under a press of sail.  Right
gallantly the _Albion_ and _Conqueror_ continued the cannonade; but,
again, the quicker heels of the French enabled them to keep out of the
reach of the remainder of the British fleet, and finally carried them
free of their pursuers.

Still, although night had closed in, Admiral Rodney persevered in
following them up; but the wind had shifted, and given the French the
weather-gage, an advantage which they employed in keeping out of action.
Day after day passed, and then they were to be seen spreading over the
blue sea in the far distance, but not daring to come nearer.  Either
they were waiting for reinforcements, or for some accident which might
give them such a vast superiority that they would no longer have any
fear of the result of a general engagement.

Great, therefore, was the delight of the British, when, on the morning
of the 19th, the wind shifted suddenly, and enabled them to bear down
under a press of sail on the enemy.  The Count de Guichen could no
longer, it was hoped, avoid an action; but, ere the English could get
their guns to bear, the fickle wind again shifted and left the enemy the
choice of engaging or not.  Although the van of the French was to
windward, their rear was still to leeward of the British van, now led by
the gallant Commodore Hotham.  Immediately he bore down upon them and
opened his fire.

The _Terrible_ was in this division, and took a leading part in the
fray.  Several ships on both sides were now hotly engaged.  The French
Admiral, seeing this, seemed to have made up his mind to risk a general
action; and as soon as his van had weathered the British, which the
shift of wind enabled him to do, he bore away along their line to
windward and commenced a heavy cannonade, but at so cautious a distance
that his shot did little damage.  The _Terrible's_ opponent soon sheered
off, and, having more speed than pluck, quickly got out of the range of
her guns, greatly to the disgust of all the crew.

"Look here, mates; is this what those frog-eating Johnny Crapauds call
fighting?" exclaimed Paul Pringle, pointing to de Guichen's distant
line, firing away at the main body of the British fleet.  "Unless
fellows are inclined to lay alongside each other, yardarm to yardarm,
and have it out like brave men, to my mind they had better stay ashore
and leave fighting alone."

The sentiment was echoed heartily by all his hearers, and more
particularly so, when in a short time the whole French fleet was seen
fairly to take to flight, and, under a press of sail, to stand to the
northward.  The British fleet continued all the next day in chase; but,
on the morning of the 21st, not a Frenchman was to be seen; and as many
of the ships had suffered severely in these partial actions, and were
much knocked about by long service, Admiral Rodney stood for Barbadoes,
where they might undergo the required repairs.  They arrived on the 22nd
in Carlisle Bay.

It was not for some time that the crew of the _Terrible_ had a moment to
think of anything but the stern calls of duty.  At last, however, the
old ship was once more ready for sea, and then one spoke to the other
about little Billy True Blue, and their promise to Will Freeborn; and it
was agreed that an assemblage of the whole ship's company should be
held, to decide the course to be pursued for his rearing and education.
The forecastle, or, as seamen call it, "the fo'c's'l," was the place
selected for the meeting.  Tom Snell, the boatswain's mate, Sergeant
Bolton, Peter Ogle, Abel Bush, Paul Pringle, of course, the three
godfathers' mates, and most of the petty officers, spoke on this
important occasion.  Sam Smatch would have been there, but he had to
look after the baby in the cabin; he had, however, explained his
opinion, and claimed the right of voting by proxy; which claim was fully
allowed, seeing that he was absent on the public service.  The
warrant-officers were not present--not that they did not take a warm
interest in the matter, but they did not wish to interfere with the free
discussion in which the men might wish to indulge.  Sergeant Bolton,
however, came, and it was understood that he knew their feelings in all
the important points likely to be broached.  His rank might have kept
him away, but he was present, because, as he said, "I ham, de ye see,
the hinconsolable widower of Nancy Bolton, the hintfant's nurse, and how
do ye think hany one can have more hinterest in the hangel than I?"

Tom Snell was looked upon as a great orator; not the less so that he
often enforced his arguments with a rope's end.

"Mates," said he, rising, when all the men were assembled, perched about
in every available spot and in every possible attitude, and he brought
one clenched fist down on the other open palm, with a sound which echoed
along the decks, "this is how the case stands, d'ye see.  There's a baby
born aboard this here ship, and that baby had a mother, a good real
shipshape woman, who was as kind a nurse to all on us as was sick as
could be.  Well, I won't talk on her; she dies, and two other women acts
as nurses to the baby; they were good women too, but I won't talk on
them."  Tom passed the hairy back of his rough hand across his eyes, and
continued: "Now the baby fell to the natural care like of his daddy, a
true-hearted honest sailor as ever stepped.  He'd have done honestly by
him, and brought him up as a right real seaman, there's no doubt; but,
d'ye see, as ye know, mates all, a sneaking Frenchman's round-shot comes
aboard us and strikes him between wind and water, so to speak, and
pretty nigh cuts him in two.  Before he slipped his cable, many on you
who stood near knows what he said to us.  He told us that he gave the
baby to the ship's company--to look after--to be brought up as a seaman
should be brought up.  One and all on us would do the same and much
more, as I know, for little True Blue, seeing as how he naturally-like
belongs to us--ay, mates, and we would be ready to fight for him to the
last; and if there was one thing would make us keep our colours flying
to the last, it would be to prevent him falling into the enemy's hands,
to be brought up as a capering, frog-eating Frenchman.  But, mates, d'ye
see, this would be very well if we could all stick together aboard the
same ship, and for his sake I knows we'd try to do it; but, as you
knows, there are the chances of war--we may be separated--one may go to
one ship, one may go to another, and who is he to go with, I should like
to know?  Now I don't want that any on us should lose the pleasure and
honour of looking after him, that I don't--I'd scorn to be so unjust to
any one; but we wants to settle when the evil time arrives when we, who
has served together so long, and fought together, and stuck together
like brothers and true seamen should, comes to be scattered, who the
little chap, Billy True Blue, is to go with--that's the point, mates,
d'ye see?  He can't go with us all.  He must be with some one on us, the
primest seaman, too, who'll teach him to knot and splice, to hand-reef
and steer, and all the ways of a seaman.  That's what we has to do.  We
can't teach him much yet, you'll all allow, and the Captain says as how
he'll give nine dozen to any man as puts a quid of baccy in the
younker's mouth; so we can't even learn him to chaw yet, which to my
mind he'd do better nor anything else, as he's most practice with his
jaws just yet; but the time will come when he can use his fists, too,
and the sooner he gets 'em into the tar-bucket the better, says I."
This opinion was loudly applauded by all present.

Tom made some further remarks to the same effect.  "And now," he
concluded, "any one on you who has got anything for to say for or again'
what I've been a-saying, let him stand up on his legs and say it out
like a man."

Bill Tompion, one of the gunner's crew, thereon arose with a sudden
spring, and, having squirted a stream of tobacco juice through a port,
exclaimed:

"What Tom says is all very true.  No one here nor there will want to
deny it; but what I axes is, who's to have charge of the younker?
That's what I see we wants to settle.  When I fires my gun, I doesn't
blaze away at the air, but looks along it and sees what I'm going to
fire at, and takes my aim; and, d'ye see, if it's an enemy's ship not
far off, I generally hits, too.  Now that's just as I was saying, mates,
what we have to do.  We wants to fix on fit and proper persons to look
after our little chap aboard here,--the ship's own child, I may say,--to
see that he gets into no mischief, and to bring him up as a seaman
should be brought up.  Now I'd like to be one on those to look after
him, and Tom would like to be one, and many on us would like to have the
work, and most of us, ay, and all of us," (there was a general cheer);
"but, mates, it isn't the men who'd like it most, but the men who is
most fit, d'ye see, we are bound to choose.  Now I speak for myself.
I'm a thoughtless, careless sailor--I've run my head into more scrapes
than I'd like to own.  I'm very well afloat, but ashore I wouldn't like
to have on my conscience to have charge of that young chap, d'ye see;
and as for Tom Snell, he'll speak for himself.  Betty Snell kept him
straight, there's no doubt of it; but now she's gone, poor Tom's all
adrift again, and it's just a chance if he goes for to splice once more,
what sort of a wife he'll pick up.  Therefore, says I, neither Tom nor
I'm the best man to look after Billy True Blue.  But, mates," (here
Tompion stopped and struck his hands together), "I does say that I
thinks I knows who is a good man, a fit man, and a friend and messmate
of Will Freeborn, and that man is Paul Pringle.  He's what the parsons
calls a godfather, and so I take it he's a sort of a guardian like
already, and he's had charge of the little chap ever since poor Betty
and Nancy lost the number of their mess; and if Paul will take charge,
and I'm sure he will, I says, `Let him be one of the guardians.'"

Paul rose.  "Mates all," said he, giving a hitch to his waistband, "I
thanks ye.  Don't you think as long as body and soul keep together I'd
look after little Billy True Blue, who was born aboard this ship, whose
father and mother was my friends, and who, I may say, is just like a son
to me?  I know you all sees this; but, mates, I may any day slip my
cable, as you and all of us may do, but still one man's life is not so
good as three, and therefore, I says, let me have his father's friends
and messmates, Peter Ogle and Abel Bush, two good men and thorough
seamen, to help me; and I can say that I believe one and all of us will
do our duty by the boy--we'll not fail to do our best to make him an
honest man and a true sailor."

There were no dissentient voices to Paul's proposal.  Never was a
meeting for any subject held with so much unanimity.  The three
godfathers' mates were chosen as their assistant-guardians, and thus, as
far as numbers could ensure care, little True Blue had every chance of
being well looked after.



CHAPTER FIVE.

Captain Penrose was very well pleased when he heard of the arrangements
the seamen had made with regard to little Billy.  More than once,
however, he spoke to Dr Macbride and some of his officers about him in
whom he had most confidence.

"As you know," he remarked, "I am now childless, and have no kith or kin
depending on me; and if the boy turns out well, when old enough, I think
of getting him placed on the quarterdeck.  The son of many a seaman
before the mast has risen to the top of his profession.  My wife's
grandfather was a boatswain; my father-in-law, his son, was an Admiral
and a K.C.B.  He won't have interest; but if he's a good seaman, and is
always on the watch to do his duty,--to run after it, not to let duty
come to him,--he'll get on well enough, depend on that."

The fleet of Sir George Rodney was now divided.  While he despatched a
portion, under Josias Rowley, to reinforce Sir Peter Parker at Jamaica,
threatened by a powerful French squadron, he sailed with the greater
part of the remainder for New York.  It must be remembered that the
American War of Independence was then going on, and that the French had
promised to aid the insurgent colonists.

The old _Terrible_ was still on the Jamaica station; but it was
understood that she would soon be sent to join the squadron off New
York.  She and the gallant old _Thunderer_, 74, which had so long braved
the battle and the breeze, were together, the crews of both eagerly
looking out for an enemy.

There was an enemy approaching they little dreamed of.  Cape Tiburon, at
the west end of the Island of Hispaniola, or San Domingo, the name by
which it is now better known, had been sighted the day before, so that
all knew well whereabouts they were.  There was a perfect calm, and the
water was as smooth as the most polished glass--not a ripple was to be
seen on it; but yet it was not a plain, for huge undulations came
swelling up from the southern part of the Caribbean Sea, which made the
big ships roll till their lower yards almost dipped into the water.

Captain Walsingham and several of the officers of the _Thunderer_,
taking advantage of the calm, had come on board the _Terrible_ to visit
Captain Penrose and his officers.  They were a merry party; they had
done their duty nobly, and they were anticipating opportunities of doing
it again, not to speak of gaining prize-money and promotion.

"Walsingham, my dear fellow," said Captain Penrose to his younger
brother Captain as they were taking a turn on the quarterdeck after
dinner, "I do not altogether like the look of the weather.  I have, as
you know, been in these seas a good deal.  These perfect calms are often
succeeded by sudden and violent storms, often by hurricanes; and though
we may have sea-room and stout craft, in such a commotion as I have more
than once witnessed, it will require all our seamanship to keep afloat."

"No fear," answered the younger Captain, smiling, "the _Thunderer_ is
not likely to fear the fiercest hurricane that ever blew;" and he looked
with all a true seaman's pride on the noble ship, which floated so
gallantly at the distance of a few hundred fathoms.

"At all events, take an old man's counsel," said Captain Penrose,
stopping in his walk.  "I would not be so rude as unnecessarily to urge
you to leave my ship; but, my dear fellow, get on board as fast as you
can, and make her ready to encounter whatever may occur.  If the
threatenings pass off, no harm is done.  I must prepare the _Terrible_
for a gale."

Thus urged, the younger Captain could no longer decline to take the
proffered advice, but calling his officers, their boats were manned, and
they returned on board the _Thunderer_.  In the meantime, everything
that could be done was done to prepare the _Terrible_ for a fierce
contest with the elements.  Royal and topgallant-yards were sent down--
topmasts were struck, rolling tackles were made fast to all the lower
yards, and all the guns, and everything below that could move, were
secured.  A thin mist pervaded the atmosphere; the heat grew excessive;
both sky and sea became the colour of lead; and an oppressive gloom hung
over the waste of waters.  Still the wind did not stir, and even the
swell appeared to be going down.  Hour after hour passed away.

"Our skipper is a good officer, there's no doubt about it," observed
some of the younger men as they walked the forecastle.  "But he's
sometimes overmuch on the safe side, and if a moderate breeze were to
spring up, and an enemy appear in sight, she'd slip away long before we
could be in a fit state to go after her."

"You are very wise, mate, I daresay," said Abel Bush, who heard the
remark.  "But just suppose the Captain is right and you wrong, how
should we look if the squall caught us with all our light sticks aloft
and our canvas spread?  Old Harry Cane, when you meet with him in these
parts, is not a chap to be trifled with, let me tell you."

The younger seaman might have replied, but the force of Abel's argument
was considerably strengthened by a loud roaring sound which broke on
their ears.  Far, too, as the eye could reach, the ocean appeared torn
up into a vast mass of foam, which rolled on with fearful rapidity,
preceded by still higher undulations than before, which made the ship
roll, and pitch, and tumble about in a way most unusual and alarming.
The officers, speaking trumpet in hand, were issuing the necessary
orders to try and get the ship's head away from the coming blast; but
the little wind there yet was refused to fill the head sails, and only
made them beat and flap against the masts.

"I told you so, mates," said Abel Bush as he passed Ned Marline, the
young seaman who had been criticising the Captain's arrangements; "never
do you fancy that you know better than your elders till you've had as
much experience as they."

Paul Pringle had been watching the _Thunderer_.  He had served on board
her; he had many old shipmates now belonging to her; and he naturally
took a deep interest in all concerning her.

"She's a fine old ship, that she is!" he exclaimed as he cast a last
glance at the gallant seventy-four, before turning to attend to his
duty.

She was then not a quarter of a mile to leeward.  Now down came the fury
of the hurricane; with a roar like that of a wild beast when it springs
on its prey, the tempest struck the _Terrible_.  The headsails, which
alone were set, in an instant were blown from the boltropes, and flew
like fleecy clouds far away down to leeward.  The helm was put up, but
the ship refused to answer it.  The tempest struck her on the side.  The
stout masts bent and quivered in spite of all the shrouds and stays
which supported them, and then over she heeled, till the yardarms
touched the seething ocean.  Fore and aft she was covered with a mass of
foam, while the waters rushed exultantly into her ports, threatening to
carry her instantly to the bottom.  The crew hurried to secure the
ports.  Many poor fellows were carried off while making the attempt.  In
vain Captain Penrose and his officers exerted themselves to wear the
ship.  Like a helpless log she lay on the foaming ocean.  While still
hoping to avoid the last extreme resource of cutting away the masts, the
carpenter appeared on the quarterdeck with an expression of
consternation on his countenance.

"What has happened below, Chips?" asked Captain Penrose.

"Twelve feet water in the hold, and rapidly gaining on us," was the
answer.

"It is probably the water which has got in through the ports; but man
the pumps: we must get it out again as fast as we can," answered the
Captain.

"They'll not work while the ship is in this position, sir," said the
carpenter.

"Oh, well, then, we must get her out of it!" cried Captain Penrose in a
cheerful voice, though his heart was heavy.  "All hands stand by to cut
away the masts."

The order was repeated from mouth to mouth, for no voice could have been
heard along the deck.  The carpenter once more went below to sound the
well.  He shortly returned with even a worse report than the first.  The
order was therefore given to cut away the masts.  He sprang to his post
at the mizen-mast, which was to go first; but, just as he was about to
cut, the ship righted with a sudden jerk, which well-nigh sent everybody
off his legs.  All believed that the dreaded resource would not be
required, but still the helm was useless, and therefore the ship could
not be got before the wind.  Not a minute had passed before she was once
more struck on the opposite side with a still more furious blast of the
hurricane.  Over the big ship heeled to it, till first the foremast went
by the head, carrying all the topmast rigging over the bows; the
mainmast followed, going by the board, and the mizen-mast was quickly
dragged after it, the falling masts wounding and killing many of the
crew, and carrying several overboard.  Not a moment, however, was lost,
before, led by the officers, all were engaged with axes and knives in
clearing the wreck.  But now the seas leaped up furiously round the
labouring ship, tossing her huge hull wildly here and there, as if she
had been merely some small boat left helplessly to become their sport.

Now, for the first time, Paul Pringle and others bethought them of
looking for the _Thunderer_.  So full of salt spray was the air that
they could scarcely make her out, near as she was to them; then on a
sudden they saw her dark hull surrounded by the seething foam, but her
stout masts were not visible.  She, as they had been, was on her
beam-ends.  Suddenly she, too, righted; up rose the masts, in all their
height and symmetry it seemed.

"She has come off scatheless!" cried one or two.

"No, no, mates!" cried Paul Pringle in a tone of anguish.  "See! see!
heaven have mercy on their souls!"

Down, down, sank the big hull; gradually tier after tier disappeared;
the foaming waters leaped over the decks--the tall masts followed--
down--down--down--and in another instant the spot where the brave old
_Thunderer_ had floated was vacant, and seven hundred human beings were
hurried at once into eternity.  In vain could the crew of the _Terrible_
hope to render them assistance--the same fate at any moment might be
theirs.  No one had even time to mourn the loss of their countrymen and
friends.  Every nerve must be strained to keep their own ship afloat.
Still the water rushed in.

The opinion became general that a butt had been started, (that is, the
end of a plank), and that the ship must go down.  Even Captain Penrose
could no longer conceal from himself that such was too probably the
case.  He, however, and his officers exerted themselves to the utmost to
maintain discipline--no easy task under such circumstances in those
days, when men who had braved death over and over again in battle with
the greatest coolness and intrepidity, have been known to break open the
spirit stores with the object of stupefying their minds with liquor to
avoid facing the king of terrors.

Fiercer and fiercer raged the hurricane, and now all hopes of saving the
ship, or of preserving their own lives, were almost abandoned.  Paul
Pringle, with Abel Bush and Peter Ogle, were seen to be very busy.  They
were collecting such shattered spars and small ropes, and casks and
other articles, as they could most easily lay hands on.  These they
quickly converted into a small but very strong raft, with a sort of
bulwark all round it.  In one of the casks they stowed a keg of water,
and some biscuits and beef; and in another they stuffed the bedding of a
hammock and some blankets; and they stepped a mast on the little raft,
and secured a flag to it.  The raft might, probably, have borne four or
five men, but there was only sitting room for one just alongside the
cask which had the bedding in it.  When all was ready, Paul Pringle
disappeared into the Captain's cabin, and returned carrying in his arms
Billy True Blue, followed by Sam Smatch, who had his fiddle and bow
tucked under his arm.

"Now, Sam," said Paul, pointing to the raft, "you see that.  You didn't
enter to do a seaman's duty; so you, if any one ought, may quit the
ship.  Now, you see, none on us knows what moment she may be going down;
and so, Sam, just jump into this raft and make yourself fast, so that no
sea can wash you off, and take Billy True Blue with you.  Though he's on
the ship's books, he isn't entered to do duty; so he may quit her
without any shame or disgrace, d'ye see.  Bear a hand now, Sam."

The black did as he was bid; and having secured his beloved fiddle in
one of the casks, held out his arms to receive little True Blue.  Paul
for some instants could not bring himself to part with the child.  He
pressed his lips to its little mouth as a fond mother might do; and then
Peter and Abel followed his example with no less signs of affection; but
a cry which ascended from below, that the ship was settling down fast,
hurried their proceedings.

"There, Sam, take him," said Paul with a tone of deep feeling, giving up
the child to the black.  "Watch over him, Sam, for he's a jewel, mind
that.  You may be driven ashore on that island out there, and as you
know the lingo of the people, you may do bravely among them.  Your
fiddle will stand you in good stead wherever you go, and you may play
them into good humour.  But mind you, Sam, as soon as you can, you are
to get to a British port, and to go aboard a man-of-war, and say who the
boy is, and what he is, and how he's to be brought up; and try and find
out any old shipmates of mine, or Peter's, or Abel's, or the Captain's--
for I know he'll join us--and say that it was our last dying message,
just before the waters closed over us, that they would stand in our
shoes and look after the boy.  We trust you, Sam.  You loves the boy.  I
knows you do.  You'll be faithful, lad?"

"Yes, Paul; so help me, I will," answered Sam with much feeling,
pressing his shipmate's hand held out to him.

"Stay," said Paul suddenly, "you shall not go alone, Sam.  There's
another who loves little True Blue, and as he's one of the youngest in
the ship, no one will complain that he has a chance of his life given
him.  It's Natty Garland.  Has any one seen Natty Garland?"

The young midshipman was nowhere to be found.  The Captain highly
approved of Paul's proposals, and men hurried off in every direction to
look for the lad.

The Captain retired to his cabin to write a hasty despatch, describing
the condition of his ship.  He expected that it would be the last he
should ever indite.  "I will entrust this with the young boy," he said
to himself.  "I am sure the explanations it will give will exonerate me
for the loss of the ship."

When he returned on deck, the midshipman had not been found.  The
Captain was about to give his despatch to Sam, when two men returned,
bringing young Garland with them.  They found him between two of the
guns on the middle deck almost stunned from a fall.  Had they not
arrived when they did, he very likely would have been washed through a
port and drowned.  He soon recovered in the air, and was told what was
proposed.

"To leave the ship while others stay?" he exclaimed.  "No, no.  I am an
officer, and it is my duty to stick by the ship to the last."

"Right, Garland," said the Captain, taking his hand warmly.  "But I do
not propose that you should leave the ship till she will no longer
float; and then I have to entrust you with a despatch, which you must
deliver to the Admiral, and explain how the ship was lost."

"I will obey your orders, sir," cried the boy, bursting into tears; "but
I would rather stick to the ship like the rest and go down in her, if go
she must."

"Maybe the ship won't go down, though," said Sam.

As Sam spoke, the fury of the hurricane seemed slightly to decrease.
The Captain and officers again felt some hopes of saving the ship, by
heaving overboard the upper deck guns which could be most easily got at.
It was a desperate resource, as the ship would thus be left utterly
helpless and a prey to the meanest enemy; still it was better than
allowing her to go to the bottom.  As she rolled, now one gun, now
another, was cast loose, run out, and let slip through the ports.  It
was difficult work, for one gun slipping on board and getting loose
might create the most desperate havoc and confusion.  Several guns had
been sent plunging into the ocean, when the Captain gave the order to
hold fast.  Suddenly, as the hurricane began, it ceased.  The ship
rolled and tumbled about as violently as ever, having no masts to steady
her; but some minutes passed and she had not sunk lower in the water;
her pumps were got to work steadily; all hands which could be spared
were sent with buckets to the lower-deck to bale away; and though at
first the impression they made did not appear on so large a bulk of
water, it was soon evident they assisted the pumps in gaining on the
leaks.

No one, with but one exception, was idle.  Everybody was straining every
nerve to keep the ship afloat, and to clear her of the wreck of her
masts.  The only exception was Sam Smatch.  Not aware that the state of
affairs had much improved, he sat, as ordered, on the raft, holding
little True Blue, and expecting every moment to feel the ship sinking
from under him.

Bravely and energetically the men laboured on.  Once more the ship
floated nearly at her usual level; but the continued clank of the pumps
showed that it was only while they were kept going constantly that she
would do so.  The hurricane, with loud mutterings in the distance, died
away, and the jury-masts being got up, a light wind from the eastward
enabled a course to be steered for Jamaica.  Paul had come and released
Sam, and sent him with the child into the cabin.

"Gentlemen," said the Captain to his officers assembled round him, "a
merciful Providence has preserved our lives.  Every man has done his
duty; but let us not boast that it is owing to our own strength or
exertions that our ship is still afloat.  Our fate might have been that
which I fear has overtaken the _Thunderer_.  Alas! we shall have a sad
account to give of her."  Captain Penrose surmised too truly what had
happened.  Neither the _Thunderer_ nor a single man of her crew was ever
heard of again.



CHAPTER SIX.

The _Terrible_ was with difficulty kept afloat while jury-masts were
being got up, and sails were made to carry her to Jamaica.  Never had
her brave crew felt so unwilling to meet a foe; but, as Tom Snell, the
boatswain's mate, observed:

"What is sauce to the goose is sauce to the gander, d'ye see, mates; and
the chances are that all ships afloat are likely to be pretty evenly
tarred with the same brush."

So it proved.  The French suffered as severely as the English.  Many
vessels of each nation, both men-of-war and merchantmen, were cast away;
in some cases the whole of the crew perishing, in others a few only
escaping.

Little True Blue had, therefore, at a very early age, to encounter "the
battle and the breeze."

"He was just beginning to get the use of his sea-legs," as Paul
observed; and it was his great amusement and that of the boy's other
guardians, as well as of Sam Smatch, and occasionally of the other men,
to teach him to employ them.  They would sit on the deck in a circle,
and, stretching out their arms, let him run about between them.  First
he began by merely crawling, and that he did at a very rapid rate; then
he got up by degrees and worked his way along their legs, and in a week
or two afterwards he could move about between them; but great was the
delight of the honest Jacks when he discarded even this support, and
toddled boldly from one to the other with a true nautical roll.  What
shouts of laughter--what applause was elicited at his performances! and
Billy was almost smothered by their beards as they kissed him as a
reward for his success.  Even at this early age, Billy showed, as most
children do, a strong inclination to have his own way; but, loving him
heartily as they did, they had been too well disciplined themselves to
allow him to have it, and no one kept him more strictly in order than
did Paul Pringle himself.

Sam Smatch would have done his best to spoil him; but he got for his
pains several severe pulls by the ears, boxes on the cheek, and kicks on
the shins, so at last he fortunately was compelled to exert his
authority and to report him to his head guardians.  Billy was a noble
little fellow; but he no more nearly approached perfection than does any
child of Adam.  Billy was destined to experience, before long, more of
the ups and downs of a naval career.

It was on the 25th of August 1781, that the _Terrible_, forming one of
Rear-Admiral Sir Samuel Hood's squadron, arrived off the Chesapeake, and
then proceeded to Sandy Hook, where they joined Rear-Admiral Graves,
who, being senior officer, became commander-in-chief and sailed in quest
of the enemy.  Paul Pringle and the rest of the crew of the _Terrible_
were eager once more to meet the foe.

"Here we've been a-cruising up and down these two years, and never once
been able to get alongside them Frenchmen, to have a regular-built
stand-up fight!" exclaimed Paul as he and Abel Bush and one or two
others were stretching their legs on the forecastle.

"I should just like to show a Monsieur to Billy, and tell him all about
them," observed Abel.  "We can't begin too soon to teach him how he
ought to feel for them.  I knows well enough that we mustn't make him
hate them, because, d'ye see, they are our enemies; but we may show him
how he must try and give them a sound drubbing whenever he can catch
them, because that's his duty to his country, and it's good for them to
pull down their pride, d'ye see."

Abel's opinion was loudly echoed by all his hearers.  There soon
appeared every probability of the wishes of the old _Terribles_ being
accomplished.  Early on the morning of the 6th of September, the French
fleet was discovered at anchor across the Chesapeake, extending in a
long line from Cape Henry to the Middle Ground.

The British ships were cleared for action, and stood towards the enemy.
When the French perceived them, they also got under weigh and stood to
sea, their line being formed as the ships drew from under the land.  It
was a fine sight to see the two fleets thus approaching each other in
battle array.  The hearts of the British tars warmed at it--their
courage rose.

"We must have Billy up and show it to him!" exclaimed Paul Pringle to
Peter Ogle.  "Here, boy, you just run below and tell Sam Smatch to come
up with the child.  The Monsieurs won't begin to open fire yet, and it
will do his heart good to see the sight--that it will."

Sam in a short time appeared with Billy in his arms on the forecastle.

"You don't want to keep a baby up here while de enemy is firing at us,
Paul?" said Sam, with his teeth giving signs of an inclination to
chatter.

"No fear, Sam," answered Paul with a quizzical look at the black.
"We'll take care that no harm comes to you and the baby."

He called him the baby; but little True Blue was now able to understand
much that was said to him, while he could talk in a fashion of his own.
Though his sentences were not very long, his friends understood well
enough what he meant to say; and, judging by their shouts of laughter,
it might be supposed that his remarks were witty in the extreme.

Paul now lifted him up in his arms, and pointed to the French fleet.

"See here, Billy," said he, "look out there at the Monsieurs.  You must
learn to drub them some day, mind you, if we don't do it just now.  You
knows what I mean?"

"Ay, ay," answered Billy, doubling his little fists; "Billy fight en'y--
fight Fen!"

The sentiment was received with the loudest applause by the crew.  On
the Captain inquiring what had occurred, "It's little Billy True Blue,
sir, standing up and a-swearin' as how he'll drub the Frenchmen," was
the answer.

Even Captain Penrose at such a moment, which must be awful to all
thinking men when about to engage in deadly combat with an enemy, could
not help smiling at the account, however much he might be inclined to
doubt the correctness of the assertion.

"Let him get a little bigger before we try his metal," he replied.
"Take him below at once.  We are nearing the enemy's line, and shall
soon have their shot come rattling aboard us."

The day had drawn on before the two hostile fleets could approach each
other; but the rear ships, from want of wind, were far astern when the
_Princessa_, _Shrewsbury_, _Intrepid_, and _Montague_, leading, followed
closely by the _Terrible_ and _Ajax_, got into action and bore the whole
fire of the van and centre of the French fleet.  Right gallantly did the
English tars stand to their guns; and seldom have they had more need of
their boasted courage.  Round-shot and chain-shot and langridge came
showering thickly down upon them.  The English line was to windward, and
might easily have got out of the fight; but this the Captains disdained
to do, though anxiously looking for the assistance of their friends.
The wind more than once shifted, and each time that it did so, it
enabled the French to bring more of their ships down on the English
centre, especially on the _Terrible_.  She looked like some noble
monster brought to bay.  Although with one opponent abeam, and two
others on her bows, and another on her quarter, pouring their shot in
upon her, not a man flinched from his gun.  Numbers fell, killed or
wounded, but their places were instantly supplied by their shipmates.
Several guns were dismounted, but others were got over from the opposite
side, and fought with the most determined spirit.  The brave old Captain
walked the quarterdeck as coolly as if no enemy was in sight, casting an
eye aloft every now and then, to assure himself that the flag, which he
had resolved should fly to the last, was still untouched.

Paul Pringle was one of the quartermasters at the helm.  Several
shipmates and friends had fallen around him.  He saw the enemy's shot
striking the ship's sides between wind and water, and he could not help
feeling the very perilous position in which the old ship was placed.  In
spite, however, of the tumult, the death and havoc which raged around
him, his thoughts turned anxiously towards his little charge down in the
distant hold.  "Well, if the Captain goes, and I go, and we all go who
have charge of him, there is One above who will look after him and tend
him better than we can," he said more than once to himself.  "Still I
wish he were safe out of this.  For myself, I'd as lief go down with my
colours flying as strike them; but that would be hard for him, and yet
the old ship seems very uneasy.  Heaven watch over him and protect him!"

As Paul said this to himself, a shot came flying from the ship on the
_Terrible's_ quarter.  Suddenly Paul was torn from his hold of the
wheel, and, with two other men, was seen struggling on the other side of
the deck.  Captain Penrose had at that moment faced aft and seen what
had occurred.

"Paul Pringle gone!" he said sadly to himself.  "A better seaman never
died fighting for his country."

Scarcely had the well-merited eulogium passed his lips, than, from among
the mangled forms of his shipmates, and covered from head to foot with
their still warm blood, up sprang Paul himself, and with a bound
returned to the wheel, the spokes of which he grasped firmly, singing
out with stentorian voice and a prolonged cadence, "Steady!" as he
passed them rapidly round.

The man who had been ordered to take his place stopped when he saw him,
with a look of amazement, uncertain whether it was his ghost or not.

"It's myself, Jack," said he; "but it was a near touch and go, and for
some moments never did I expect to be on my legs again, let me tell you,
lad."

Still hotter and hotter grew the fight; but the firing sent down the
little air that there had been, and it fell so that no more of the
British ships could get up to the support of those engaged.  Still the
van and centre bravely supported the unequal fight.  The carpenter came
and reported to the Captain that he had sounded the well, and that the
water was gaining rapidly on the ship.

"Man the pumps, then, Mr Chips, and try and clear her," was the answer.

Some men were at once told off for that purpose, ill as they could be
spared from the guns, and sent below.

Scarcely had they set to work when a shot came in, carrying off the
heads of several of them; another shortly followed and destroyed the
pumps.  Mr Chips and the survivors, with some of his crew whom he
collected, strenuously exerted themselves to repair the damage; but it
was a long time before they could get the pumps to work.

All this time little Billy remained with Sam in the hold.  Billy, it
must be confessed, began to cry at the din and uproar, for he could not
make out what it all meant; and the teeth of the poor black, who knew
too well, began to chatter in right earnest, and his heart to quake.  It
was, in truth, a very trying time for Sam.  He had a lantern with him,
but it gave a very dim, uncertain light; and from the crashing just
above his head, and the rushing sound close to his ear, he knew that the
shots were finding their way in between wind and water, and that the
latter element was gaining a rapid entrance into the ship.  Every now
and then the splinters, and occasionally also a shot, which fell through
the hatchways, showed him that death was being dealt rapidly around just
above him; and he dared not therefore move, as he wished to do, to the
orlop-deck, into which the shot of an enemy does not often find its way.
Then, again, the sound of the water washing about below his feet
alarmed him.  He began to anticipate the most dreadful of fates.

"De poor little Billy and I will be drowned down here in dis dark hole,
and no one come to look for us.  What me do?  Oh dear! oh dear!  Poor
little Billy!"

Then he wrung his hands bitterly, while Billy stood between his knees,
looking up inquiringly into his face, and wondering what made him so
unhappy.  Then Billy cried himself, not exactly knowing why.  Then he
stopped and endeavoured, as far as his knowledge of language would carry
him, to ask Sam what was the matter.

"No ask, Billy--no ask," answered Sam, shaking his head mournfully.  "De
old ship very ill--hear how she groan and cry!"

Indeed, the sounds which reached their ears were very appalling.  The
ship herself groaned and moaned as the water rushed through her, and the
pent-up air made its escape, and the bulkheads creaked loudly, and then
from above came the saddest shrieks and cries.  They were from the
cockpit, where the poor mangled fellows who had been brought below were
placed under the hands of the surgeons.  Besides all this, there was the
unceasing roar and reverberation of the guns, shaking the ship's sides
as if they were about to fall to pieces; while there was the rattle of
shot, and the crash and tearing of planks, and the rending asunder of
stout timber.

In time Billy got accustomed to the sounds, and did not seem to connect
them with any especial danger to himself and his friends.  Not so poor
Sam, who grew more and more alarmed, and not without reason; for
although he was unable to ascertain how the battle itself might
terminate, he saw too evidently that unless it was shortly brought to an
end, and the crew were able to exert themselves in keeping her afloat,
the ship would go down with all on board still fighting on her decks.
Anxiously he waited.  There seemed to be no cessation of firing.  Then,
taking Billy in his arms, he exclaimed, "Better be shot than stay and
drown here!" and rushed frantically up the hatchway ladders.

"Down, Sam--down!  Is the boy mad?" exclaimed several who saw him.
"You'll be having little Billy hit if you don't take care, Sam."

"No, Sam not mad; but de ship is sinking!" he cried out.  "De ship is
sinking, I say!"

These sounds very soon reached the ears of the Captain.

"Then we'll sink with her, my boys!" he exclaimed; "for strike that
glorious flag of ours while I'm alive, I will not.  Fight to the last,
my lads, say I; and let us show the boasting Frenchmen what they are to
expect from every ship they attack before they can hope to take her."

The officers and men who stood near echoed the sentiment, and from gun
to gun along the decks it flew, till the whole ship's company broke
forth into one loud enthusiastic cheer.

Probably the Frenchmen heard it; but they continued firing with effect,
till suddenly their helms were put up, and, their rigging being in far
better condition than that of the English, away they stood before the
wind towards the mouth of the Chesapeake; and as the shades of night
were rapidly closing down on the world of waters, they were soon hid
from sight.  The English seamen, as they receded into obscurity, looked
at the enemy with hatred and contempt.  Forbidden by the Admiral to
follow, and in truth unable to do so, they felt like chained mastiffs
bearded in their kennels by a pack of yelping hounds, who have carried
off their bones and pretty severely handled them at the same time.  It
must be confessed, indeed, that although the French could not claim a
victory, they decidedly had the best of it in the fight, their ships
having suffered much less than those of the English.

The Count de Grasse, in the _Ville de Paris_, commanded, and he gained
his object of landing a body of troops to assist the Americans, which
contributed so much to their success over Lord Cornwallis.

Once more the British ships were left alone, the enemy having, to all
appearance, vanished into thin air.  The reports brought from time to
time to Captain Penrose were truly disheartening.  With many men killed,
and still greater numbers wounded, and the rest pretty well knocked up
with their exertions, it was difficult work to keep the pumps going, by
which alone the ship could be saved from going down.  There was to be no
slumber or rest for any one during all that night; and the Captain and
officers could only feel thankful that a gale did not spring up, or that
the enemy did not come out and have a brush with them.

When morning broke, the signal for the fleet to get more to windward and
to repair damages was flying at the masthead of the flagship.  The order
was obeyed, and all the day was spent in plugging shot-holes, and in
bending new sails or mending rent ones, and in reeving fresh running
rigging.  Captain Penrose, with an excusable feeling, could not bring
himself to reveal the condition of the old _Terrible_ to the Admiral.

"If we must go down, let us first get alongside the enemy, and then,
yardarm to yardarm, let us both go down together, or carry her by
boarding, and win a new ship for ourselves!" he exclaimed while talking
the matter over with his officers.

The idea was approved of by all of them, and they all expressed a hope
that the opportunity might be allowed them of carrying it into
execution.  As was intended, it was repeated to the men, and soon passed
along the decks, all joining heartily in the wish that, they might thus
have the chance of punishing the enemy.

"But what is to be done with little Billy True Blue?" inquired Sam
Smatch.  "He can't board with the rest, I guess."

"No, Sam; but we will have a bodyguard for him," observed Peter Ogle.
"When Paul Pringle comes for'ard, we'll ax him what he says to it.  When
we board and drive the Frenchmen before us, the bodyguard, with Billy in
the middle, must follow closely after; and then, d'ye see, we shall win
a prize, take care of Billy, and lick the Frenchmen all under one."

When Paul Pringle heard of the plan, he highly approved of it, at the
same time that he put the question, "Who's to take care of Billy, mates,
and form this same bodyguard you speak of?"

Now, of course, everybody would wish to do the fighting part, and to be
among the first on board the enemy's ship.  Who would form the
bodyguard?  That was a poser.  Of course Sam Smatch would be one; but
then by himself he would not be of much use, as his wooden leg might
chance to stick in a hole and stop his progress.  At last they agreed to
refer the matter to the Captain, and to get him to tell off a body of
men for that purpose.

Paul Pringle was selected to be the bearer of the message.  Hat in hand,
he stood before his Captain.

"What is it, Pringle?" asked the old man.

"Why, sir, please you, I be come about the business of the ship's child,
sir, Billy True Blue," began Paul.  "We hear as how we are to get
alongside an enemy and to take her, and we've been thinking how we are
to get little Billy safe aboard if the _Terrible_, bless her old ribs!
was for to take it into her head to go down; and we thinks as how if he
was to have a bodyguard, whose business was to keep round him and look
after him, seeing as how Sam Smatch can't do that same by himself, that
it would be the best thing for the youngster we can arrange."

Much more to the same effect Paul explained; and the Captain finally
promised that if there was a chance of getting alongside an enemy, he
would appoint some men to the duty.

"And what is more, I will place the party under command of Mr Garland,"
said the Captain.  "Billy is such a pet with him, that I am sure he will
do his best to defend him."

"That I know he will, sir!" exclaimed Paul.  "That will just do, sir.
None on 'em will fight the worse for knowing how kind you've been to
us--that they won't;" and honest Paul scraped his way out of the cabin.

The enemy, however, showed no inclination to give them the chance they
wished for.  Although Admiral Graves kept his fleet sailing up and down
in front of them, they continued to leeward, without any attempt to
approach.  The Count de Grasse was more intent on carrying out his
immediate object of effecting the safe debarkation of the troops than in
sustaining the honour of his nation.  He was a wise man, for by risking
an action he might have been defeated and lost the attainment of both
objects.

In spite of the battered condition of the _Terrible_, she maintained her
position in the line; but she was only kept afloat by the most strenuous
and unremitting exertions of her brave crew.  Another night and day
passed, and each hour the difficulty of keeping her afloat became more
apparent.  Her masts and spars, too, were much wounded, and it became a
question how she would be able to weather even a moderate gale.  Still
the ship's company worked on cheerfully, in hopes that they might have
the chance of gaining a ship for themselves.  At length the wind fell
very light, and the Admiral, ordering the fleet to lay to, sent an
officer on board each ship which had been engaged, to inquire into her
condition and the state of the wounded.  It was a trying time when the
Captain of the flagship himself came on board the _Terrible_.  Half the
men were lying about between the guns, overcome with fatigue, while the
remainder were working away at the pumps in a way which showed that they
knew their lives depended on their exertions.  He examined the ship
below, and when he went on deck he cast his eye on the masts and spars.
He then took Captain Penrose aside, and, after talking with him, went
back to the flagship.  He soon returned, and a few more words passed
between him and the Captain.

Captain Penrose then appeared on the quarterdeck with a sorrowful
countenance.

"Gentlemen," said he with a voice almost choked with emotion, turning to
his officers, "and you, my gallant fellows, who have served with me so
long and so faithfully, I have sad news to tell you.  It is the opinion
of those competent to judge, that we cannot hope to keep the old ship
afloat much longer.  If we could put her on shore, we might save her to
carry us yet longer through the `battle and the breeze;' but we have
only a hostile shore under our lee, with an enemy's fleet in sight, far
superior to ours, and which has lately been reinforced by five
ships-of-the-line; and therefore, my friends, it has been decided that
we must abandon and destroy her."

The old man could scarcely speak for some minutes, while a general groan
ran through the ship's company.  Paul Pringle turned his eyes towards
the distant fleet of the enemy, and thought, "But why can't we get
alongside some of them Monsieurs and take a ship for ourselves?  We'd do
it--we knows we could, if the Captain would give the word."

The men were mistaken; but the expressions to which they gave vent
showed the spirit which animated them.

"Now, my lads," continued the Captain, "the boats of the squadron will
soon be alongside.  Each man will have ready his bag and hammock; the
officers their clothes, nautical instruments, and desks.  One thing I
promise you,--and that's a satisfaction to all, I know, boys, as it is
to me,--that, come what may, our stout old ship, which has carried us so
long through the tempest and the fight, will never fall into the hands
of our enemies."

The last remark was received with a loud shout, which seemed, as it was
intended to do, to relieve the spirits of the men.

"Well, lads," the Captain went on, "I wish that I had nothing more
painful to say; but another bad part of the business is, that I must be
separated from the larger number of you who have served with me so
bravely and faithfully.  I am appointed to the _Fame_, whose Captain has
been badly wounded, and will go home; and I may take with me one hundred
and ten men--the rest will be distributed among the ships of the fleet
short of their complement.  The first lieutenant will call over the
names of those selected to go with me; but, lads,--my dear lads, who are
to be parted from me,--don't suppose that I would not gladly have you
also--ay, every one of you; and wherever you go, you will, I am sure,
prove a credit to the ship you have served in, and the Captain you have
served under."

The Captain could not go on, and many a rough seaman passed the collar
of his jacket across his eyes; and then, led by Tom Snell, they gave
three thundering cheers for the Captain and officers of the dear old
ship they were going to leave for ever.

In a short time the boats of the squadron came alongside.  The
intermediate period had been spent in getting their bags and bedding
ready, and now all stood prepared for the word to step into the boats.
Of course the Captain had chosen Paul Pringle; so he had Abel Bush, and
Peter Ogle, and Tom Snell, and the other assistant-guardians of little
Billy, while Sergeant Bolton with some of his marines were drafted into
his new ship, and Sam Smatch was thrown in to the bargain.

Captain Penrose had chosen Natty Garland to be among the officers to
accompany him.  He had called him up before the ship was abandoned.

"Most of your messmates and friends are appointed to other ships,
Garland," he said; "I can probably get you a berth on board nearly any
you may like to name, or, if you like to follow your old Captain's
fortunes, I will take you with me."

"Oh, sir, I will go with you without a moment's doubt!" answered the
young midshipman warmly.  "I am sure, wherever you are, I shall find the
right sort of work to be done."

"I trust you may, my lad," answered the old man, smiling and putting out
his hand.  From that time he became a greater friend than ever of the
brave boy.

The _Fame_ now bore down to receive her new Captain and the addition to
her ship's company.  Three of the _Terrible's_ officers accompanied
their Captain; the rest were distributed among the vacancies in the
fleet.  There floated the old _Terrible_, with her well-riddled and torn
sails furled, but her pendant, and ensign, and Union-Jack still flying
at her peak and mastheads.  She was deserted.  The lieutenants, with the
master-at-arms and the quartermasters, had gone round her decks to
assure themselves that no human being remained in her.  The shot, too,
had been withdrawn from all the guns; and such things belonging to her
as could be more easily removed had been carried away.  Now the four
lieutenants in as many boats returned.  Accompanied by picked men, they
went to different parts of the ship.  As they walked along her silent
decks, the groans and sighs which rose from below made their hearts feel
sad.  They descended to different parts of the hold, and, each
collecting such combustible materials as they could find, set fire to
them and hastily retreated.  Once more they returned to the boats and
pulled away for the _Fame_.  Night was coming rapidly on.  Scarcely had
they reached the deck of the _Fame_ before flames burst forth from every
part of the _Terrible_, Brighter and fiercer they grew.  Now they found
their way through the hatchways and climbed up the masts and rigging;
they twisted and turned along the bowsprit and out to the taffrail.
Still by their glare could be seen the victorious flag of England waving
proudly in the breeze.

Now, fore and aft, the old _Terrible_ was one mass of flame,--a huge
pyramid of fire,--which shed a lurid glare on the clouds above, on the
surrounding water, and on the white sails and dark hulls of the ships.
Suddenly there was a concussion which shook the very atmosphere, and
made the ships roll and shiver as if struck with an ague.  Now up in one
mass of fire rose the upper deck, and masts, and spars, high into the
air, where for an instant they hung suspended, and then, bursting into
millions of burning fragments, down they came, scattered far and wide,
hissing into the ocean.  Here and there, for a few minutes, some shining
flames could be seen scattered about; but they quickly disappeared, the
hull itself sank, and now but a very few charred fragments remained of
the fine old _Terrible_.  A groan burst from the bosoms of the gallant
tars who had lately manned her, joined in equally by her Captain; and
Billy True Blue, breaking into a flood of tears, was carried still
inconsolable to his hammock.



CHAPTER SEVEN.

Sir George Rodney remained, from ill health, for some time in England,
and the British squadrons on the West India and American stations were
engaged chiefly during that time in guarding the Island of Jamaica from
the contemplated attacks of the French.  Captain Penrose soon taught his
new ship's company to love and trust him as much as the old one had
done.  The _Fame_ was constantly and actively engaged, and he took good
care, as usual, that the weeds should not grow under her bottom.

Billy True Blue was all this time rapidly growing in size and strength,
and in knowledge of affairs in general.

Time passed on.  Sir George Rodney returned from England and took
command of the West India fleet.  The French still intended to take
Jamaica, but had not, and he resolved, if some thousand brave British
sailors in stout ships could prevent them, that they should not.  With
this object in view, he assembled all his ships at the Island of Saint
Lucia, where, having provisioned and watered them, he lay ready to
attack the Count de Grasse as soon as he, with his fleet, should venture
forth from Fort Royal Bay, where they had been refitting.

Paul Pringle and his shipmates were as eager as ever for the battle.

"I do wish little True Blue was big enough to join in the fight--that I
do, even if it were only as a powder-monkey.  He'd take to it so
kindly--that he would, I know," said Peter Ogle to Paul.

"I've no doubt about that, Peter," answered his shipmate.  "But we'll
wait a bit.  He'll be big enough by and by, and we mustn't let him run
any risk yet.  We'll send him down below, as we used to do in the old
_Terrible_, with Sam Smatch.  Sam will have more difficulty in keeping
him quiet than he had then."

"But I wonder when we shall get at these Frenchmen?" said Abel Bush.
"They seem to me just as slippery as eels.  When you think you've got
them, there they are gliding past your nose, and safe and sound at
anchor under their batteries, or in some snug harbour where you can't
get at them.  Well, Paul, night and morning, I do thank heaven that I
wasn't born a Frenchman--that I do."

"Right, Abel; so do I," said Paul.  "Ah, here comes little True Blue.
Now, I'll warrant, about the whole French fleet they haven't got such a
youngster as he is--no, nor nothing like him."

"Like him!  I should think not!" cried Peter Ogle in a tone of voice
which showed that the very supposition made him indignant.  "No more
like him than a frog is like an albatross.  No, no; search the world
round, I don't care in what country, ashore or afloat, black, or brown,
or white, you won't find such another little chap for his age as Billy
True Blue."

The child, as he walked along the deck with a slight roll, which he had
learned as soon as he put his feet to the planks, seemed well deserving
of the eulogium passed on him.  He was a noble child, with a broad chest
and shoulders, a fair complexion, though somewhat bronzed already, and a
large, laughing blue eye, with a good honest, wide mouth, and teeth
which showed that he could give a good account of the beef and biscuit
which he put into it.

"Sam says I no big enough to fight de French," said Billy, pouting his
lips, as he came up to his old friends, followed closely by the black.
"I put match to gun--fire--bang.  Why no I fight?"

"Huzza, Billy!" cried Peter Ogle.  "That's the spirit.  You'd stand to
your gun as well as the best of us, I know you would.  But we can't let
you just yet, boy.  Make haste and grow big, and then if there are any
Frenchmen left to fight, with any ships to fight in, you shall fight
them, boy."

This promise did not seem at all to satisfy Billy.  He evidently
understood that the ship was likely to go into action; and though it was
a long time since he had been sent into the hold with Sam, he had a dim
recollection of the horrors of the place, and fancied that he would much
rather be with his friends on deck.  Of course Sam was ordered to take
charge of the little boy, as before.

The British had not long to wait for the expected meeting with the
enemy.  At daylight on the 8th of April 1782, the _Andromache_ frigate,
commanded by Captain Byron, appeared off Gros Islet Bay, with the signal
flying that the enemy's fleet, with a large convoy, was coming out of
Fort Royal Bay and standing to the north-west.  Instantly Sir George
Rodney made the signal to weigh, and by noon the whole fleet was clear
of the bay.  The Admiral stretched over to Fort Royal, but finding none
of the French ships there, or at Saint Pierre's, he made the signal for
a general chase.  Night came on, but still a sharp lookout was kept
ahead.

Paul Pringle and Abel Bush walked the forecastle, where the second
lieutenant of the ship was stationed with his night-glass.  The _Fame_
was one of the leading ships.  It was the middle watch.  Paul put his
hand on Abel's shoulder.  "Look out now there, mate; what do you see
now?"

"Ten, fifteen, twenty lights at least.  Huzza!  That's the enemy's
fleet.  We shall be up to them in the morning."

The lieutenant was of the same opinion, and went to make his report to
the Captain.  The men now clustered thickly on the forecastle to watch
the Jack o' Lantern-looking lights, which they hoped proceeded from the
ships with which they expected in the morning to contend.  As the mists
of night cleared away on the morning of the 9th, the French were
discovered in the passage between Dominique and Guadaloupe.  A signal
was seen flying, too, at the masthead of Sir George Rodney's ship, to
prepare for battle and to form the line.  The French convoy was made out
under Dominique, but the ships of war appeared forming their line to
windward and standing over to Guadaloupe.

Unfortunately, however, the British fleet got becalmed for some time
under the high lands of Dominique, and unable to get into their
stations.  The instant, however, that the welcome breeze at length
reached the van division under Sir Samuel Hood, he stood in in gallant
style and closed with the enemy's centre.  By noon the action had
commenced in earnest, and was maintained by this division alone for
upwards of an hour without any support from the rest of the squadron,
the gallant _Barfleur_ being for most of the time hotly engaged with
three ships firing their broadsides at her.  At length the leading ships
of the centre got the breeze, and were able to come to the support of
the van.  Many of the French ships even fought well and gallantly, but,
in spite of their superiority in numbers, were very roughly handled.  In
consequence of this, when the Count de Grasse saw the rear of the
British fleet coming fast up, having the weather-gage, he hauled his
wind and withdrew out of shot.  Two of the French ships were, however,
so much cut up in hull and rigging that they were compelled to leave the
fleet and put into Guadaloupe.

Nothing could exceed the disappointment and rage of the British seamen
at this proceeding.  They had made sure of victory, and now to have the
enemy run away and leave them in the lurch was provoking beyond all
bearing.

Several British ships had suffered--the _Royal_ and the _Montague_, and
the _Alfred_ especially, Captain Bayne, who commanded her, being killed.
Still the crews entreated that they might not be sent into port, and,
with the true spirit of British seamen, undertook to repair damages at
sea, in which request they were seconded by their officers.  For two
days they were at work without cessation, making sail, however, whenever
they could, and beating to windward in the direction the French fleet
had gone.

The enemy were carrying all the sail they could press on their ships;
and by the evening of the 10th they had weathered the Saintes, a group
of rocks and islets between Dominique and Guadaloupe, and were nearly
hull down.

Towards noon of next day the officers were seen to have their glasses
more frequently and intently fixed on them; and by degrees, while the
main body grew less and less distinct in the blue haze of the tropics,
two ships, with their topmasts down, were perceived standing out in bold
relief, and therefore known to be considerably to leeward of the rest,
and much nearer the British.  The breeze since the morning had been
increasing to a fresh and steady gale.

With unbounded satisfaction the seamen saw the signal thrown out from
the flagship for a general chase.  The gallant _Agamemnon_, now
beginning to earn her well-merited renown, with the noble _Fame_, and
other ships forming Admiral Drake's division, were ahead of the rest of
the fleet.  Crowding all sail with eager haste, they dashed on to secure
their hoped-for prey.  They saw the disabled Frenchmen making signals,
calling their countrymen to their relief.

It was a period of intense anxiety; for the doubt was whether the Count
de Grasse would abandon his ships to their fate or bear down to their
relief, and thus lessen the distance between the enemy and himself.
Eagerly they were watched.  There remained no doubt that the English
would cut off the two disabled Frenchmen, when gradually the bows of the
distant ships of the enemy were seen to come round, and the Count de
Grasse, adopting the nobler course, came bearing down under a press of
sail to attempt the rescue of his friends.

"Now, gentlemen, we shall have them!" exclaimed Captain Penrose in a
cheerful voice as he walked the quarterdeck with some of his officers.
"Before this time to-morrow we shall have fought an action which will, I
trust, be for ever celebrated in the annals of English history."

Down came the Frenchmen in gallant style, faster than they expected; and
the more experienced saw, from the scattered positions of the British
ships, that the result of an action at that moment would have been very
doubtful.  Intense, however, was the disappointment of the greater
number, when, towards evening, the leading ships of the two fleets being
not a mile apart, they saw the signal of recall made.

Captain Penrose smiled at the impatience of his officers and men.

"I know Rodney pretty well by this time," he remarked.  "He is as eager
for the fight as any of us, but he is no less anxious for the victory,
and knows that will best be obtained by forming a compact line.  See!
what do those signals he is now making mean?"

"To form the line of battle," answered the signal-officer.

"All right, master.  Place us as soon as possible in our proper
position," said the Captain.  "What's that signal now?"

"Ships to work to windward under all sail," was the answer.

It soon became too dark to make out any further signals, so the fleet
continued, as last directed, to beat up in the direction of the enemy
all night.  When dawn broke on the 12th, a French ship of the line was
discovered in a disabled condition, towed by a frigate, a considerable
distance to leeward of the main body of the French fleet.

Directly a signal could be seen, Admiral Rodney made one for the four
leading ships of the fleet to chase, in order to capture the two
Frenchmen.  It was the same drama enacted as on the previous day.  It
would have been a stain on the white lilies of France had the Count de
Grasse allowed his two ships to be captured; and therefore, once more,
to the great delight of the British, he bore up with his whole fleet for
their protection.

There seemed no longer a possibility of a general action being avoided.
The signal was made, ordering the British ships to their stations, and a
close line ahead was formed on the starboard tack, the enemy being on
the larboard.  Rear-Admiral Drake, in the _Princessa_, 70 guns,
commanded the Blue Division; the van, which was led by the noble
_Marlborough_, followed closely by the _Arrogant_, _Conqueror_, _Fame_,
_Russell_, _Norwich_, and other ships, which, with their brave Captains,
were destined to become famous in story.

At half-past seven in the morning, Rear-Admiral Drake's division, which
led, got within range of the long-sought-for enemy, and soon from van to
rear the British ships were sending forth their terrific broadsides.
The French replied boldly; and now the two hostile fleets were wrapped
in flames and smoke, while round-shot and missiles of all descriptions
were passing between one and the other.  Both appeared to be suffering
alike, and many a brave seaman was laid low.  The _Fame_ had got early
into action, and gallantly taken up her position opposite an opponent
worthy of her.  Her brave old Captain walked the quarterdeck, calm as
usual, watching with eagle eye the progress of the engagement, and
waiting for any opportunity to alter to advantage the position of his
ship.

It was just such a fight as Paul Pringle and the crew generally had long
wished for; and fierce and bloody enough it was, too.  Of course little
Billy was down below, as secure from harm as his friends could make him.
Few of those present had ever been in a hotter or better contested
fight.  The officers, at all events, knew how much depended on the
result--the safety, probably, of all the British possessions in the West
Indies.  All the seamen thought of was, how they best could thrash the
Frenchmen; and they knew that all they had to do was to stick to their
guns and blaze away till they were ordered to stop.  Towards noon the
wind shifted, and enabled the British fleet to fetch to windward of the
enemy.

"See what that gallant fellow Gardner is about with the _Duke_,"
observed Captain Penrose to the master, who was near him.

Putting the _Duke's_ helm up, he was standing down under all sail in a
bold attempt to break the enemy's line.  There was a groan of
disappointment given by all who saw him when his maintopmast fell over
his side, and, unable to keep his position, he dropped to leeward.

Sir George Rodney in the _Formidable_, however, supported by the _Namur_
and _Canada_, was more successful.  Keeping up a terrific fire, he
dashed through the French line about three ships off from the _Ville de
Paris_, followed by all those in his rear; then, immediately wearing, he
doubled on the enemy again, pouring in on them his crashing broadsides.
By this bold manoeuvre the French line was broken and thrown into the
utmost confusion: their van bore away and endeavoured to reform to
leeward; but, too hotly pressed by the British ships, there seemed
little probability of their accomplishing this.

Still the Frenchmen, though evidently losing the day, fought with the
most desperate courage and resolution.  For a short time, while still
the battle was raging between many ships, the crew of the _Fame_ ceased
firing; for one opponent had sheered off whom they were unable to
follow, and another was approaching.  Whether the cessation of the roar
of the guns made Sam Smatch careless, is uncertain; but just as a
ninety-gun ship was bearing down on the gallant _Fame_, who should
appear on the quarterdeck but little Billy True Blue!  At that moment
the Frenchmen let fly a crashing broadside, speedily returned by the
crew of the _Fame_.  Round-shot and bullets were flying about like hail,
blocks and yards and splinters were rattling down from aloft, and blood
and brains and mangled limbs were being scattered here and there.
Unharmed and undaunted, the little fellow stood amid the wild uproar and
the havoc and destruction and the scenes of horror taking place on every
side.

The Captain at length turned round and saw the child standing near him.

"Oh, go below, boy! go below!  You may be hurt, my child!" he exclaimed
in a voice of the deepest concern.  He turned to young Garland, who was
near him, repeating, "Take him below instantly out of harm's way."

Billy had never disobeyed the Captain's commands before; but he
struggled violently in the midshipman's arms and cried out, "No, no!
Billy stay on deck and fight French!"

The fine old Captain was raising his hand as a sign that he must be
obeyed, when he was seen to stagger.  Nat Garland let go the child and
ran to catch him; but before he could get up, he had sunk on the deck,
just raising himself on one arm; but that slowly gave way, and he lay
still on the deck.

Billy True Blue flew up to him with a cry of grief.

"Oh, Captain, Captain, what is the matter?" he exclaimed.  Young Garland
and those who stood near with deep grief thought that their gallant
chief was dead.

"Captain, Captain, do speak--tell Billy what is the matter?" said the
child.

At length the old man opened his eyes and smiled as he saw that innocent
infantine face looking down upon him.

"Alfred--Edgar," he whispered slowly.  "Yes, dears, I know you; but I am
going--going to another world of peace and quiet, where we shall all
meet.  I have had a rough life away from you; but duty, dears, duty kept
me from home--always follow duty wherever it leads."

Billy could not make out what the Captain was talking about, and others
thought that he was speaking to him.  In a little time he came more to
himself, and they were about to take him below, but he insisted on being
left on deck.

"I am shot through and through," he said.  "I will breathe the open air
and see how the fight goes as long as I live.  But take that little boy
below out of danger."

Soon after he had spoken, he again became partly delirious, and Billy
shrieked and struggled so violently that the midshipman, who had a
fellow-feeling for him, again set him down, and he ran back to his dying
friend.

Captain Penrose now cried out for something to drink; but when it was
brought, he would take it from no hands but those of Billy.  Unconscious
or regardless of the danger which surrounded him, the child sat himself
down composedly on the deck, and continued to moisten the lips of the
old man.  Now a loud, true British hurrah ran along the decks of the
_Fame_.  Another English ship was coming up, and the crew of their
opponent, unwilling to encounter the fire of a fresh antagonist, were
hauling down her colours.  The Captain raised himself up on one arm, and
his eye fell on the white flag of France coming down from the masthead
of the enemy.

"Hurrah! hurrah! hurrah!" he feebly exclaimed.

"Hurrah! hurrah! hurrah!" shouted Billy in a shrill tone, waving his
little hat.  Then the fine old seaman fell back, and when they got up to
him he had ceased to breathe.

Hitherto Sir Samuel Hood's division had been becalmed, but now getting
the breeze, it came up in gallant style to take part in the action.
Still many of the French crews fought on with the most heroic bravery.
The _Glorieux_ especially, commanded by the Vicomte D'Escar, made a most
noble defence.  Her masts and bowsprits were shot away by the board, but
her colours were not struck till all her consorts were taken or put to
flight.  Her brave commander fell in the action.  Monsieur de Marigny in
the _Caesar_ displayed equal bravery.  Having sustained the fire of
several ships, he was, when almost a wreck, closely and vigorously
attacked by the _Centaur_.  His colours, it appeared, were nailed to the
mast; and though his men were falling thickly around him, and he himself
mortally wounded, he would not yield.

At length, several other British ships coming up, one of the French
officers cried out that the ship had surrendered, and at that moment her
brave Captain was said to have breathed his last.  No sooner did the
_Caesar_ surrender than her masts fell over the side.  The _Ardent_,
which was in the midst of the British fleet, struck to the _Belliqueux_,
an English ship with a French name, and the _Hector_, 74, to the
_Canada_, 74, commanded by Captain Cornwallis.  He, however, left his
prize to be taken possession of by the _Alcide_, and made sail after the
French Admiral in the _Ville de Paris_, who, with his seconds, was
endeavouring to rejoin his scattered and flying ships.

Boldly the brave Cornwallis approached the huge _Ville de_ _Paris_, and
right gallantly opened his fire; and so ably did he hang on her, and cut
up her sails and rigging, some other ships coming up to his support,
that it was impossible for her to escape.  Still the Comte de Grasse,
although his fine ship was almost cut to pieces and multitudes of her
crew killed, seemed determined rather to sink than to yield to any ship
under that of an Admiral's flag.  At length Sir Samuel Hood came up in
the _Barfleur_, and poured in a tremendous broadside.  Even then the
gallant Frenchman held out, firing away from both sides of his ship on
his numerous opponents for a quarter of an hour longer; when at length,
seeing that all his own ships had deserted him, and that night was
coming on, just as the sun set he hauled down his flag.

The enemy's fleet continued going off before the wind in small detached
squadrons and single ships under all the sail they could crowd, closely
pursued by the British ships, which were consequently much dispersed.

Sir George Rodney, on seeing this, made the signal to bring to, in order
to collect his fleet and secure the prizes.  The signal was seen from
many of the ships, and obeyed; but Commodore Affleck, in the _Bedford_,
with other ships which were ahead, not observing it, continued the
chase, keeping up a hot fire on the flying enemy.

"Well, mates!" exclaimed Paul Pringle, as that evening, with little
Billy on his knee, he sat at the mess-table between the guns which had
been so well served, and had served their country so well, "we've had a
great loss, for we have lost as brave a captain, and as true a man, as
ever stepped aboard of a man-of-war; yet, mates, he died as he would
have wished, in the hour of victory; and then, just think on't, we've
had as glorious a day as I'd ever wish to see.  Maybe few of us will
ever live to see another such.  But, mates, there's another thing we
have to be grateful for--that is, that our little Billy here has escaped
the Frenchmen's shot.  What should we have done if he had been killed?
It would have broken my heart, I know."

"Grappled with the first Frenchman we could have met, and blown her and
ourselves up together--that's what I'd have been inclined to do!" cried
Tom Snell, who was generally an advocate for desperate measures.  "But
how was it the little fellow got away from Sam?  How was it, Billy?"

"I ran up, and leave Sam down dere," answered Billy.

"Has anybody seen Sam since then?" asked Abel Bush.

On comparing notes, it was discovered that no one had seen the black
since the commencement of the battle.  It was agreed, therefore, that
instant search should be made for him.  Paul having procured a lantern
from the master-at-arms, the messmates went below with Billy.  They
reached the spot where the child said he had left him, but no Sam was
there.  They shouted his name through the hold, but no reply was made.
They hunted about in every direction.

"He must have gone on deck and stowed himself away somewhere," observed
Paul Pringle.

Just then Abel Bush said he heard a groan.  Going towards the spot,
there, coiled up, not far from one of the hatchways, was poor Sam.
After calling to him several times and shaking him, he lifted up his
head.

"Who dere?  Oh dear, oh dear!  What de matter?" he moaned out.

"How was it you let little Billy True Blue run away and nearly get
killed, Sam?" asked Paul.

"Billy killed!  Oh dear, oh dear!  Den kill me!" cried poor Sam,
trembling all over.

"But he isn't killed, and we don't want to kill you," answered Paul.
"Get up, though, or we shall fancy you're in a fright or drunk."

"But I can't get up--'deed I can't!" cried Sam.  "Leg shot away.  I no
walkee."

On hearing this, Paul and his companions lifted up the poor black, and
sure enough a leg, but it was his wooden one, was shattered to
fragments, and the stump to which it was secured considerably bruised.
It then came out that Sam had really attempted to follow little True
Blue when he ran on deck, but that, just as he was getting up the
hatchway on the lower-deck, a shot had come through a port, and,
striking his wooden leg, had tumbled him down again, when by some means
or other he had rolled down into the hold, and there, suffering from
pain and fear, he had ever since lain, unwilling and unable to rise,
dreading lest harm should happen to his little charge, and fearing not a
little, should such have been the case, the consequences to himself.  He
was half starved, too, for he had had nothing to eat all day, and was
altogether in a very wretched plight.  When, however, he was brought on
deck, with some food put into his inside and the assistance of the
carpenter, he was once more set on his legs.  Many a day, however,
passed before the sound of his once merry fiddle was heard on the
forecastle of the _Fame_, for the crew loved their gallant commander too
well to allow them to foot it as had been their constant custom during
his lifetime.

Little rest had the crews of any of the ships that night after the
battle.  Not far from the _Fame_ lay the _Caesar_, which had been so
gallantly defended, now a prize to the _Centaur_.  One of the
lieutenants of the _Centaur_, with the boatswain and fifty of her men,
were on board the prize, fully four hundred Frenchmen not having yet
been removed.

Suddenly flames were seen to burst forth from the lower ports of the
_Caesar_.  How the fire originated no one could tell.  In vain must have
been the efforts of those on board to extinguish it.  Boats put off from
all the ships near to rescue the unfortunate people on board; but before
they could reach her the fire had entered her magazine, and with a
dreadful explosion she blew up, hurling every one on board to
destruction.  The English lieutenant and boatswain, with fifty men, and
the four hundred Frenchmen remaining on board, all perished.

For this most important and gallant victory Sir George Rodney was
created a peer of Great Britain, Sir Samuel Hood a peer of Ireland, and
Admiral Drake and Commodore Affleck baronets of the United Kingdom.



CHAPTER EIGHT.

Among the ships forming the squadron under Admiral Graves, ordered to
proceed to England, was the _Hector_, 74, captured from the French in
the glorious battle of the 12th of April 1782.  Captain Bouchier, who
had commanded the _Zebra_ sloop, had been appointed to her to take her
home; and although her complement had been filled up chiefly by
invalids, and French and American prisoners, who had volunteered to
serve in her, it was necessary also to have a certain number of prime
seamen on board.  These were drafted from several ships, and, to the no
small satisfaction of Paul Pringle, he with Abel Bush, Peter Ogle, and
Tom Snell were taken from the _Fame_.

As the _Fame_ had already a fiddler, and the _Hector_ had none, they got
leave for Sam Smatch to accompany them.

Paul was anxious to let Billy live a little more on shore than he had
hitherto done.  "D'ye see, Abel," he observed to his chum, "it's time,
to my mind, that he should begin to get his ribs lined with true honest
English beef, and sniff up some of the old country's fresh sharp air,
and learn to slide and play snowballs, which he can't do out in these
hot outlandish parts; for if he don't, he'll not be growing into the
stout chap we wants him to be.  You mind when we was little, how we used
to tumble and roll about in the snow?"

"'Deed I do, mate," answered Abel.  "There's nothing like a roll in the
snow and a mouthful of good air to put strength into a fellow's back;
besides, to my mind, Billy ought to be ashore a little to learn the ways
and manners of people there--not but what I thinks our ways afloat are
better, or just as good; but, d'ye see, as some day or other I suppose
he will have to go on shore for a spell, he'd be just like a fish out of
water if he has never been before--not know what to do with hisself any
more than a bear in a china shop, or a ploughman aboard a ship."

At length, on the 15th of August, Admiral Graves, in the _Ramillies_,
74, with his convoy of merchantmen and prizes captured from the French,
sailed for England.

The fleet continued its course without any occurrence worthy of note
till the night of the 22nd of August, when Captain Bouchier, from the
bad sailing qualities of the _Hector_, and from her comparatively small
crew, unable to make or shorten sail as rapidly as was necessary, found
that she was dropping astern.  She was an old ship; when captured, many
of her guns had been removed at Jamaica, fifty-two only remaining; and
her masts had been replaced by others of smaller dimensions, while her
crew, all mustered, amounted only to three hundred men.

"I didn't think things were so bad," observed Paul to Abel after they
had been on board a few days.  "Howsomever, Abel, we'll do our duty and
trust in Providence."

The weather became very threatening, and soon very bad after they parted
from the fleet; and the officers, as they went about their duty, could
scarcely conceal their anxiety as to what might be the fate of the ship,
should matters, as appeared too probable, grow worse than they were.

The Admiral's ship must be followed for a short time.  On the 8th of
September, the _Caton_, 64, and _Pallas_, frigate, sprung dangerous
leaks.  The Admiral, consequently ordered them to bear away for Halifax.

On the 16th, when the fleet was in latitude 42 degrees 15 minutes north
and longitude 48 degrees 15 minutes west, the weather gave signs of
changing, and a violent gale from the east-south-east sprung up and
increased towards night.  The crews of the ships did all that seamen
could do under such circumstances; sails were furled or closely reefed,
topmasts were struck, and everything secured to meet the rising tempest.
Still it blew harder and harder, and the sea increased and ran
mountains high, so that all knew, should one ship be driven against
another, most probably both would go down together.  With unabated fury
it continued all night till three o'clock in the morning, when for a
moment there was a lull, and many thought that the tempest was over; but
sadly were they deceived.  With a roar of thunder, down came the wind
upon them in a terrific hurricane; and on board the ill-fated squadron
the crashing of masts and spars told of the sad havoc it was committing,
while numbers of the merchantmen were thrown on their beam-ends at the
same instant, never to rise again.

The _Ramillies_ had been carrying her mainsail, when, the squall
striking her, she was taken aback, and before the clew-garnets could be
manned and the sail clewed up, the mainmast went overboard, carrying
with it in its fall the mizen-mast, the fore-topmast and foreyard; the
tiller broke off at the head, and then in an instant the noble ship lay
a helpless wreck on the tossing ocean.  The carpenter sounded the well,
and it was found that a leak had been sprung, and that there were six
feet of water in the hold.  The chain-pumps were manned; but great was
the dismay when it was found that they were choked and would not work.

When the day broke, indescribable was the scene of horror and distress
which the light disclosed.  Nearly all the ships of war were dismasted
and otherwise disabled.  Many of the convoy had suffered in the same
way, and others had actually foundered, while the tumultuous sea around
was dotted thickly with wrecks.  Numbers of unhappy beings, both men and
women, were seen either lashed or clinging to them, or to shattered
masts or spars, while the utter impossibility of lowering a boat in such
a sea rendered their situation still more piteous.  In vain they
shrieked--in vain they waved for assistance.  One by one they were torn
from their holds, and, hopelessly struggling, sunk amid the waves.  Some
of the ships less disabled managed to steer near a few of the wrecks;
and by means of ropes hove to them, a small number were thus saved, but
small indeed compared to the many who were imploring assistance; and
gradually the ships drove on before the gale, and they were left to
their miserable fate.

Very soon all the ships of war parted company, and the _Ramillies_ was
left with a few merchantmen only around her.  Her crew were exerting
themselves to the utmost to save her.  Some of her guns and her heavy
stores were, during the course of the day, thrown overboard, in the
hopes of easing her; but she still laboured violently, and the pumps
could not be cleared.  Two more anxious days passed, and, in spite of
all their efforts, the leak increased till there were ten feet of water
in the hold.  The Admiral now began to despair of saving the ship.
Happily the gale had abated, so he made a signal to the merchantmen
still in his company to come down to his assistance, and to take on
board his crew.  Their boats thickly surrounded his flagship, and by
four o'clock in the afternoon all the ship's company of the _Ramillies_
were distributed among them.  She had by this time fifteen feet of water
in her hold.

The last sad act of the drama was to be performed.  By the directions of
the Admiral, her commander, Captain Moriarty, set her on fire fore and
aft, and then, with his boat's crew, pulled on board the merchantman
prepared to receive him.  In a few minutes the fine old ship with a loud
explosion blew up, and the merchantmen she had been convoying sailed on
their way.

On the 4th of October, the _Canada_, 74, Captain Cornwallis, reached
Spithead, and brought accounts of the hurricane and its dreadful
effects.  In vain those who had friends on board that large fleet waited
to hear tidings of them.  The Admiral and his scattered crew arrived,
but no other man-of-war of all the number ever reached the shores of Old
England.

After the _Hector_ parted company from the fleet, she continued on her
solitary voyage.  Her leaky condition made it necessary to keep her
pumps constantly going, a task which her weakened crew were ill able to
perform.  Had it not been for Paul Pringle and his shipmates from the
_Fame_, the greater number would soon have flinched from the work.

Sam Smatch, too, aided not a little, and his fiddle was in constant
requisition to keep up their spirits.  When not engaged in playing for
the amusement of the men, he employed himself in fiddling to little True
Blue, whom Tom Snell had lately undertaken to instruct in dancing a
hornpipe.  No more apt scholar was ever found.

"Anybody would know that he was a true sailor's son by the way the
little chap handles his feet!" exclaimed Tom with delight as he and his
old shipmates stood round, with intense admiration depicted on their
countenances, while Billy was performing in public for the first time.
"Watch now there his double shuffle--how he slips his little feet about
just as if they were on ice!--and hear what a crack he gives his
fingers.  It won't be long before he'll take the shine out of many a big
fellow who fancies that he hasn't got an equal."

Similar remarks of approbation continued to be showered down on Billy,
who certainly entered into the spirit of the dance with all the zest
that his patrons could desire, while Sam Smatch fiddled away and grinned
from ear to ear with delight.

They were thus engaged when, on the afternoon of the 24th of September,
a cry was heard from the masthead that two sail were in sight.  In a
short time it was ascertained that the strangers were standing towards
the _Hector_.  Whether, however, they were friends or foes, she was not
in a condition to avoid them.  On they came, and towards evening it was
seen that they were French frigates, of forty guns each.  Captain
Bouchier addressed his people, urging them to stand boldly to their
guns, and promising them to fight the ship to the last.  Paul Pringle
backed the Captain with all his influence among the men; but his heart
was very sad, for he felt that, from the great superiority of the enemy,
they would very likely come off victorious; and if so, little Billy True
Blue might be carried to France and brought up as a Frenchman.  Such an
idea had always been a horror to him, and the too great probability that
it might now be realised made his heart sink lower than it had ever done
before.

The only alternative seemed to be that of going down with their flag
still flying; but the safety of little Billy, who would be involved in
the catastrophe, made that too terrible to contemplate.  So Paul talked
to Abel, and Tom, and Peter, and his other friends, and they went round
among the men and urged them to stand boldly to their guns, to blaze
away as fast as they could, and to try and beat off the Frenchmen.
Night came on before the enemy got up to them, and for some time the two
frigates were seen hovering just beyond range of their guns, as if
uncertain whether or not to attack them.

Of course Billy, in spite of his entreaties to be allowed to remain on
deck, was sent below with Sam, who received the strictest charge under
no pretence to allow him to escape.  An hour or more passed, and then,
through the thick gloom of night, the two strangers were seen drawing
near.  As they ranged up, after passing her quarters and pouring in a
heavy fire, the _Hector_ opened her broadsides in return.  Now they
sailed by, and first one and then the other crossed her bows, raking her
as they did so.  Broadside after broadside was poured into her.  Many of
her brave crew were struck down, some never to rise again.  Still
Captain Bouchier, ably seconded by Captain O'Brien Drury, who was on his
passage to England, continued to defend the ship, though, from want of
hands, a complete broadside could never be fired.

Still the few strong, able-bodied seamen made up in activity in a great
measure for the paucity of their numbers, and for the weakness of the
rest.  Paul, Abel, Tom, and Peter, and the rest literally flew about the
decks, and handled the guns as if they were quakers made of wood and not
of heavy metal.

The officers laboured like the men; their example encouraged the sick
and wounded, who slid out of their hammocks and seized the gun-tackles,
hauling at them with an energy which no one would have supposed they
possessed.  Even the Americans and French, in the excitement of the
moment, seemed to forget that they were helping their late enemies, and
laboured like the rest, in spite of the showers of shot which came
crashing in on them.  Still, exert themselves as they would, they knew
that the Frenchmen must have been aware, from their mode of firing, that
they were short of guns, because, having approached while it was yet
day, they had seen by her size that she was a seventy-four-gun ship.

The Captain and master stood by the helm, and frequently had to call the
men from the guns to trim sails, in order to alter the position of the
ship, and to avoid being raked by the French frigates, who, nimble in
their movements, again and again attempted to cross her bows and stern.
Frequently they succeeded, and their shot came tearing along her decks,
and ripping them up fore and aft, wounding the beams and knocking some
completely away.  Still the British would not give in.  Had there been
more men on board the _Hector_, the slaughter would have been much
greater.  As it was, numbers were falling on every deck.

At length the discouraging cry arose that the Captain was desperately
wounded.  At that moment his voice was heard exclaiming, loud above the
din of battle, "Never fear, my lads; my heart is unhurt, and that still
beats for you!"

Just then the first lieutenant was standing not far from Paul Pringle
when a shot struck him to the deck.  Paul stooped to raise him.

"Let me remain here, my lads," he said in a low voice.  "It's all over
with me; but stick to your guns.  Tell the men never to give in."

These were his last words, for his life was ebbing fast away.  Now it
was known that Captain Drury had taken command, and once more the
courage of the crew, which had begun to sink at the loss of their two
principal officers, revived as before.  The Frenchmen must have been
severe sufferers by the fire of the _Hector_, and must have felt the
apparent hopelessness of compelling her to strike.

Suddenly there was a cry that the French frigates were ranging up
alongside, with the evident intention of boarding.  Their decks had been
seen crowded with men, and there could be no doubt that they had troops
on board.

"Boarders, prepare to receive boarders!" shouted Captain Drury through
his speaking trumpet.  Of course the most active and best men had been
told off for the service.  Crash came the two ships of the enemy, one on
each quarter.  Paul Pringle, with Abel Bush, were among the leading men
of the party, headed by the second lieutenant, while several of their
old shipmates were with them.  The instant the Frenchmen's bows touched
the _Hector's_ sides, numbers of the enemy came swarming on board on the
upper deck and through the ports on the main deck.  Paul and Abel and
their companions rushed aft, with cutlass in hand, to repel the
Frenchmen who were attacking on the starboard side.  Pistols were
flashing, bullets whizzing, and swords were clashing, while a hot fire
of musketry was kept up from the enemy's poops, and the great guns which
could be brought to bear were playing away without cessation.  There
seemed, indeed, every probability that numbers would gain the day.  Paul
began to think so likewise.  Still, amid the desperate fight, one idea
was uppermost in his mind.  It was about little True Blue.  It was the
dread, if the enemy gained the day, that he would be turned into a
little frog-eating Frenchman.

"Remember our own little True Blue, mates!" he shouted.  "Whatever we
do, don't let the Crapauds have him.  Huzza for our Billy!  Huzza for
little True Blue!" and he and his old shipmates, making a fresh and
still more desperate onset against the enemy, cut them down right and
left, and drove them back with prodigious slaughter, some on board the
frigate and some into the water, where many sank to rise no more.  Just
then, either from accident or design, the frigate on that side sheered
off; but the Frenchmen who had attacked on the larboard side had already
gained a footing on the _Hector's_ deck.  Every inch of it was, however,
being hotly disputed; and now Paul and his companions, with their
newly-invented battle cry, rushed over on that side to the assistance of
their shipmates.  Their coming turned the tide of the fight.  "Huzza for
Billy True Blue!  Huzza for our Billy!" shouted Paul, and Abel, and Tom,
and Peter.  Step by step, as they had advanced, only at a much greater
speed, the Frenchmen were driven back,--though numbers never got back,
being cut down as they stood,--till at last the rest, with desperate
springs, endeavoured to regain their ship.  Very few accomplished their
intention, for most of them shared the fate of their friends in the
other ship.

Many, indeed, had no friendly plank to step on, for the frigate fell
away and left them deserted on the _Hector's_ decks.  No one thought of
asking for quarter, and in the heat of that desperate fight no quarter
was given.  The instant the ship was free of her opponents, the crew
flew back to their guns and began to blaze away with as much energy as
before.  Now the old seventy-four's yards and blocks, and rigging, came
rattling down from aloft; her sails hung in tatters, and the water
rushing in told of numerous shot-holes between wind and water, while
scarcely a brace or a sheet remained to enable her to alter her
position.  Once again the Frenchmen ranged up alongside.  Again the cry
was heard, "Boarders, repel boarders!"

As before, two parties of seamen, and a few of the invalid soldiers and
others, rushed to repel them.  Neither party could tell how far success
was attending the exertions of their friends.  Paul's was very nearly
overpowered; but again Billy True Blue's name was shouted to the rescue,
and, with as much slaughter as before, the Frenchmen were driven back to
their ships.  On the larboard side the fight was even more obstinate;
but British pluck gained the day, and tumbled most of the Frenchmen into
the sea.

Again the Frenchmen drew off and opened their broadsides.  Dawn was now
breaking, and what a scene of wreck and havoc did the pure fresh light
disclose!  Captain Drury gazed with grief at the state of the ship, for
he knew that the increasing light would exhibit it to the enemy and
encourage them in persisting in the attack.  Still he resolved to make
them pay dear for their victory, if they were to gain it; and calling on
the half-fainting crew to persevere to the last, he ordered them to pour
their broadsides into the enemy, who were just then passing them abeam.
The men with alacrity obeyed, and cheers, though often faint and feeble,
from nearly dying men ran along the decks, and showed the enemy that the
true British courage of the _Hector's_ crew was still unabated.  Again
another broadside was loaded, and they were preparing to pour it in on
the enemy, when what was their surprise to see both the frigates make
all sail and stand away to the westward!  Some parting shots and some
hearty cheers were sent after them; and then numbers of the brave crew
sank down exhausted on the decks, slippery with the gore of their
shipmates.

Even Paul Pringle began to tremble like a child, and could scarcely drag
his legs after him as he went below to assure himself of the safety of
little Billy.  Stout-hearted as he was, he could not help shuddering at
the scenes of horror which met him on every side--at the shattered
condition of the ship, and the shrieks and groans of the wounded, now in
the hands of the surgeons.  Many poor fellows lay about, too, apparently
unhurt, but expiring through fatigue.  Still, nothing stopped him till
he reached the hold.

The water was finding its way down there from the shot-holes above, and
all was dark and gloomy.  He groped his way on, shouting out for Sam and
Billy.  At length little True Blue's voice was heard.

"Here I, Billy; but Sam no let me come."

"Yes, Billy, you go now--you go now," said Sam in reply.  When Paul got
up to them, he found by the dim light of the lantern which Sam had that
he had made the child fast to a stanchion, evidently for fear of his
again running away, and he was now busily engaged in casting him loose.

As soon as little Billy was free, he rushed up to Paul, who look him in
his arms and hugged him and kissed him, as a fond mother would have
done, while the child burst into tears, exclaiming:

"Billy so--so berry glad Paul not hurt.  How Abel? how Peter? how Tom?"

"Not one of them hit, my boy, I believe," answered Paul, giving him
another hug.  "You've been thinking on us, then, have you?  And we was
thinking on you, that we was, bless your little heart; and we made the
Frenchmen know that they shouldn't have you as long as we'd a plank to
float you on, and an arm to strike for you.  And now, Sam, just stump up
out of this, and try and get Billy some breakfast.  I must go and lend a
hand in getting the ship to rights."

In the action one lieutenant and eight men had been killed, and
thirty-two wounded--their brave captain among the number, having lost
his arm, and being otherwise much injured, while from that day many
other poor fellows sank under their hardships and privations.

The hope now of reaching England was abandoned, and the ship bore up for
Halifax.  Scarcely, however, was the helm shifted when a squall struck
her, and in an instant, as if they had been mere willow wands, the
already injured masts went with a crash over the sides.  Now the tempest
came on and roared louder and louder, and the sea got rapidly up and
tossed the big ship helplessly about, and, before the slightest sail
could be made to keep her before the wind and steady her, a sea struck
her rudder and carried it away.

Thus like a log she lay, tossed about by the waves.  The riven decks
could ill keep out the water which washed aboard her, while many of the
beams gave way, and those of the orlop-deck bent and cracked till
several of them fell into the hold.  Nothing now seemed to stop the
entrance of the water.  Paul and his old companions exerted themselves
to the utmost.  They did not like to believe for a moment that the ship
would go down, and yet they could not help seeing that such a fate was
too likely to befall her.  Furiously raged the hurricane.  Higher and
higher rose the sea, and more and more the ship worked; and the leaks
increased till the entire hold was flooded, and casks and provisions of
all sorts were rolled helplessly about; the bread was spoiled, the
water-casks were stove in, and the greater portion of the fresh water
destroyed.

"Paul, what is to be done?" said Abel to his friend.

"Pump away, mates, and trust in Providence," was the answer.  "Fresh
hands to the pumps, ho!" he sang out with as cheerful a voice as he
could command.

His shipmates followed his example and worked away with fresh energy;
but pumping is exhausting work, and dry work, too, and there was
scarcely any water left, and but a few casks of spirits could be got at.
These were carried aft and kept under charge of a sentry.  A small
quantity only was served out at intervals to each man with a little
biscuit; and this was all the crew had to sustain life and enable them
to undergo the increasing exertions they were called on to make.  Many
of the invalids could no longer exert themselves in the slightest
degree, and numbers died every day.  The surgeons went among the poor
fellows and did their utmost, but without sufficient or wholesome
sustenance their efforts were unavailing; and one of the saddest labours
of each morning was to commit to the deep those who had perished during
the night.

At length the gale ceased, and jury-masts were rigged, and the officers
thought that by getting a sail thrummed under the ship's bottom some of
the leaks might be stopped.  By great exertions they got the sail placed
as was intended, but it had no effect whatever: the leaks continued to
increase, and consternation and despair appeared on the countenances of
nearly all.  Some poor fellows actually sank down at the pumps and died;
others refused to work at them any longer, declaring that it was utterly
useless making the attempt to keep the ship afloat, and the officers had
to use the greatest exertions to persuade them to remain at their duty.

"Come, come, mates!" exclaimed Paul Pringle when he saw several quitting
the pumps, "there's not a man of you but what would be ready to stand to
his guns and die at them gladly; then why not stand to the pumps to the
last, and die like true men doing our duty?  Hurrah! lads, who knows but
what we may keep the old ship afloat till help of some sort comes to us?
And never let it be said that we turned cowards and shrank from our
duty."

Thus exhorted, the greater number again seized the pump-handles and
buckets, and continued to work away as before.  Still it was too evident
that, spite of all their exertions, the leaks were gaining on them.
Even the most hopeful began to despair that all their efforts would do
no more than prolong their lives.  Some few, indeed, went to their
hammocks, and, lashing themselves in, declared their intention of
remaining there, and thus going down with the ship.

"Oh, shame on you!" cried Paul Pringle when he saw some of them doing
this.  "Do you call yourselves British seamen, and yet afraid to face
death at your quarters?  The ship is still afloat, and may float for
some hours longer for what you can tell.  Think of your duty, lads--
think of your duty, and never flinch from it to the last."

While Paul was saying this, however, his brave heart was very sad.  In
the cabin of the Captain's steward sat Sam Smatch, holding little True
Blue on his knee.  The child's countenance showed that he partook of the
anxiety of all around, and, moreover, that he, too, was suffering from
the want of proper sustenance; the colour had forsaken his cheeks, and
he looked thin and weak.  In vain his friends had foraged for him; they
could find nothing but damaged biscuit and salt beef, uncooked.  Paul
often thought of making a raft; but out in the Atlantic what would be
the use of that?  It might only prolong the child's life for a few
hours, and inflict on it greater sufferings.  Still, he said nothing on
the subject.

Again and again the carpenter sounded the well.  Each time his report
was more disheartening.  The end of September arrived, and there was not
a drop of spirits or water in the ship.  Death in another dreadful form
now stared the seamen in the face.  Each day the poor feverish wretches
cried out for water to moisten their lips, but none was to be had.  Many
died from that want alone, others from starvation.

Each morning the horizon was anxiously scanned, in the hope that some
ship might be in sight to bring them relief.  Even an enemy would have
been welcomed, for their condition would have excited the compassion of
their greatest foes.

Daylight, on the 3rd of October, broke.  From the report of the
carpenter, the officers knew that the ship could not float many hours
longer; and, like brave men and Christians, they prepared to meet that
death which now seemed inevitable.  The day drew on--slight were the
hopes that another would ever dawn on them.  A few still refused to give
way to despair.  Paul Pringle was among the number.  He climbed to the
head of the jury-mast to have another look out.  In vain he looked--
still he lingered.  Then his eye brightened.  "A sail! a sail!" he
shouted.  With the most intense eagerness he watched her.  "She sees us!
she sees us! she is bearing down on us!" he cried, still remaining at
his post to watch her.

In a short time her hull rose above the horizon, and those on deck could
see her.  Many burst into tears, and some fell on their knees on deck,
and thanked Heaven that assistance had been sent them.  Still their
anxiety was great, for even before the stranger could get up to them the
ship might go down.

"Well!" cried Paul Pringle, seizing little True Blue and holding him in
his arms, "if she does, I'll have a swim for it, and save the most
precious thing aboard--that I will."  Paul had got a grating ready, into
which he was prepared to spring should the catastrophe occur.

Still the _Hector_ floated.  The stranger proved to be the _Snow Hawk_,
a letter of marque, belonging to Dartmouth, commanded by Captain John
Hill, from Lisbon, bound to Saint John's, Newfoundland.  No sooner did
Captain Hill come on board and understand the miserable condition of the
_Hector_, than, without bargain or agreement, he at once offered to
render every assistance in his power.  Some few of the wounded were at
once removed, but darkness prevented the others leaving the ship.  He
therefore remained by them all night; but though the spirits of some
revived, it was a night of fearful anxiety to many, who believed that at
any moment the ship might go down.  Paul was of opinion that she would
float, but he never let go of Billy, and kept a sharp eye on his grating
in case of accident.  The next morning, as the men were told off into
the boats, only two hundred out of the three which had left the West
Indies were found to have survived.  As most of the _Hector's_ boats
were damaged, it took a long time to remove the crew; and the greater
part of the day had passed before all, with their wounded Captain, were
on board the _Hawk_.  Scarcely had the last boat left her than the
_Hector_ made one plunge and went down head first into the depths of the
ocean.  So crowded was the _Hawk_, that Captain Hill threw overboard a
considerable quantity of his cargo to accommodate his passengers.  The
wind held fair, but all hands were put on a very limited allowance of
provisions and water.  The last cask of water was abroach on the very
day the _Hawk_ reached Saint John's.  No man more deserved to have his
name held in remembrance than Captain Hill for his generous and humane
conduct on that occasion.

In time, Paul Pringle and his companions, with their young charge and
most of the survivors of the _Hector's_ crew, found their way to the
shores of Old England, by which time peace was proclaimed, and men began
to indulge in the fond fancy that wars were to cease for ever on the
globe.



CHAPTER NINE.

The year 1793 had commenced, the French had cut off the head of their
King, set up the red cap of freedom, proclaimed the age of reason,
pronounced liberty, equality, and fraternity to be the rule of the
world, and to illustrate their meaning were preparing the guillotines
and the cannon to destroy the noblest, the fairest, and best in their
own land, and to attack any people who might differ from them in
opinion.

War had already broken out with Great Britain.  The people of Old
England were girding their loins for that gigantic struggle, when nearly
all the powers of Europe were leagued with those enemies who strove to
overwhelm her.  Right noble was the struggle, and right brave and
gallant were the soldiers and sailors who then fought for the safety and
honour of their well-loved country.  Busy preparations were going
forward.  All classes were exerting themselves, from the highest to the
lowest.  Ministers were planning and ordering, soldiers were drilling,
ships were fitting out in every harbour.

Grass did not grow in the streets of Portsmouth in those days.  A large
party of seamen were proceeding down the High Street of that far-famed
naval port one bright day in summer.  There came first undoubted
men-of-war's men, by their fearless bearing and independent air
betokening a full consciousness of their value; a young and thorough
sailor boy, stout, broad-shouldered, with a fair though somewhat
sunburnt complexion, a row of teeth capable of grinding the hardest of
biscuit, and a fine large joyous eye and pleasant mouth, exhibiting
abundance of good humour and good nature, yet at the same time firmness
and decision.

The seamen stopped not far from the Southsea Gate, opposite a large
placard, on which it was announced that the thirty-six-gun frigate
_Ruby_ was fitting for sea with all possible despatch, and that she had
lately been commissioned by a young enterprising commander, Captain
Garland, and was in want of first-rate able seamen, as well as other
hands, to whom no end of fighting, prize-money, liberty, and fun of
every description was promised.  The offers and promises thus liberally
made were very similar to those put forth in the same way when other
ships were fitting out; and seamen had already learned to look more to
the character of the ship and captain than to any other inducements held
out to them.

"That will just suit us, Paul," said one of the men after they had
carefully spelt over the paper, not without some trouble.

"I'm thinking it will, Abel.  But I say, mate, I wonder if Captain
Garland is the youngster we had aboard the old _Terrible_?" answered
Paul Pringle, for he was the person addressed.  "He was a fine little
chap then.  Can he have grown into a Post-Captain already?"

"Why, just look at our Billy True Blue here," observed Peter Ogle,
putting his hand on the shoulder of the lad who has just been described.
"See, a few years has made a great change in him from the weak little
baby he was when he was shipmate with the youngster."

The boy smiled as he looked at his own strong fists and arms, and then
glanced at the countenances of his friends.

"To be sure--to be sure," said Paul Pringle.  "He was a fine
true-hearted boy, and there's no doubt he'll prove a brave, dashing, and
a good captain.  Let's hear what Tom Snell, Marline, and the rest say to
the matter."

They waited till the other seamen came up.  With the latter was a
one-legged black man, with a fiddle-case under his arm.  He was no other
than Sam Smatch, who had, ever since the last war, followed the fortunes
of Paul Pringle and his old shipmates.  The whole party were now grouped
together before the placard, with Billy True Blue in the centre.  They
were not left long to consult together without interruption, for the
placard served the purpose for which a bait is hung up in a wood, or
placed at the bottom of a pit, while the hunter stands by to watch for
the appearance of the animals it may attract.  In this case, the first
lieutenant of the _Ruby_ was acting the part of the hunter.  He had
taken a survey of the men from a shop window, and speedily made his
appearance on the spot.  They knew him by the single simple epaulette on
his shoulder.  He addressed them at once in a free, hearty tone.

"Well, my lads, you see what's wanted," said he.  "If you wish to serve
under one of the smartest, bravest officers in the Navy, you will join
the _Ruby_.  We want some prime hands like most of you.  Come, which of
you will join?  Say the word and stick to it."

"Why, sir, d'ye see, we all goes together, or we doesn't go at all,"
said Paul Pringle, stepping forward.  "We've been shipmates off and on
for many years, and we wish to be so till we lays up in ordinary again."

"I may, perhaps, be able to arrange that matter," answered the
lieutenant, not liking to show all the satisfaction he felt, or to yield
too soon to the demands the men might make.  "But that boy, now?
Perhaps we may have boys enough on board already.  I suppose you don't
wish to take him to sea?"

"Not him, sir!  If he doesn't go, none on us goes," answered Paul
briskly.

"None on us," echoed all the other godfathers.

"He is your son, I conclude, my man?" said the lieutenant, addressing
Paul.

"No, sir, not mine more than Abel Bush's or Peter Ogle's, or any of them
astern there," answered Paul.  "No, sir, he belongs to us all, d'ye see,
sir?  He's the son of an old shipmate, sir, killed out in the West
Ingies, fighting with Lord Rodney; and his mother was an old shipmate
too; and so the boy was left to the ship's company, and they chose us to
look after him--and we have looked after him, and we intend to look
after him; and we loves him just as if he was a son, and more nor some
fathers do their sons, and that's the truth on't, sir; and so we all
intends to ship with him, that we may have him among us, that's it,
sir."

"That's it, sir," echoed the rest, to show that they were all of one
mind.

"Well, if you all like to join provisionally, I will see what the
Captain will consent to do," answered the lieutenant.

Now as none of the party had the slightest idea of what joining
provisionally meant, they were very much inclined to declare off
altogether, when just then a young active man, with an extremely
pleasant expression of countenance, in the full-dress uniform of a
Post-Captain, was seen coming up the High Street.  He stopped when he
got up to the group of seamen.

"Ah, Mr Brine, are any of these men going to join us?" he asked,
glancing his keen eyes over them.  His countenance brightened when he
saw Paul Pringle.

"Why, I believe that I see an old shipmate whom I have not met for many
a year; and not one only--two or three more of you I remember clearly.
Am I not right?" said he.  "We served together in the old _Terrible_,
and afterwards in the _Fame_."

"I thought so, sir!" exclaimed Paul with a cheerful voice.  "I remember
you now, sir, that I do, though I shouldn't if you hadn't told me where
we'd been together.  Maybe, sir, you remember a little baby you used to
be kind to, born aboard the ship.  There he is, sir."

"What, Billy True Blue!  Of course I do," answered the Captain in a
pleasant tone.  "Come here, my lad; and you still follow the sea, do
you?  You began pretty early."

"There's no other calling to my mind a man would wish to follow, sir,"
answered True Blue.

"All right, my men," said Captain Garland; "if you haven't got a ship, I
shall be very glad if you will join the _Ruby_.  I do not believe that
there are many frigates in the service will beat her in any way, and I
promise you it will not be my fault if she isn't a happy ship."

"Just one word, sir, with the rest and we'll tell you," said Paul.

"As many as you like," said the Captain; and he and his lieutenant
stepped aside.

Scarcely a minute had passed before Paul Pringle came up to him.

"We'll all join you, sir, Billy and all," said he; "and I suppose, sir,
you'll not object to take Sam Smatch in?  He always goes with us; and
though he's not wanted to nurse Billy now, there isn't a better hand
with his fiddle to be found anywhere.  He might get a good living on
shore--that he might, sir; but he'd rather stick by us, as he's always
done, in spite of all the ups and downs of a life at sea, sir."

"Sam Smatch?  Of course we'll have him!" said the Captain, not trying to
conceal how highly pleased he was at getting so fine a haul of good men
at one time for his ship.  "And now I wish you to accompany Mr Brine on
board at once and enter.  When it's known that we have a fair number of
good men, others will join; and the faster we man the ship, the sooner
we shall get to sea and be at the enemy."

A little more conversation passed.  Paul and his companions went on
board and entered; and Mr Brine, soon convinced that they might be
trusted on shore, allowed them to go.  They employed their time so well
in singing the praises of their new Captain, that in a week or two the
_Ruby_ was fully manned.  In those days the crew themselves were chiefly
employed in fitting the ship for sea, and as they all worked with a
will, in a very short time longer she had all her stores and provisions
on board, and was ready to go out to Spithead.  The remainder of the
officers had joined; Blue Peter was hoisted, and, with a fair breeze,
she stood out of Portsmouth Harbour.  In two days more her powder was on
board, and under all sail she was running out at the Needle Passage.

The frigate was on the home station; but there was plenty of work for
her.  The enemy's cruisers were very active; and they had some fine fast
frigates, which committed a great deal of mischief among the merchant
shipping, and carried off numbers of prizes.

Captain Garland determined to capture one or more of these, if he could,
without delay.  His ship soon showed her fast-sailing qualities by
making prizes of a number of small fry, in the shape of French coasters,
"_chasse-marees_," and two or three larger merchantmen, which were sent
into either Plymouth or Portsmouth to be disposed of.  This sort of
work, however, did not satisfy the wishes of either the Captain or his
officers or crew.  Among those most eager for the fight was Billy True
Blue Freeborn.  That was the way in which his name had been entered in
the ship's books.  He recollected clearly what a battle was, though he
had not been engaged in one since that fierce engagement when he lost
his friend and chief, Captain Penrose.

Since then, he had been for the greater part of the time at sea, partly
on board a man-of-war, but mostly in merchantmen and coasters, where
Paul Pringle took him, that, as he said, he might not be afraid of rocks
and shoals, or the look of a lee-shore in a gale of wind.  Out of all
that time he had only remained three years on shore, as his kind
guardian remarked, "to get his edication, and to larn manners."

Paul Pringle used to boast among his friends that Billy True Blue was
already a perfect seaman, and that he would sooner trust him at the helm
on a squally night, or on the lookout forward on a dark one, than he
would most men twice his age; but he took care never to say this in True
Blue's own hearing, lest, as he observed, "the lad should larn to think
too much of hisself."

True Blue had not been long on board the _Ruby_ before he became a
favourite with most of his new shipmates.  Had he not had watchful
guardians about him, he would soon have been spoilt by them.  To see him
dance the hornpipe, while Sam Smatch played his old fiddle, was, as his
admirers declared, "indeed a pleasure not to be met with any day in the
week," except on board the _Ruby_.  How he could shuffle and spring, and
whirl, and whisk, and snap his fingers!  He looked as if he was made of
India-rubber, filled with quicksilver.  And then he had a very good
voice and a fair notion of singing, and right merrily he could troll
forth some of those stirring sea-songs which have animated the gallant
tars of Old England to perform deeds of the greatest heroism, and have
served to beguile and soothe many an hour of their existence on the
ocean, far away from home and all its softening influences.

There were several other boys on board the frigate, among whom,
naturally, True Blue took the lead.  He was good-natured to all of them.
If they quarrelled with him, as some would, and would insist on having
it out with him in a fight with fists, he generally managed to make them
very cautious about trying the same experiment again.

There was one big fellow, Gregory Gipples by name, who set himself up as
a sort of leader among the other boys as soon as he came on board,
though he had never before been at sea.  He was a big hulking fellow;
and as he had a certain amount of cleverness about him, he tried to make
it appear that he knew a great deal more about things than he really
did.  True Blue instinctively discovered that he was a braggart and
inclined to be a bully.

Another boy was of a totally different character.  At first sight, so
delicate did he look that it seemed surprising that little Harry
Hartland had been allowed to come to sea at all.  But boys were wanted,
and the officers who had to pass them were not very particular; besides,
on further examination, Harry was stronger than he looked, and the
bright expression of his countenance showed that he would probably make
up by intelligence what he lacked in physical power.  He had also been
carefully and religiously educated, and his habits were very refined
compared with those of most of the other boys.  They soon learned to
call him "Gentleman Harry," though he did not seem pleased with the
appellation.  He was very silent as to his own early history.  He said
that his mother was a widow, and that he did not remember his father.
He knew that she would not have the means of supporting him, so he
wished to come to sea, and with the help of a friend of his own he had,
after much exertion, accomplished his object.

"You couldn't have done better--that you couldn't, Harry!" exclaimed
True Blue, to whom he had confided thus much of his early history.  "I
wouldn't have to go and live in smoky cities, or to ride along dirty
roads, or to have to look only at sheep, or cows, or horses, not to be
the greatest lord in the land.  I have never been much on shore, and
maybe haven't seen the most beautiful parts of it; but I was heartily
glad to get afloat again.  There you are on shore stuck in the same
place day after day.  What does it matter whether it's a calm or a gale,
it doesn't make you go faster or slower.  And if you want to go away,
then you have to get on the outside of a coach, and be covered from
truck to kelson with dust, and a precious good chance of a capsize and
getting your neck broke.  Now, when I was living ashore with Paul
Pringle's mother and people, there sprung up one night a gale of wind
which blew down the church steeple, I don't know how many big tall
trees, and sent a large part of the thatched roof off the cottage,
besides scattering the tiles of the houses right and left, and toppling
down numbers of chimney-pots.  There were half a dozen people killed, I
heard, that night, and ever so many hurt."

Harry smiled.

"It is lucky that you think so, and I am quite ready to agree that a
sailor's life is one of the best to choose, seeing that we shall have to
spend the best part of ours afloat," he answered.  "But what I hold is,
that we shouldn't think meanly of those who have to live always on
shore."

"I don't know as to that, Harry," said Billy quickly.  "We shouldn't
think ill of them, I'll allow; but who can help pitying them?  That's
all I say."

The conversation of the two boys was interrupted by an order which True
Blue received to go aloft and take a lookout round the horizon.  This
was a post of honour to which he had been especially appointed, on
account of the sharpness of his vision, and the accuracy with which he
noted and could describe the various sail which might be in sight.  Paul
Pringle watched him with pride.  Up--up--up he went.  The topmast
shrouds were reached--topgallant masthead; the royal mast was swarmed
up, and then he stood on the main truck, holding on by the staff of the
vane, no longer the little child, the pet of the ship's company, but a
thorough, fearless young seaman--not the less, however, the darling of
the crew.



CHAPTER TEN.

Day had just broken on the world of waters.  It was at that time of the
year when there is but little night.  The water was smooth, the air soft
and balmy.  Gradually the grey dawn warmed up as the approaching sun
cast some ruddy streaks in the eastern sky.  It was True Blue's watch on
deck, and he was at his post on the truck at the main-topgallant-mast.

By slow degrees the rich glow increased.  He turned his head round to
every point of the compass.  The Start Point was just in sight, bearing
about east by north, distant five or six leagues.  When his eye came to
the south-east, it rested there steadily for a moment, and then, putting
his hand to his mouth, he shouted, "Sail ho!" with a prolonged cadence,
pointing in the direction where he saw her.  The officer of the watch
hailed to know what she was.  "A full-rigged ship, sir," was his
unhesitating reply, although even from where he stood her
topgallant-sails alone could be seen, and to a landsman's eye nothing
distinguishable would have been visible.

The Captain soon came on deck.  True Blue kept his glance on the
stranger, that he might note immediately any change in her course.  She
was standing across the Channel and drawing nearer.

"I trust that she is one of the frigates of which we are in search, Mr
Brine," said the Captain.  "We'll soon learn.  Make sail on the ship."

"Ay, ay, sir," said the first lieutenant with alacrity.  "All hands make
sail!"

"All hands make sail!" shouted the boatswain, putting his silver call to
his mouth, and sounding a shrill whistle.  "All hands make sail!--rouse
up there, rouse up!--an enemy in sight, boys!"

The men sprang from their hammocks, and, shaking themselves rapidly into
their clothes, were in another instant on deck.  Every inch of canvas
the frigate could carry was soon got on her, and she bore up in chase.

Another order quickly followed.  It was, "Clear ship for action!"

Never was an order obeyed with more alacrity.  The stranger appeared
also to be standing under a press of sail, and steering to the southward
of east.

"She wishes to escape us altogether, or is not quite ready for action,"
observed the Captain to Mr Brine.

"She seems to be putting her best foot foremost, at all events,"
answered the first lieutenant, taking a look at the stranger through his
glass, for she could now be seen clearly from the deck.  "She looks like
a frigate of much about our size; and I have little doubt, by the cut of
her sails, she is French."

"I have great hopes that she is, and more, that she is one of the very
frigates we have been on the lookout for," said the Captain.  "What do
you think, master?" he added, turning to that officer, Mr Handlead, who
stood near.

"A Johnny Crapaud, sir," he answered quickly.  "There's no doubt about
it; and to my mind the villain is making all sail to be off, because he
doesn't like the look of us."

"I trust that we shall overtake her, and take her, too, master," said
Captain Garland.  "I think that we are already gaining on her.  The
frigate slips well through the water."

The crew on the forecastle were carrying on a conversation much in the
same style.  "Bless her heart, she is walking along at a good rate,"
observed Abel Bush as he looked over the bows.  "The old girl's got as
pretty a pair of heels of her own as you'd wish to see."

"The faster she goes, the better," answered Peter Ogle.  "I never does
feel comfortable like when one of those Monsieurs is in sight, till I
gets up alongside him and overhauls him one way or the other.  You mind
how they used to give us the slip in the West Ingies.  They'll be trying
on the same game now, depend on't."

"But when they do begin, they don't fight badly, you'll allow," observed
Paul Pringle.

"Maybe; but while they can lift their heels, they'll run," stoutly
maintained Abel.

In this instance the stranger seemed determined to contradict his
assertion, for at that very moment she was seen to haul up her foresail,
while the topgallant-sails were lowered on the caps, where they hung
swelling out and fluttering in the breeze; at the same time the flag of
republican France was run up at the peak, and a shot of defiance was
fired from one of her after-guns.

The British seamen, led by Paul Pringle, replied to it with a hearty
cheer, which, although it could not reach the Frenchmen's ears, served
to warm up their own hearts for the fight.  Although the crew had not
served long together, each man knew his proper station; and there each
man now stood bold and fearless, prepared for the contest.

Captain Garland, with Mr Brine near him, walked the quarterdeck, with
telescope in hand, watching each movement of the enemy.  The marines,
commanded by their lieutenant, stood drawn up with muskets, ready to
open fire as soon as they could get within range.  Added to them were a
party of small-arm men prepared for the same object, or ready to board
if required, while others were stationed there to fight the quarterdeck
guns, or to attend the braces.  Here, also, were grouped the mates and
midshipmen, not wanted elsewhere, ready to be despatched on any duty
which might be required of them.  On the maindeck the crew of each gun,
with handkerchiefs round their heads, and stripped to the waist,
clustered round it, the locks fixed in readiness, and the lanyards
coiled around them, the tackles laid along the decks, the captains with
their priming-boxes buckled on, the officers with their swords on,
standing by their proper divisions; while in long rows were the
round-shot and wads, with grape and canister; and at intervals sat the
ship's boys,--powder-monkeys they were often called,--each on his proper
tub full of powder, which he had brought up from the magazine below.
Here in the depths of the ship was the gunner, the presiding genius of
destruction, ready to serve out the further supply of powder which might
be required, as the boys came tripping down nimbly to receive it, with
no more concern than if they had had to carry up baskets of flour or of
corn.  The carpenter was also below.  He and his mates were preparing
shot-plugs with tallow and oakum, and were placing them in readiness in
the wings to stop any holes which the enemy's round-shot might make in
the ship's side; while he was prepared to sound the well occasionally,
and to make his report as to the depth of water in the hold.  The other
warrant-officer, the second in rank, the boatswain, stood on the
forecastle with his mates, having especially to look after the masts and
spars, and to repair immediately, if possible, any material damage.  The
purser and Captain's clerks were mostly on the quarterdeck, and, though
not fighting officers, ready and willing enough to fight like the rest;
while, lastly, the surgeon and his assistants were in the cockpit, with
the tables prepared, and the various implements required by them spread
out--saws, tourniquets, knives, basins, and sponges, as well as
restoratives of different kinds--to repair the damage, and to soothe or
alleviate the pain which the chances of cruel war might inflict on frail
humanity.

True Blue sat on his tub, with Harry Hartland next to him, and the big
Gipples on the other side of Harry.  They were stationed on the upper
deck.  True Blue was wishing that he was bigger, that he might be
serving the guns, or might be standing with Abel Bush and other friends,
who, with pistols in their belts and cutlasses at their sides, were
collected ready to board the enemy, or to repel boarders, should their
opponents make the attempt.

Big Gipples was in no way liking the look of things; and only the
conviction that he would be sent up again with a rope's end prevented
him jumping off his tub and running down to stow himself away in the
hold.  The other boys, though not aware of the excess of his terror,
maliciously wished to frighten him in retaliation for his bullying.

"Who's likely to be best off now?" began Tim Fid, one of the smallest of
the set, speaking across Gipples to Harry; "we little chaps or the big
ones, when the round-shot comes bowling about us?  They'd just as soon
take a big chap's head off as a little one's.  I'd rather, for my part,
be small and weak than big and strong.  Wouldn't you, Harry?"

"Certainly," answered Harry, who, having glanced at Gipples'
countenance, could not resist the temptation of having a fling at him.
"I've heard it said that the big fellows in a sea-fight are generally
picked off first, and that that is the reason there are more small
sailors than large ones.  I wonder what Billy has to say about it?"

True Blue, thus appealed to, was nothing loth to join in trying to
increase the evident terror of Gipples.  "Oh, as to that, I've heard
tell how these powder tubs on which we are made to sit sometimes catches
fire and blows the fellows on them like sky-rockets into the air,"
remarked Billy, laughing.  "Mind, it's what I've heard tell of, though I
never saw it.  But I did see once a ship and a whole ship's company
blown up together; and, mates, I hope I may never see the same sight
again.  I was a little chap then, and I saw some sad things that day,
but I remember that one just as clearly as if it happened a week ago."

"Well, I do think it's a shame we small chaps, as have never done
anybody any harm, should be made to sit here to be shot at by them
Monsieurs out there--that I do," continued Tim Fid.  "For my part, I do
think that the Captain ought to let us little ones go down and stow
ourselves comfortably away in the hold.  Don't you, Gipples?"

Gipples, not perceiving that Tim was joking, looked up and said in a
half-crying tone:

"Yes, I do; if any on you chaps will come, I'll bolt--that I will."

On this there was a general laugh.

"I'd just like to see you," said Tim, "whether you'd go down or come up
the fastest.  If every man was to do as you'd do, I should like to know
what would become of the ship.  The sooner you goes home and learns to
hem or sell dog's meat the better."

The wretched Gipples saw that his feelings gained no sympathy.  He tried
to back out of his proposal, but his tormentors were in no way inclined
to let him alone, till at last they made so much noise that they were
called to order by the men standing at the guns nearest them.

Presently, too, the deep-toned voice of the Captain was heard.

"Silence there, fore and aft!" he exclaimed.  "We have an enemy in
sight, of equal if not greater force.  We must take her, of course, but
the sooner we take her the less loss and the more honour we shall gain.
I intend to wait till we are close alongside before we open our fire.  I
shall take off my hat--wait till I lift it above my head; and then, my
lads, I expect you'll give her a right good dose of our shot."

The seamen raised three hearty cheers.  British sailors are always ready
for that; and directly afterwards the taunt masts and white canvas of
the French frigate were seen by those on deck rising above the hammock
nettings on the larboard bow.  The Captain stepped to the larboard
gangway.  A voice came from the deck of the Frenchman.

"What do they say?" asked the Captain of the master, who was nearest
him.

"I don't know, sir.  I never could make out the Frenchmen's lingo, and I
doubt that they intend us to understand them," answered Mr Handlead
with a tone of contempt in his voice.  "They are only mocking at us.
It's their way, sir."  Mr Brine more briefly said that he could not
make out the Frenchman's hail.

"Then keep her as she goes, master," said Captain Garland; and, putting
his speaking trumpet to his mouth, he shouted, "This is His Britannic
Majesty's ship, the _Ruby_, and I beg to know the name of yours, and the
King you serve?"

"This is _La Belle Citoyenne_, belonging to the Republican Government of
France," was the answer.  To which was added by several men in chorus,
"We serve no King--no, no!"

"But we do!" cried Paul Pringle.  "And right glad we are to serve him.
Hurrah, boys, for King George and Old England!  Hurrah! hurrah!"

Three hearty cheers burst from the throats of the British tars.
Scarcely had they ceased when the French Captain, who was still standing
in the gangway, was seen to hold aloft in his hand a _bonnet rouge_, the
red cap of liberty, and briefly to address his crew in terms of
considerable animation.  "Vive la Nation!" he exclaimed.  "Vive la
Republique!" answered the crew.

The French Captain, having finished his speech, handed the red cap to
one of the seamen, who ran with it up the rigging and screwed it on to
the masthead, where it was evident that a hole was prepared to receive
the screw.  The marines might easily have picked him off; but no one
even thought of attempting to injure the brave fellow.

The _Ruby_ was now well up with her opponent, and the two Captains,
taking off their hats, made the politest of bows to each other, the
Frenchman, however, beating the English Captain in the vehemence of his
flourish.  Both then returned to the quarterdeck.  The moment to begin
the fight had arrived.  Captain Garland, who had kept his hat in his
hand, raised it to his head.  Every eye was on him.  All knew the signal
he had promised to give.  For an instant not a sound was heard; and then
there burst forth the loud continued roar of the broadsides of the two
frigates as gun after gun of the _Ruby_, beginning at the foremost, was
brought to bear on her antagonist, responded to by the after-guns of the
Frenchman.  And now the two frigates ran on before the wind, so close
together that the combatants could see their opponents' faces, pouring
their shot into each other's sides.  Fast as the British seamen could
run in their guns, they loaded, and, straining every muscle, they were
rapidly run out again and fired.  While round-shot and grapeshot and
canister were sent rattling in through the enemy's ports and across her
decks, about her rigging, or tearing open her sides, she gallantly
returned the compliment with much the same coin.  Many of the bold
seamen on board the _Ruby_ were cut down.

A shot struck two men working the gun nearest to where Gipples was
sitting on his powder tub in terror unspeakable, not knowing what moment
he might be hit.  On came the mangled forms of the poor fellows,
writhing in their dying agonies, directly against him.  He and his tub
were upset, and he was sent, covered with their blood, sprawling on the
deck.

"Oh, I'm killed!  I'm killed!" he shrieked out, and, overcome with
terror, did not attempt to rise.

Two of the idlers, whose duty it was to carry the wounded below and
throw the dead overboard,--the common custom in those days of disposing
of them,--hearing him shriek out, thought that he had also been killed.
Having disposed of the first two men who really were dead, they lifted
him up and were about to throw him overboard, when, discovering how he
was to be treated, he groaned out, "Oh, I ain't dead yet--take me
below."  The men having been ordered to take all the wounded to the
cockpit, immediately carried him below, and, placing him on the
surgeon's table, one of them said:

"Here's a poor fellow, gentlemen, as seems very bad; but I don't know
whether he wants an arm or a leg cut off most."

"I hope that he may escape without losing either," said the surgeon,
lifting up Gipples and preparing to strip him to examine his wound.
"Where are you hit, my man?"

"Oh, oh, sir! all over, sir!" answered Gregory.

The surgeon, who had noted Gipples for some time and guessed his
character, very quickly ascertained that there was nothing whatever the
matter with him.  Taking up a splint, he bestowed a few hearty cuts with
it on his bare body, and then, telling him to jump up and slip on his
clothes, he sent him up on deck to attend to his duty.  Poor Gipples
would gladly have hid himself away; but he was watched, and started from
deck to deck till he had resumed the charge of his powder tub.  Meantime
Paul Pringle was keeping an anxious eye on True Blue.  There he sat as
composed and fearless as if nothing unusual was going forward, only
jumping up with alacrity and handing out the powder to the crews of the
guns he was ordered to serve.  Never was his eye brighter.  Never had he
seemed more full of life and animation.

"Ay, he's of the right sort," said Paul to himself; "I knew he'd be."

The moment his tub was empty, down he ran to the magazine, and speedily
again sprang with it on deck.  His friend Harry imitated his example as
well as he could; but he could not avoid stopping short when a shot
crashed in just before him, carrying off the head of a seaman, whose
body fell across the deck along where he had to pass.

The cry of "Powder, powder, boy!" from the captain of the gun made him
move on, but his knees trembled so that he could scarcely reach his
post.  After he had delivered the amount of powder required and sat down
on his tub, his tranquillity of mind and nerve returned.  Another shot
came whizzing by; he merely bobbed his head.  When the next passed near
him, he sat perfectly still.  After that he scarcely moved eyelid or
muscle, in spite of all the missiles and splinters and fragments flying
about.

Not so the miserable Gipples.  Compelled to stay on deck he was; but
nothing could keep his head from bobbing at every shot which struck the
ship or passed over her, while his whole body was continually shrinking
down on the deck.  Several times he lay flat along it, and so confused
was he, that, when called on to deliver the powder, he often did not
appear to hear, or ran off to the wrong gun; till at last, had there
been anybody to supply his place, he would have been kicked below and
declared unfit to be even a powder-monkey.  Even Tim Fid, when the
firing began, was not altogether as steady as usual; but though he
bobbed and sprang about with the feeling that he was dodging the shot,
which he could not do in reality, it was much in the same way that he
would have dodged a big play fellow whom he did not wish to touch him;
and as he never for a moment was found wanting at his post, no one
complained.

The action began at a quarter-past six that bright summer morning, and
for about a quarter of an hour the two frigates ran along parallel to
each other, exchanging broadsides with the greatest rapidity of which
their respective crews were capable.  They were keeping all the time
directly before the wind, and within hailing distance of each other.  In
that short period great had been the carnage on both sides.  One of the
English lieutenants and two midshipmen, besides a dozen men or more, had
been killed, and half as many again had been wounded; while the bulwarks
of the lately trim frigate were shattered and torn, her crew begrimed
with powder, perspiration, and blood, and her white decks slippery with
gore, torn up with shot, and covered with fragments from the yards and
the rent woodwork around.  The mainmast, too, had been severely wounded;
and though some of the carpenter's crew were busy in lashing and
otherwise strengthening it, great fears were felt for its safety.

"If that goes," exclaimed Paul Pringle, who saw the accident, "those
rascally Monsieurs will get off after all!"

At about half-past six the _Belle Citoyenne_ hauled up about eight
points from the wind, thus increasing her distance from the _Ruby_.

"I thought how it would be!" exclaimed Paul Pringle when he saw the
manoeuvre.  "The Monsieurs can't stand our fire.  Wing him, boys, wing
him!  Don't let the Frenchman get away from us.  Here, Billy, you come
here.  You all know that there isn't a better eye in the ship.  Let him
have a shot, boys."

True Blue, thus summoned, sprang with delight to the gun.  The mass of
smoke which hung round them, and the death of the officer in charge of
his division, enabled Paul to accomplish his object without question.

"Now steady, Billy, as you love me, boy!" he exclaimed in his eagerness.

True Blue had not far to stoop as he took the lanyard of the lock in his
hand and looked carefully along the gun.  The _Ruby_ had herself hauled
up a little.  For an instant there was a cessation of firing.  Billy at
that moment pulled the trigger.  The Frenchmen were in the very act of
bracing up the mizen-topsail-yard when the mizen-mast was seen to bend
over to starboard, and, with a crash, to come toppling down overboard,
shot away a few feet only above the deck.

"You did it--you did it, Billy, my boy!" exclaimed Paul Pringle, almost
beside himself with joy, seizing his godson in his arms and giving him a
squeeze which would have pressed the breath out of a slighter body.

"Who fired that last shot?" asked the Captain from aft.

"True Blue, sir--Billy Freeborn!" cried Paul Pringle.

"Hurrah! hurrah!" shouted the men at the gun.

"Bravo! let him fire another, then," answered Captain Garland, not
complaining of the irregularity of the proceeding.  Not another word
could have been heard, for both the _Ruby_ and the French frigate again
began pounding away at each other.

True Blue, with the encouragement he had received, stepped boldly up to
the gun.  The captain was Tom Marline, one of his assistant-guardians,
and he was a favourite with all the rest, so that there was no feeling
of jealousy excited against him.

Again he looked along it.  He waited his time till the smoke had cleared
away a little, and then once more he fired.  The shot hit--of that both
Marline and Paul Pringle were certain, but what damage was done they
could not determine.

"I pitched it astern, not far from the wheel," observed True Blue
quietly.  "Maybe it hit the wheel--maybe not."

Again the firing went on as before, and True Blue modestly returned to
his powder tub.  More than once he jumped up, anxious to have another
pull at the lanyard of his gun.  Paul, however, did not encourage this;
he wisely considered that he had done enough to establish a reputation,
which more shots would not have increased.

Suddenly Paul struck his hands together with delight.  "She is steering
wildly! she is steering wildly!" he cried out.  "True Blue, you did
knock her wheel away--you did, boy.  See what she's about!"

The French frigate as he spoke paid off right before the wind, and
presented her bows directly at the _Ruby_.  In that position she
received a raking broadside; but nothing could stop her--she was utterly
without guidance, and on she came like a battering-ram directly at the
beam of the _Ruby_.  Captain Garland, so sudden was the movement, could
accomplish no manoeuvre to avoid the collision.  The French ship's
jibboom, as she fell on board the English frigate, passed directly
between her fore and mainmasts, and there she hung, while it pressed so
hard against the already wounded mainmast that there appeared every
prospect of the latter being carried away.  Just before, a shot had
struck the boatswain and brought him mortally wounded to the deck.

Paul Pringle knew of his loss.  As he looked at the mast, strained to
the utmost, the main and spring stays being also shot away, he thought
to himself, "If the mast goes the Frenchman will break clear, and ten to
one, after all, escape us."

It was a time for decision, not for much consideration.

"Who'll follow me, lads?" he exclaimed, seizing an axe and springing
into the rigging.

Tom Marline and several other bold fellows did follow.  They had to
ascend and then to descend the tottering mast.  Terrific was the danger.
Should the mast fall, their death would be almost certain.  They
thought, however, only of the safety of the ship, or rather, how they
might best prevent the escape of the enemy.  With right good will they
plied their axes on the enemy's jibboom.  Bravely they hacked away, in
spite of the fire of musketry which was kept up from her decks.
Meantime a cry was raised below that the French were about to board.

"Boarders, repel boarders!" cried Captain Garland.

"I'll lead you, my lads!" exclaimed the first lieutenant.  "See, they
are not coming; but we'll be at them--hurrah!"

True Blue, finding that there was no more work for him to do in getting
up powder, and seeing Abel Bush and Peter Ogle, with a few others,
following Mr Brine on board the Frenchman, seized the cutlass of a
seaman who had just been killed close to him, and, in the impulse of the
moment, sprang after them.  In vain, however, their gallant leader
endeavoured to get on board from the upper deck.  Numbers of Frenchmen
stood in the head, and, in spite of all the activity of the British
seamen, they could not spring into it.  On finding this, quick as
lightning Mr Brine leaped down, and, followed by a few, reached the
maindeck.  Then, calling more round him, he sprang through the bow-ports
of the enemy's maindeck, with Peter Ogle, True Blue, and a few others,
driving all opponents before him.  Just at that moment, before all the
boarders had time to follow, Paul Pringle had succeeded in cutting
through the Frenchman's jibboom, with all the connecting rigging, and,
her head coming round, she was once more clear of the _Ruby_, and
drifting helplessly away from her.  Even while engaged in his task,
Paul's watchful eye had detected True Blue seizing the cutlass, and when
he followed Mr Brine he guessed his object.  Still he did not suppose
that those with him would allow the boy to board the Frenchman; and, at
all events, he was not the man to be deterred by any consideration from
completing the duty which he had undertaken.

The moment, however, that he had performed it thus effectually, he slid
down rapidly on deck and eagerly sought for his godson.  He was met with
a cry from Harry Hartland and Tim Fid, "Oh yes, Paul, he's gone--True
Blue's gone; he's on board the Frenchman, and they'll make mincemeat of
him--that they will!"

He observed, also, Abel Bush, Tom Marline, and others standing eyeing
the French frigate, the very pictures of anxiety and disappointed rage.
He saw too clearly that True Blue must have been one of those who had
been carried off in the French ship when she broke adrift from them.  To
assist in clearing her, the _Ruby's_ helm had been put aport, or to
larboard, as was then the expression, and this carried her still farther
away from _La Belle Citoyenne_.

Captain Garland was not aware for some little time that any of his
people had gained the enemy's decks.  The instant the fact was
communicated to him, he became doubly eager to get once more alongside.
The minutes, however, appeared like hours to those who knew that their
shipmates and friends were surrounded by exasperated foes, who were too
likely, in the heat of the moment, to give no quarter.  Paul Pringle
groaned with anxiety for the fate of his godson.  There he stood, his
huge beard blackened with smoke and dabbled with a shipmate's blood; his
hair, which had escaped from under his handkerchief when he went aloft,
streaming in the breeze; his brawny arm bared, and his drawn cutlass in
his hand; and looking truly like one of the sea-kings of old, the rovers
of the main, prepared for a desperate struggle with his enemies.  Just
then the sails of the French frigate were taken aback, and the effect of
this was to cause her to make a stern board, which drove her right down
on the _Ruby_.

Once more, by slightly shifting his helm, Captain Garland allowed her to
drop alongside, the respective bows and sterns of the two ships being in
opposite directions.

"And now, my lads, lash her fast!" he shouted.  "We must not let her
part from us till she is ours."

The very instant the sides of the two frigates ground together, Paul
Pringle, who, with a party of boarders, many of them old shipmates,
stood ready on the maindeck, sprang through the after-ports, shouting
out, "Remember little True Blue, boys!  Let us get back our Billy True
Blue!"

The clash of steel and the occasional report of pistols saluted their
ears, and there stood at bay the gallant little band, the lieutenant and
Peter Ogle, with most of the men, bleeding at every pore--one or two,
indeed, stretched lifeless at their feet; but True Blue himself was
nowhere to be seen.  Numbers were pressing round the gallant band, and
in another instant it seemed likely that they would have been
overwhelmed.  With such impetuosity, however, did Paul and his party
dash on board, that although numbers of the Frenchmen were thronging the
maindeck, they were rapidly driven back.  In vain they struggled--in
vain they fought.  Nothing could stop the fierce onslaught of the
British seamen.

High above all other cries, Paul Pringle's voice was heard shouting the
name of True Blue.  "We must find our True Blue.  Huzza for our True
Blue, boys!"

Thus timely relieved, Mr Brine was once more able to advance aft, and
now on both sides, led by him and by old Handlead, who was among the
first of the second party, the British tars swept the Frenchman's
maindeck fore and aft, cutting down or driving below all before them.

At length, when near the after-hatchway, the Frenchmen made a bold
stand, as if resolved to sell their lives dearly or to drive back their
assailants.  Just then, Paul caught sight of True Blue himself,
struggling to get free from between two of the after-guns, to which
place it was evident he had been carried as a prisoner.

"There he is, boys! there is our True Blue!" shouted Paul, and at the
same moment he and his companions dashed on with redoubled energy from
the check they had received, tumbled all the remaining Frenchmen down
into the cockpit, and in another instant Paul had once more grasped his
godson by the hand.

"You deserve one thing, Billy, and you shall do it!" he exclaimed.
"Follow me quick, though."

He sprang up the ladder to the upper deck.  Meantime the officers had
placed parties at the hatchways to keep in check those who had taken
refuge below, the remaining few who appeared on the maindeck having
thrown down their arms and prayed for mercy.

On the upper deck stood a gallant few surrounding their Captain, who lay
wounded among them at the foot of the mainmast.  They seemed scarcely
aware that their companions below had yielded, and that all hope of
resistance was vain.  The rush of the British seamen who now swarmed on
board and swept along the deck undeceived them, and, driven right and
left or overboard, the remainder dropped their swords and asked for
quarter.

Paul, followed by True Blue, had gained the main-rigging.  His quick eye
had discovered that the halliards of the Frenchman's flag, that of the
new Republic, led into the top.

"There, boy!" exclaimed Paul, "you must haul that down.  Quick, aloft!"

True Blue required no second order, but, springing up the ratlines
before anybody could overtake him, he had reached the top, when, seizing
the halliards, down came gliding the flaunting tricolour, followed
quickly by the red cap of liberty, which, unscrewing, he threw among the
people on deck; and three hearty cheers from the British crew announced
that the well-fought battle was won.

The gallant French Captain opened his dim eyes at the sound, to see the
emblem for which he had striven trampled under foot.  He had been
endeavouring, since he saw that all hope of escape was over, to tear to
pieces with his teeth and to swallow a paper which he had drawn from his
pocket.  Suddenly, while thus engaged, he saw the red cap fall like a
flash of fire from aloft.  His fingers released their hold of the paper,
and with a deep groan he expired.

Mr Brine stooped down by the side of his brave opponent.  The paper he
had been endeavouring to destroy was his commission; but another paper
projected from his pocket.  It was a code of private signals, which,
with noble patriotism, he had wished to prevent falling into an enemy's
hands.

"Well, I suppose there is some good in those Frenchmen after all!"
exclaimed old Handlead when he heard of it.  "He tried to serve his
country to the last, at all events."

No time was now lost in securing the prisoners and removing them to the
_Ruby_ as the two ships lay alongside each other.  Some of the Frenchmen
looked very glum, and evidently, if they could get an opportunity, meant
mischief; but they mostly yielded to the fortune of war with a shrug,
and by the evening were skipping away right merrily, to the sound of Sam
Smatch's fiddle.  Indeed, they had little cause for animosity against
him, as he had taken no part whatever in their capture, having
volunteered to remain below to assist the surgeon.  The English, in this
gallant action, a type of many which were to follow, had just fifty men
killed and wounded, while the French lost between sixty and seventy.
Just as the last of the prisoners were removed, and the prize crew of
the _Belle Citoyenne_ had got on board, the two ships separated.

When once more the two frigates were in a condition to make sail, and
were standing along amicably together, Captain Garland called the crew
aft.  "My lads," he cried, "all have done well to-day.  That fine
frigate, now ours, is the best proof of it--won, too, let me tell you,
from the moment the first shot was fired till the flag was hauled down,
in less than an hour.  When all have done their duty like brave British
seamen, I can scarcely pick out any in particular to praise; but there
is one lad among you who rendered material service in the work of the
day."

Paul Pringle brightened, and, his countenance beaming with pleasure, he
placed his hand on his godson's shoulder.  The Captain went on:

"There was one shot which especially tended to secure us the prize; that
shot was fired by the boy Freeborn--True Blue Freeborn.  I shall have my
eye upon him.  If he goes on as he has begun, he will be an honour to
the service, and rise in it, too, if I mistake not.  Lads, you have all
my hearty thanks, and our King and country will thank you too."

Three hearty cheers for their gallant Captain were given by the crew as
he finished his address; and then, however unexpected, and as Paul
Pringle expressed himself, "almost dumfoundering," three more were
raised for Billy True Blue Freeborn, the pride of the crew.  No one
shouted louder than Tim Fid and Harry Hartland; but Gipples growled out
as he sneaked below, "It'll be all the same some day when a shot takes
his head off.  They can't keep that on with all their petting."

The next day the frigate reached Portsmouth, where the brave French
Captain was buried with all the honours of war; and Captain Garland, and
his officers and ship's company, received the praises and rewards which
they so well-merited for their gallant achievement.



CHAPTER ELEVEN.

The frigate very soon had made good the damages she received in the
fight, and once more put to sea, all on board wishing for nothing better
than a similar encounter with another enemy, feeling full confidence
that the result would be the same.

One morning at daybreak, when True Blue had been sent aloft to take a
lookout and report any sail in sight, his keen eye detected a small
speck floating in the calm, hazy ocean.  He knew that the speck was a
boat, and hailed to that effect.  There was a light breeze from the
eastward, and the frigate, under all plain sail, was standing on a
bowline to the southward.  She was hauled up a few more points, to fetch
the boat, which it was soon seen, instead of attempting to escape, was
approaching the frigate.  Numerous were the conjectures as to what she
was; for although an open boat out in mid-channel was not exactly a
novelty, still any incident was of interest in those stirring times,
when all knew that apparent trifles often led to something important.

The boat appeared to be that of a merchantman.  Six men were in her;
four were pulling, and two sat in the sternsheets.  One of these was a
wrinkled, wiry old man, with a big red nightcap on his head, and a huge
green and yellow comforter round his throat, while a thick flushing coat
and trousers, and high boots, concealed the rest of his form.  The other
looked like the master of a merchantman.  As soon as they got alongside,
the latter begged that the boat might be hoisted up.  This was done; and
while the other men went forward among the crew, he and his
strange-looking companion repaired aft to the Captain's cabin.  The
information they gave seemed to afford infinite satisfaction to Captain
Garland.  Several of his officers were breakfasting with him.

"I trust, gentlemen, that, before many days have passed, we shall fall
in with another enemy's frigate, a worthy antagonist for the _Ruby_," he
remarked as soon as they were seated.  "We have also on board, I am
happy to say, one of the most experienced pilots for the Channel Islands
and the French coast to the westward--a Guernsey man; and, what is more,
I know that he is thoroughly to be trusted.  He and his companions were
on board a merchant vessel, captured by a French privateer; and as the
enemy leaped on the deck on one side, they slipped over the bulwarks on
the other, and, favoured by the darkness, effected their escape.  I
propose to run over to the French coast, and watch off Cherbourg for the
return of two French frigates, which, I understand, robber-like, go out
every night and return into harbour in the morning."

At first the crew were very much inclined to laugh at the odd appearance
of the old pilot; but Paul Pringle soon got into conversation with him,
and gave it as his opinion that the little finger of the old Guernsey
man knew more than a dozen of their heads put together, both as to
seamanship and as to the navigation of the adjacent coasts.  It quickly
became known that there was something in the wind, and that the Captain
hoped to fall in with another enemy before long.

Cape Barfleur, to the westward of Cherbourg, was made during the night.
The wind was off shore, and the _Ruby_ was close-hauled on the larboard
tack, when, as day dawned, a ship and a cutter were seen from her deck
coming in from seaward.  All hands were called up, the frigate was
cleared for action, and the men went to their quarters.  Every glass was
turned towards the approaching strangers.

"We shall have another scrimmage--that we shall!" exclaimed Tim Fid to
True Blue.  "I wonder what Gipples will do this time?"

"It's a pity he ever came to sea again after the last cruise," answered
Billy.  "He'll never make a sailor, and only bring shame on the name of
one."

"He's just fit to sell cat's meat," observed Harry.  "Maybe one of the
shot he's so afraid of will take his head off, as it might that of a
better fellow, and that will settle for him."

With this philosophical remark the boys sat down on their powder tubs to
await the commencement of the action; while poor Gipples, who had
overheard what was said, sat quaking on his in a most pitiable manner.

The _Ruby_ was kept edging away towards the supposed enemy.  As the
daylight increased, there was little doubt of her character, and she was
pronounced to be a thirty-six-gun frigate.

"A fit opponent for us!" exclaimed the Captain.  "We can allow her the
cutter's assistance, and we must see how quickly we can take them both."

The cutter, however, seemed to have no inclination to assist her
consort, from whom she kept hovering at some distance.

There was not much time for talking or speculation.  The _Ruby_ soon
ranged up on the weather and larboard side of the Frenchman, at whose
peak flew the ensign of Republican France.  It would have been throwing
away words to have exchanged compliments or interrogations in this case.
The Frenchmen, indeed, maintained a surly silence, till it was broken
by the rapid interchange of broadsides between the two well-matched
combatants.  The chances of war seemed, however, in this instance to be
going against the _Ruby_.  At the second broadside, down came her
fore-topsail-yard, followed soon afterwards by the fore-topmast.

"This will never do!" exclaimed Paul Pringle, beckoning to Billy and
sending a man to take charge of his tub.  "Come here, boy.  You must try
and see if you can't do as well as you did when we took the _Citoyenne_.
Give her as good at least as she has given us."

True Blue, nothing loth, began to take a sight along the gun.  Just then
the Captain had ordered the _Ruby's_ helm to be put hard a-starboard, by
which she came suddenly round on the opposite tack, and brought her
larboard guns to bear on the enemy.

True Blue, finding the ship going about, knew that no time was to be
lost.  He fired, and the enemy's foreyard came instantly down.  The
effect was to throw her up into the wind, in which position she received
a raking broadside from the _Ruby_.

"That's your doing, True Blue.  All at the gun saw it--I know they did."

"Yes, that was True Blue's shot, as sure as a gun!" cried Tom Marline.
"You shall have as many more as you like, Billy."

Again True Blue fired, and the enemy's mizen-topmast came down.  This
enabled the _Ruby_ to sail round and round her, giving her numerous
raking broadsides.  Still the gallant Frenchman held out.  All this time
not a shot had been fired from the cutter, and, greatly to the annoyance
of the British sailors, she was seen making off under all sail for
Cherbourg.

At the same time, during a pause in the action, when the smoke cleared
off, another sail was descried to the northward, three or four leagues
off.  The sound of the firing had undoubtedly brought her thus far, and
there she lay becalmed, unable to get up and join in the fight.  Her
presence, however, was not welcomed by the _Ruby's_ crew.  She was
evidently a frigate.  If an enemy, she might prevent the capture of the
other Frenchman, and indeed endanger the safety of the _Ruby_ herself.
If a friend, they would rather have had the honour of taking their
antagonist singlehanded, as they fully expected to do.

As to there being any danger of their being captured, that did not enter
the heads of the British tars.

"Come, bear a hand, boys," said Paul.  "We must take this here chap
first, and then, if the calm holds for a little longer, we may get all
ataunto and be ready for the others.  One down, the other come on.
That's it, boys."

Strange to say, except one man, who had his leg broken by the recoil of
a gun he was fighting, not a man on board the _Ruby_ had been hit,
though it was evident that numbers of the Frenchmen had been killed, as
several were seen thrown overboard.  The British began to grow
impatient.  The French frigate was holding out, probably in expectation
of assistance from her consort.  The breeze now increased, and the
stranger in the offing approached.

"Hurrah!" cried Paul Pringle, "another broadside, lads, and the
Monsieurs will haul down their flag."

Paul's assertion proved correct.  Down came the Frenchman's colours,
after an action which lasted two hours and ten minutes.  She proved to
be the thirty-eight-gun frigate _Reunion_, Captain Francois Adenian.

Numbers of people stood on the French shore watching the combat, and
much disappointed they must have been at its termination.  The
_Reunion's_ consort, the _Semillante_, was seen to make an attempt to
come out of harbour to her assistance; but there was not wind sufficient
for her to stem a contrary and very strong tide.

"I do wish she'd come!" exclaimed Paul Pringle as he eyed her, while he
and his companions were repairing damages, again to make sail.  "We'd
have her too--I know we should."

"I thought that I should bring you good luck, Monsieur le Captain," said
the old pilot when the action was over; "I always do."

"I hope you will stay with us and bring us more, then," answered Captain
Garland.

"With all my heart," was the answer; and so it was arranged.

Some time after this the _Ruby_ put into Plymouth, from whence she was
ordered to proceed to Guernsey in company with the _Druid_, a
thirty-two-gun frigate, and the _Eurydice_, a twenty-four-gun ship.

A bright lookout was as usual kept.  The squadron had got to the
distance of about twelve leagues to the northward of the island, when
one of the lookouts hailed that two ships were in sight to the westward.
Presently two more and a fifth was made out.  Whether friends or foes,
at first it was difficult to say; but clear glasses were brought to bear
on them, and it was declared that they were two fifty-gun ships, two
large frigates and a brig, which had crowded all sail in chase.

Many a man might have been daunted by these fearful odds.  True British
seamen never give in while there is a possibility of escape.  Captain
Garland called aft the old Guernsey pilot and had a short conversation
with him.  "Then I'll do it," was his remark, and threw out a signal for
the _Eurydice_ to make the best of her way under all sail for Guernsey.

Meantime he and the _Druid_, under easy sail, waited the approach of the
enemy.  On they came, exulting in their strength, and confident of
making prizes of the two British frigates.  The latter, nothing daunted,
opened their fire on the enemy in a way which must not a little have
astonished them.

"Our Captain knows what he is about," observed Paul Pringle in his usual
quiet way, as some of the frigate's shots were seen to strike the
headmost of one of the French ships.

"What!  Paul, are we going to take all those big ships?" asked True Blue
with much animation.  "That will be fine work."

"As to taking them, Billy, I can't say," answered Paul.  "It won't be
bad work if we don't get taken ourselves, do ye see."

Never, however, did two ships appear in greater jeopardy than did the
_Ruby_ and her consort.  True Blue observed his Captain.  There he stood
calm and composed, watching every movement of the enemy, with the old
pilot by his side.  They were now rapidly approaching Guernsey, and
could be seen from the shore, all the neighbouring heights of which were
crowded with spectators, eager and anxious witnesses of the unequal
contest.  Although both the English frigates fired well, they had not as
yet succeeded in bringing down any of the Frenchmen's spars.

Captain Garland now threw out another signal.  It was to order the
_Druid_ to crowd all sail and make the best of her way for the harbour.
Those on board her could scarcely understand his object.  It appeared as
if he was about to sacrifice himself for the sake of preserving the
other two ships.  The Captain of the _Druid_ was too good an officer not
to obey orders simply because he could not understand their object, or
he would have been inclined rather to have gone to the _Ruby's_ aid, and
to have shared her fate, whatever that might have been.

As soon as Captain Garland saw that the _Druid_ was obeying his
directions, he boldly hauled up and stood right along the French line,
at which the frigate kept up all the time a hot fire.  The enemy kept
firing away all the while in return; but their gunnery was fortunately
none of the best, and but few of their shot had hitherto struck the
_Ruby_.

"Well, what are we going to do now, Paul?" asked True Blue.  "Does the
Captain intend to try and weather on the Frenchmen, and so get clear?"

"Wait a bit, Billy," answered his godfather.  "You'll see presently.
The Captain means to proceed to Guernsey, and to Guernsey, it's my
opinion, we shall go, in spite of all the Frenchmen may do to try and
prevent us."

On stood the gallant _Ruby_.  The two frigates and brig were passed;
then came one of the big ships, then the other.  The _Eurydice_ was now
close in with the harbour and safe.  The _Druid_ was so near that,
unless becalmed, there appeared no doubt about her getting in.

"Now, my lads," cried Captain Garland, "be sharp in all you do!"

The helm was put up, the yards were squared, and on she stood towards a
collection of rocky islands, islets, and shoals, apparently to
destruction.  The never-quiet ocean was sending dense masses of spray
and foam over the rocks.  The old pilot stood calm by the Captain's
side.  The Frenchmen, who had concentrated all their attention on the
_Ruby_ and let the other two ships escape, now bore up after them.

On she stood under all sail towards the rocks.  The old pilot took his
stand in the weather-rigging.  The helmsman's eye was upon him, ready to
answer each wave of his hand, or deep-toned sound of his voice.  The
guns were deserted, and all the crew stood by either the tacks or sheets
or braces, or crowded the tops aloft, ready with all possible rapidity
to make any alteration in the sails which a shift of wind or change of
course might require.

Still the enemy kept firing at the frigate, but their shot fell either
altogether short or wide of their mark.  The wind increased--the frigate
flew on.  On either side of her there appeared white foaming seas,
dancing up fantastically and wildly, without apparent cause, but which
the seamen well knew betokened rocks and shoals.  They were aware that
they were among the most dangerous reefs on that rock-bound coast.

No one in the ship had ever been there except the curious old pilot.
There he stood, as cool and collected as if the ship were sailing in the
open sea, with a gentle breeze filling her canvas.  The Captain stood
near the pilot, and they all knew that they could trust him, and so were
content if he trusted the old Guernsey man.

"He knows what he's about," observed Paul Pringle to his godson, looking
at the pilot.  "Mind, Billy, that's what you must always do.  Never
attempt to do what you don't know how to do; but then what I say is, set
to work and learn to do all sorts of things.  Never throw a chance away.
Note all the landmarks as we go along now, and whenever you go into a
harbour mark them in the same way."

"Ay, ay, Paul," answered Billy; "I'll do my best."

"That's all any man can do," remarked his godfather.  "Stick to that,
boy, and you'll do well.  But, I say, I wish those Monsieurs would just
try and follow us.  We might lead them a dance which would leave them on
some of these pretty rocks alongside."

True Blue's interest in what was going forward was so great that he
could scarcely reply to Paul's remarks.  The sea foamed and roared on
either side of the ship.  Now the water became smoother over a wider
surface, now black rocks rose sheer out of the sea as high as the
hammock nettings, and then once more there was a bubbling, and hissing,
and frothing, betokening concealed dangers, which none but the most
experienced of pilots could hope to avoid.  Meantime, many an eye was
turned towards the French squadron.  It was scarcely to be expected that
the enemy should be ignorant of the surrounding dangers; still no one
would have been sorry if, in their eagerness, they had run themselves on
shore.

Suddenly the leading French ship was seen to haul her wind--so suddenly,
indeed, that the next almost ran into her, and, as it was, shot so far
beyond her that she must have almost grazed the rocks before her yards
were braced up, and she was able to stand off shore.  In a few minutes
more the _Ruby_ ran triumphantly into Guernsey roads, where the _Druid_
and _Eurydice_ had already arrived in safety, while thousands of
spectators were looking down and cheering them from the surrounding
heights.

"I knew our Captain would do it!" exclaimed Paul, when, the sails being
furled and the ship brought to an anchor, he and his messmates were once
again below.  "There are few things a brave man can't do when he tries.
Our Captain can fight a ship and take care of a ship.  What I've been
saying to Billy is, that we should never give up, however great the odds
against us, because, for what we can tell, even at the last moment
something or other may turn up in our favour.  Mind, Billy, whatever you
may think now, you'll find one of these days that what I tell you is
right."



CHAPTER TWELVE.

The frigate did not remain long at Guernsey, but, with the rest of the
squadron, put to sea.  She soon separated from them, and stood down
Channel to extend her cruise to the distance of a couple of hundred
leagues or so to the westward of Cape Clear.

As usual, she was very successful and picked up several prizes.  Among
the prizes were three large merchantmen and two privateers.  The latter,
especially, required a considerable number of men to take them home.
Captain Garland was unwilling thus to weaken his crew, and yet the
prizes were too valuable to abandon.  These vessels had just been
despatched when a brig was descried from the masthead.  Chase was given.
She was a fast vessel and well handled, but before night she was come
up with.  When her Captain saw that he had no longer any hope of escape,
he, like a wise man, hove to and hauled down his colours.

She proved to be _La Sybille_, a French letter of marque, carrying eight
guns, twenty-five men, and bound for the French West India Islands with
a valuable cargo.  The prisoners, with the exception of four, three
white men and a black, who were left on board to assist in working her,
were removed to the frigate; and Captain Garland, who could not spare
any more lieutenants or mates, sent a midshipman and prize crew to take
charge of her.

The midshipman's name was Nott.  He was generally called in the mess
Johnny Nott.  He was as short as his name, but he was a brave, dashing
little fellow; but though he had been some time at sea, being very idle,
his navigation, at all events, was not as first-rate as he managed to
make it appear that it was when he had the honour of dining with his
Captain.  Captain Garland sent for him and told him that he would spare
him two men and a couple of boys, and he expected that with them and the
prisoners he would be able to carry the brig safe into Falmouth or
Plymouth.

"I shall send one of the quartermasters with you, Pringle.  He is a
steady man; and you shall have Marline and Freeborn, who is as good as a
man, and the boy Hartland: he is steady."

"May I have Fid, sir, also?" put in Nott, who was always free-spoken and
wonderfully at ease with his Captain.  "He is such an amusing young dog.
He'll keep the rest alive by his jokes, if he does nothing else."

"You may take him, Mr Nott; but take care that they don't get to
skylarking and fall overboard," said the Captain.

"Oh no, sir," answered the midshipman; "I'll maintain the strictest
discipline, and hope to have the brig safe in harbour in the course of a
few days."

Captain Garland smiled at the air with which Johnny Nott spoke, and,
shaking him by the hand, sincerely wished him a prosperous passage.

Meantime the first lieutenant had sent for Paul Pringle, and, knowing
how thoroughly he could be trusted, had given him his instructions to
look after Mr Nott--in other words, to act as his dry-nurse.

"I need not tell you how to behave, Pringle," observed the lieutenant.
"You must advise him when to shorten sail, and what to do, indeed, under
any emergency; and let him, as much as possible, suppose that he is
following his own ideas."

"Ay, ay, sir," answered Paul, not a little flattered.  "I know pretty
well how to speak to most of the young gentlemen; I always leave them to
fancy that they are telling me what to do.  Most young gentlemen
nowadays are fond of `teaching their grandmothers to suck eggs,' and I
never stop them when they like to do it."

"All right, then, Pringle," answered Mr Brine; "we understand each
other clearly.  Keep order among the boys, and have an eye on the
prisoners."

All arrangements being made, Mr Nott, with his quadrant, book of
navigation, and his crew, went on board the prize and took charge of
her, instead of the officer who had boarded her when she was captured.

Scarcely had he got on board and made sail than a large ship was seen to
the southwest.  The frigate signalled the brig to continue on her
course, and then stood away in chase of the stranger.  Johnny Nott would
much have liked to have gone too, for he could not help fancying that
the stranger was an enemy, and if so, he knew full well that whatever
her size, even should she happen to be a line-of-battle ship, his
Captain would very likely bring her to action.  Though he dared not
follow her, he waited till he guessed that no one on board would be
paying him any attention, and then, having persuaded himself that there
would be no harm in so doing, hove the brig to, that he might have a
better chance of ascertaining what might happen.

He then ordered True Blue to the masthead to watch the proceedings of
the stranger.  The wind was about north-west; the stranger was steering
about east, and had apparently come from the southward.  In a little
time Billy hailed that she had brailed up her courses.

"Then, sir," observed Paul, "depend on it she is an enemy."

"I wonder what size she is?  What do you think, Pringle?" asked the
midshipman.

"Freeborn can tell better than any of us," was the reply; and on Billy
being hailed, he reported her a heavy frigate or a fifty-gun ship.

"I only hope our bright _Ruby_ won't find that she has caught a Tartar,
then," said Johnny Nott.  "I don't think that we could be of much use if
we were to go and try and help."

"Never fear, sir," observed Paul; "our Captain will know how to tackle
with her, whatever she is."

While this conversation was going forward, True Blue hailed that the
frigate was again making signals, and on Johnny Nott referring to his
book he discovered that it was a reprimand ordering him to make all sail
to the eastward.  Had he persevered in remaining hove to, he would have
been guilty of an act of insubordination, and most reluctantly,
therefore, he made sail and stood on his proper course.

When daylight returned the next morning the frigate was nowhere to be
seen, and _La Sybille_ continued her solitary course towards England.

The Frenchmen had hitherto behaved in a perfectly orderly, quiet manner,
and obeyed cheerfully the orders issued to them.  No change, indeed, was
exhibited towards their English captors; but they soon began to quarrel
among themselves, and were constantly fighting and disputing.  If they
did not actually proceed to blows, they appeared every instant as if
about to do so.  Their conduct was reported to Mr Nott.

"No great harm in that," he remarked.  "If they are quarrelling among
themselves, they are less likely to combine to play us any tricks."

Not many hours had passed before, while he was below, one of the
Frenchmen was left at the helm, and True Blue, who was forward, saw
another come up on deck, and, with a capstan-bar in his hand, make a
blow, so it seemed, at the helmsman's head.  He missed it, however, and
the bar, descending with full force on the binnacle, smashed it and the
compasses within it to pieces.  Billy remarked the men.  There was a
great deal of jabbering, vociferation, and action, but neither of them
struck or hurt the other.

As he watched them an idea occurred to him.  "I don't think those
fellows did that by chance," he said to himself.  "I will keep an eye on
them."

The noise brought Mr Nott and Paul Pringle on deck.

"A pretty mess you have made, Messieurs," observed the midshipman, who
spoke a sufficient amount of bad French to make himself perfectly
understood by them, and this was one of the reasons why he had been
selected to command the brig.  "If I was to give you four dozen each, or
put you in irons, or stop your grog, you'd only get what you deserve.
Now, go and find another compass and put the binnacle to rights.  You
Frenchmen are handy at that sort of thing."

The men slunk off as if very much ashamed of themselves, and Paul
Pringle took the helm.  True Blue, however, watched them, and he was
certain that there was a laugh in their eyes, giving evidence that they
were well content with what they had done.  When they went below also,
they seemed to be on perfectly good terms with each other.

On search being made, no compass whatever was to be found.

"I thought that I had observed, when I first came on board, a spare
compass and boat compass," observed Mr Nott.

But the Frenchmen, on being interrogated, all declared that they were
not aware that there were any others, and said that if there were, they
were private property, and that the Captain had taken them with him.
The other Frenchmen appeared to be very angry at what their countrymen
had done, and did their best to ingratiate themselves with Mr Nott.
The difficulty was now to know how to steer.  The midshipman's knowledge
of navigation was put to a severe test.  While the sky was clear, either
by night or by day, it was tolerably easy to steer more or less to the
eastward; but whether they should hit the chops of the Channel or run on
shore on the coast of Ireland or France, or the Scilly Islands, it was
impossible to say.

"We must do our best, sir, and trust in Providence," observed Paul
Pringle to the young officer.  "Only there's one thing I'd do--I'd
rather steer to the nor'ard than the south'ard of our course, so as to
avoid the chance of running ashore on the Frenchman's coast.  Of all the
places I should hate most it would be a French prison."

True Blue was certainly not of a suspicious disposition, but he could
not help watching the Frenchmen.  He whispered his ideas also to Harry
and Tim Fid, who agreed to keep a watchful eye on the prisoners.  Little
did the Frenchmen think how narrowly all their proceedings were noted.
Fid soon remarked that when either of the Frenchmen was at the helm, one
of the others was constantly going to a chest in the forepeak and
looking steadily into it.  His curiosity was therefore aroused to
ascertain what it was they went to look at.  He reflected how he could
discover this without being seen.

Some of the crew slept in the bunks or standing bed-places arranged
along the sides of the vessel, but others in hammocks.  The hammocks
were, however, not sent up on deck every day as they are on board of a
man-of-war.  One of these hung over the Frenchmen's chests, and into it
Tim stowed himself away, making the lower surface smooth with the
blankets, so that the form of his body should not be observed.  A slight
slit in the canvas enabled him to breathe and to look down below him.
Poor Fid had to watch a considerable time, however, and felt sadly
cramped and almost stifled without being the wiser for all the trouble
he had taken.  The Frenchmen were there; but first Tom Marline came
below, and then Hartland, and then the black; and the Frenchmen sat on
the lockers cutting out beef bones into various shapes and polishing
them.

At last all but one man went on deck, and then he jumped up, and
instantly going to the chest opened it; and then Tim saw clearly a
compass, and, moreover, that the brig was steering a course considerably
to the southward of east.  The Frenchman then put his head up through
the fore-hatchway, took a look round, and then, again diving into the
forepeak, had another glance at the compass.

"That's it," thought Tim; "True Blue is right.  The Frenchmen intend to
run us near their own coast and then rise on us, or they hope to fall in
with one of their own cruisers and be retaken.  Small blame to them."

The thread of his soliloquy was interrupted by his observing the
Frenchman go to a chest on the opposite side, which, when opened, he saw
was full of arms, cutlasses, long knives, and pistols.  The man sat down
by the side of it, and deliberately began to load one after the other,
and then to arrange the knives and dirks, so that they could in an
instant be drawn out for use.

"Ho, ho!" thought Tim; "that's your plan, is it?  Two can play at that
game, we will show you!"

Fid was now very anxious to get out of his hiding-place, and to go and
tell True Blue what he had seen.  The Frenchman, however, after he had
made all his arrangements, put a brace of pistols into his pocket and
stuck a dirk into his belt, concealed by his jacket, sat down on a
locker, and, with the greatest apparent unconcern, pursued his usual
occupation of bone-cutting.

Fid grew more and more impatient.  He waited some time longer, then he
saw the man prick up his ears and listen eagerly.  Presently there was
the sound of a scuffle on deck.  The Frenchman sprang up the ladder
through the fore-hatch-way.  As he did so a key fell from his pocket.
The moment he was gone, Fid jumped out of his hiding-place, picked up
the key, applied it to the chest which contained the arms--the lid flew
open.  He drew out several brace of pistols and a bundle of dirks.  He
stuck as many of both into his belt and pockets as he could carry, and
hid the others in the hammock in which he had been concealed, while the
key he also hid away.  All was done as quick as lightning.  Then, with a
pistol in one hand and a dirk in the other, he followed the Frenchman up
the hatchway.

As he did so he chanced to cast his eye aloft, when he saw True Blue in
the fore-rigging.  He signed to him to come on deck.  Billy saw him, and
slid down rapidly by the foretop-mast-stay.  On looking aft they saw
Hartland and Mr Nott stretched on the deck, apparently lifeless, while
the three Frenchmen, with the black, were making a furious attack on Tom
Marline, who had the helm, while Paul Pringle stood by defending him
with a boat's stretcher.  Neither Pringle nor Marline had arms, while
two of the Frenchmen and the black had dirks, and the third Frenchman,
as Fid knew, had pistols.  Fid immediately handed a brace of pistols and
a dirk to True Blue, and together they rushed aft.  Paul saw them
coming, but the Frenchmen did not.  One of them had cocked his pistol,
and was taking a deliberate aim at Paul, when True Blue, who at that
instant had reached the quarterdeck, lifted his arm and fired.

The Frenchman staggered a few paces, fired his pistol in the air, and
then fell to the deck.  To prevent his companions from seizing his
weapons, Fid drew them from his pocket and bolted off with them round
the deck.  Before, however, the smoke of the pistol which True Blue had
fired had cleared off, he had sprung to the side of Paul Pringle and
handed him the remaining pistol and a dirk.  Paul on this sprang on the
Frenchmen.

The black was the first to fly.  The other two men, finding themselves
clearly overmatched, retreated forward and gained the fore-hatchway.  It
was blowing fresh, so that Marline was afraid if he left the wheel the
brig would broach to.  Consequently only Paul and True Blue pursued the
Frenchmen.  One of them leaped down the fore-hatchway.  As he did so a
pistol-shot was heard, and Fid immediately afterwards appeared at the
same place, exclaiming:

"I've done for the fellow--settle the other two!"

Fid held a pistol in his hand.  The black saw it, and sprang at the boy
to seize it; but True Blue, who saw it also, was too quick for him, and
had got hold of it just before the negro reached the spot.  Fid sprang
out of his way; and so eager had he been, that he pitched head-forward
down the hatchway.

The last Frenchman attempted to defend himself; but when he saw Paul and
the two lads with arms in their hands approaching him, while his
companions were unable to assist him, he knew that resistance was
useless and cried out for quarter.

"You don't deserve it, Monsieur Crapaud," answered Paul; "but I'm not
the fellow to take a man's life in cold blood.  Howsomdever, there's one
thing I'll take, and that is, good care you don't attempt to play us
such a trick again.  Here, Billy, hand me that coil of rope.  We'll keep
him out of harm for the present."

Saying this, while True Blue stood by presenting a pistol at the
prisoner's head, Paul proceeded to lash his arms and legs, and to secure
him to one of the guns.

"Well done, mate!" exclaimed Tom Marline from aft.  "And now just come
and have a look at Mr Nott.  I think that he's coming to."

"And I do hope that Harry isn't killed either!" cried Fid.  "He's
breathing, and that's more than dead men can do."

In a little time both Mr Midshipman Nott and the boy Hartland came to
themselves, and sat up rubbing their eyes, as if trying to understand
what had occurred.  The moment the truth flashed on Mr Nott's mind, he
sprang to his feet, and, seizing a stretcher, the nearest weapon he
could lay hold of, stood on the defensive, looking about for an enemy.

He was much relieved in his mind when he saw one of the Frenchmen lying
not far off dead on the deck, and another sitting bound, where Paul and
True Blue had placed him, between the guns.

"What! have we come off victorious in the struggle?" he exclaimed,
turning to Marline.

"Yes, sir," answered the seaman, "we've been and drubbed the Monsieurs;
but there are still two on 'em below kicking up a bobbery.  If you'll
take the helm, sir, I'll go and help Pringle to make them fast."

"No, no," answered the midshipman somewhat indignantly, as if his
courage or strength had been called in question.  "I can do that.  You
stay at the helm."

When the Frenchman and the black had jumped down into the forepeak, Tim
Fid had very wisely clapped the hatch on, so that they were left in
darkness, and were also unable to return again on deck.  Pringle was on
the point of taking off the hatch to secure the two men when the
midshipman got forward.

"Very glad, sir, to see you all to rights," said Paul, looking up.  "I
suppose that you'll wish us to get hold of the two fellows down below?"

"By all means.  I'll hail them and advise them to surrender at
discretion."

The hatch was taken off, and Mr Nott explained, as well as his limited
knowledge of French would allow, that all their chance of success was
gone.  Only the black man answered.  Mr Nott ordered him to come up.

"_L'autre est mort_," (the other is dead), said he as he made his
appearance, looking very much frightened.

"He is as treacherous as the rest; it will not do to let him be at
liberty," said Mr Nott.  "It was he who knocked me down and began the
mutiny."

The black was accordingly lashed to a gun on the opposite side of the
deck, facing his companion.

On going below they found that the Frenchman whom Fid had shot was not
dead, having only been stunned by the fall.  He would, however, very
shortly have bled to death had they not bound up his wound.  In mercy to
the poor wretch, they placed him in a bunk, but did not tell him that
either of his companions had escaped.

"Ah, I deserve my fate!" he observed to Mr Nott.  "Had we succeeded, we
should have thrown you all overboard and carried the vessel into a
French port.  There is a large sum of money on board stowed away below
the after-lockers.  It escaped the vigilance of the officers who
examined the vessel.  We knew of it, and for its sake we intended to get
rid of you, that we might obtain possession of the whole."

"Much obliged for your kind intentions," answered Johnny, laughing.
"The dollars we'll look after, and you will consider yourself a prisoner
in your berth till I give you leave to get out of it.  If you put your
head above the hatchway, you'll be shot.  That is an understood thing
between us."

The Frenchman could only make a grimace as a sign of his acquiescence.

"I'm in earnest, remember!" said Mr Nott as he climbed up the ladder on
deck.

Fid now reported all that he had done, and he and True Blue received the
praise from their young commander which they so fully merited.  The
compass was got up on deck and shipped in the binnacle, and the arms
were carried aft and placed in the cabin.  The other chests belonging to
the Frenchmen were broken open; but nothing particular was found in
them.

When all these arrangements were made, the officer and his small crew
assembled on deck to hold a council of war.

"The first thing we had better do, sir, is to shorten sail, seeing how
shorthanded we are," observed Paul Pringle.  "We couldn't do it in a
hurry, and if it comes on to blow, our spars and sails may be carried
away before we know where we are."

This advice was too good to be neglected.  "Then, sir, as these
Frenchmen have been steering to the southward and east whenever they
have had the helm, oughtn't we to steer so much to the nor'ard to make
up for the distance we have run out of our course?" observed True Blue
with much modesty.

"Capital idea, Freeborn!" exclaimed the midshipman with a patronising
air.  "You've a very good notion of navigation; we'll do it."

Mr Nott now took the helm, while the crew went aloft to furl the
lighter canvas and to take a reef in the topsails.  While True Blue was
on his way up to hand the main-royal, his eye fell on a vessel following
directly in the wake of the brig, which might have been seen long before
had not they all been so fully occupied.  He hailed Mr Nott and pointed
her out.

The midshipman, who, from being at the helm, could not at the same time
take a steady look at her, inquired what she was like.  "A schooner,
sir, with a wide spread of canvas," answered True Blue.  "She seems to
be coming up fast with us."

"All hands come down on deck!" shouted Mr Nott.  He then asked Paul
what he thought of the stranger.

"She does not look like an English craft, and may be an enemy--a
privateer probably," was the answer.  "I suppose, sir, you'll think fit
to hold on and try and get away from her?" continued Paul.  "It will
soon be growing dark, and if the weather becomes thick, as it promises
to do, we may alter our course without being discovered."

"Yes, exactly--that is just my idea," observed Mr Nott.  "We could not
have hit upon a better."

The sail was consequently not taken off the brig, which, under other
circumstances, it ought to have been; and on she stood, the breeze
gradually increasing, and the weather becoming more and more unsettled.
Mr Nott watched the schooner.  It was very clear that she was gaining
on the brig.

"It is very probable that we shall have to fight, after all," he said to
himself.  "So, as the Captain always makes a speech to the crew before a
battle is begun, I think I ought to do so."

Accordingly, calling all hands aft, he cleared his throat and began.
"My lads," he said, imitating as well as he could the tone and manner of
Captain Garland, "we shall very likely have to fight that fellow astern
of us.  You'll do your duty like true Britons, I know you will--you
always do.  We will take her if we can.  If not, we'll try to get away
from her; but if we cannot do either, we'll blow up the brig and go down
with our colours flying.  I don't think that it matters much which.
Both are equally glorious modes of proceeding."

True Blue was very much taken with the speech, and told Harry Hartland
that it was just what he thought they ought to do; but Tim Fid said that
he hadn't made up his mind which he should prefer.  Blowing up was very
fine to look at, but going down must be a very disagreeable sensation.

Paul, meantime, took off his hat to reply.  "As you wish it, Mr Nott,
we'll fight the brig to the last, and maybe we shall knock away some of
her spars and get off.  I don't think we shall have much chance of
taking her, and as to blowing up or going down with our colours flying,
if the enemy send their shot through her sides, between wind and water,
and won't take us on board, we can't help ourselves; but perhaps, sir,
you'll just think over the matter about blowing up.  It would be like
throwing our best chance away.  I for one don't wish to see the inside
of a French prison; but you know, sir, even if we are taken, we may have
a chance of being retaken before we get into a French port, or of
escaping even when we are there.  Now, if we blow ourselves up into the
air, we shall have no chance of either."

"Very true, Pringle, very true," answered the midshipman; "I did not
think of that.  Well, we won't blow ourselves up; and if we find our
brig sinking, we'll strike our flag and yield.  There'll be no dishonour
in doing that, I hope.  Several brave officers have been obliged to
strike to a superior force at times; so it will be all proper, but it's
what the Frenchmen are more accustomed to do than we are."

There was no sun visible, so Mr Nott looked at his watch and found that
there would be scarcely more than an hour of daylight.

"If we can but keep ahead, we shall do," he remarked.

Paul agreed with him in this, but suggested that, by cutting away the
stern-boat, and by making two temporary ports in her stern, they might
fight a couple of long brass guns which they had found on board.  This
idea was immediately adopted, and all hands set to work to get the guns
and tackle ready, while Paul, with an axe, soon made the required ports.
He was not very particular as to their appearance.  With the aid of the
timber-heads, there were already a sufficient number of ringbolts to
enable them to work the tackles.

All this time the schooner was gaining on them.  Scarcely were these two
guns fitted and loaded than the schooner yawed, and a shot came skipping
along the water and disappeared close under their counter.

"Not badly aimed," observed True Blue, "but the range is too great.
Paul, don't you think that these long guns would carry farther?"

"Wait a bit, Billy," answered Paul; "we haven't much powder or many shot
to spare.  We won't throw away either till she gets a little nearer.
Then you shall have it all your own way."

True Blue, with this promise, was eager for the Frenchman to get nearer.
There had been no doubt that such the stranger was.  Her own colours
could not be seen; but, to make sure, Mr Nott first hoisted a French
flag.  No notice was taken of this.  Then he hoisted the English ensign
over the French, and immediately the stranger yawed and fired a
bow-chaser.

"You'd think it well to mystify them a little, sir," observed Paul.  "We
should do that if we hoisted the French flag over the English."

This was done, and for some time no other shot was fired.  Still the
stranger seemed to be not altogether satisfied.  The breeze was
freshening all this time, and at length it became evident that the brig
was carrying much more canvas than was necessary, unless she was trying
to get away from the schooner.  The stranger seemed to think so, at all
events, and without yawing fired a shot as a signal to the chase to
heave-to.

This was what no one but the prisoners had the slightest wish to do; and
so, as it was now getting dark, both flags were hauled down and not
again hoisted.

"Now, Billy," said Paul, "let us see, my boy, what you can do."

True Blue was in his glory.  He had a gun almost entirely to himself.
Tim Fid acted the part of powder-monkey; while he and Hartland had
charge of one gun, and Mr Nott, helped by Paul, worked the other.
Paul, indeed, stepped from gun to gun as his services were required.
Now they set to work in right earnest and began to blaze away as hard as
they could, while Tom Marline stood at the helm and steered the flying
brig.  He had no easy work either, for, with the immense press of canvas
she had on her and the strong breeze, it was with difficulty he could
keep her on her course.

True Blue was delighted to find that his shot, at all events, reached
the enemy.

"Paul, Paul, that shot hit her bows--I saw the splinters fly from them!"
he exclaimed while he and Harry were again loading.

"All right," answered Paul, who likewise saw the effect of the shot.
"Keep on like that, and you'll soon bring down some of the chap's
spars."

Meantime, Mr Nott was working away manfully with his gun.  He felt
rather vexed to think that a ship's boy was a better shot than himself;
only just then, as he wished to preserve the brig, he was thankful to
any one who could aid in accomplishing that object.  Now and then the
schooner fired; but as at each time, in order to do so, she had to yaw
and then keep away, she fired much less frequently than the brig.  The
Frenchmen probably also judged that, as they were rapidly coming up with
the chase, it was not worth while to throw their shot away.  As the
darkness increased, the wind got up more and more, and so did the sea,
and all around looked very gloomy and threatening.

"We must shorten sail, sir!" exclaimed Tom Marline at last, who had been
looking up ever and anon at the bending, quivering spars.

"Never mind, my man," said Johnny Nott with the greatest coolness, "the
brig will do that for herself better than we can.  We have enough to do
just now to try and wing the enemy."

There seemed a fair chance of their doing this.  The guns were
excellent, and True Blue's gunnery was first-rate.  But as the brig
tumbled about and pitched more and more, he found greater difficulty in
taking aim.  Still he persevered, and so did Mr Nott; and as it was far
too dark for them to see the effects of their shot, they both hoped that
they were doing a great deal of damage.  One thing concerned Paul
exceedingly.  He feared that, the instant they hauled their wind and got
out of their previous course, the masts would go over the side.

Still True Blue, regardless of everything else, kept firing away as fast
as ever.  What did he care what might happen besides just then?  There
was a fine brass gun he had been ordered to serve, and there was the
enemy.  The scud was flying rapidly overhead, the wind howled, the
thunder roared, and flash after flash burst forth from the sky, mocking
the tiny light of the British guns.  The whole ocean was of a dark slaty
hue, with white, hissing, foaming crests dancing up as far as the eye
could reach, while many came hissing up and almost leaped on board.  The
brig went tearing along, her masts bending and writhing as if they were
about to be torn out of her.  Suddenly there was a terrific crash, and
both the tall masts leant over and went by the board.  Fortunately they
fell forward and none of the party was hurt.

"Well, we have shortened sail with a vengeance!" cried the midshipman,
even at that moment unable to restrain a joke, though he felt in no
joking mood.  "Never mind the guns now.  Let us clear the wreck.
Perhaps the Frenchman may pass us in the dark."

This was a wise thought, as it was the best thing that could be done.
With axes and knives they set energetically to work to cut the ropes
which kept the masts and spars thumping against the vessel's sides like
battering-rams.

While thus engaged, True Blue exclaimed:

"See, see!--what is that?"

All hands looked up.  The dark outline of the schooner was visible
flying by them.  Just then a vivid flash of lightning darted from the
sky.  There was a loud crackling noise heard even amid the raging of the
rising tempest; the flame ran down the schooner's mainmast.  Shrieks
reached their ears; there was a loud roar like a single clap of thunder
without an echo; the whole dark mass seemed to rise in the air, and here
and there dark spots could be seen, and splashes could be heard close to
the vessel, and for a few seconds flames burst forth from where the
schooner had been seen; but in an instant they disappeared and not a
trace of her could be discovered.  The dismantled brig floated alone,
surrounded by darkness on the wild tumultuous ocean.



CHAPTER THIRTEEN.

The dismasted brig lay tumbling about, utterly helpless.  Neither moon
nor stars were visible.  The seas came roaring up around her, now
throwing her on one side, now on the other.  Her stern-boat had already
been cut adrift.

Not long after the disappearance of the schooner, a sea struck her
quarter and carried away one of the boats on that side, and at the next
roll the one on the opposite quarter went.

Mr Nott, with Paul and Marline, and the three boys, were clustered aft.

"Paul," observed True Blue, "the Frenchman and black can't play us any
tricks now.  They run a great chance of being drowned where they are;
couldn't we cast them loose and let them come aft here?"

"Right, Billy," answered Paul.  "We should be merciful even to our
enemies.  I had forgotten them."

Mr Nott offering no objection, Paul and True Blue worked their way to
the waist, where the two men sat bound.  Paul loosened the Frenchman,
and True Blue took out his knife and cut the lashings which bound the
black; and then, assisting him up on his legs, pointed aft, and by a
push in that direction intimated that he had better get there as soon as
possible.

Billy then bethought him of the wounded prisoner in the dark damp
forepeak, all alone, expecting every instant to be his last.  "I
shouldn't like to be left thus," he thought; "I'll go and see what I can
do for him."

Without, therefore, telling Paul what he was going to do, he worked his
way gradually forward, grasping tightly on by the belaying-pins and
cleats made fast to the bulwarks.

Just as he got close to the fore-hatch, he saw rolling up, just ahead of
the vessel, what looked like a huge black mountain with a snowy top.  It
was a vast sea appearing still larger in the darkness.  On it rolled,
roaring above the bows of the brig, and then with a terrific crash down
it came on her deck, threatening to swamp her and sweeping everything
before it.

True Blue's foot had been pressing against a ringbolt: a rope was made
fast to it.  He threw himself flat down, grasping the ring with one hand
and making several turns with the rope round the other.  He felt the
breath almost pressed out of his body with the weight of water rushing
above him; and then he fancied that the vessel herself was going down
and would never rise again.

The rush and the roaring sound of water passed on.  He felt the bows of
the brig rise once more; he lifted himself up on his knees and looked
over his shoulder.  The sea had made a clean sweep, and had carried away
the caboose, the boats on the booms, and every spar remaining on deck,
besides, as it appeared to him, a considerable portion of the larboard
bulwarks.

His anxiety was for his shipmates.  How had they withstood the rush of
waters?  He shouted; but though his voice was loud and shrill, the
howling of the tempest and the dash of the sea were louder.  He tried to
penetrate the darkness, but he could distinguish nothing beyond half the
length of the ship.  His heart sank lower than it had ever done before
at the thought that his faithful kind guardian might be torn from him
for ever.

Having started to visit the wounded Frenchman, he wished to do so before
he tried to find his way aft again to ascertain the state of the case.
He lifted the hatch off and dived below.  All was dark.  There were no
means of procuring a light in the place.

"I say, Monsieur Frenchman, how are you?" he began, groping his way
towards the bunk where the prisoner lay.

A groan showed that the man was not dead.  True Blue remembered that
there was some food in one of the lockers.  Taking some sausages and
biscuit, he put them into the man's hand.  "Here, eat; you're hungry, I
daresay."

"Merci! merci! de l'eau-de-vie, je vous prie, donnez-moi de
l'eau-de-vie."

Billy, on searching about, had found a can with a little water at the
bottom of it, and a flask of spirits; so, guessing what the man wanted,
he poured some of the spirits into the can and gave it to him.

The draught must have been very refreshing, for the Frenchman's
expression of gratitude knew no limits.  He made True Blue understand
that he had better take something himself.  This, as he was very hungry,
he was nothing loth to do; but he had not eaten much, and had only taken
one pull at the grog can when he recollected his friends.  He felt that
he could eat nothing more until he had ascertained their fate.

"If they are alive, they'll want to eat," he said to himself.  "They
can't be gone--no, no; I won't believe it."

So he filled his pockets with as many sausages and as much biscuit as
they could carry, and, shaking the Frenchman by the hand to show that he
would not be forgotten, he ascended the ladder, closed the fore-hatch
behind him, and began his perilous journey towards the stern.  The sea
on one side, he discovered, had made so complete a wreck, that he knew,
should he slip, there would be nothing to prevent his going overboard.

The greatest caution therefore was necessary.  He could feel the
ringbolts, but he could not see them, or indeed any object by which to
secure himself.  On hands and knees he crept on, feeling his way.  He
had got as far as the main hatchway when he saw another sea rising.  He
clung, as before, to a ringbolt.  Over came the water with a furious
rush, which would have carried any one unprepared for it away.  He felt
his arm strained to the utmost; still he had no notion of letting go.
When the sea had passed over, the vessel was steadier for an instant
than she had been.  He took the opportunity to make a bold rush to the
nearest part of the bulwarks remaining entire.  He now got aft with less
difficulty.  His heart felt lighter when he saw the group he expected
standing there; but Paul didn't come forward to welcome him.  Instead,
he heard Marline's voice say, "Rouse up, Pringle; rouse up, mate--the
boy is safe."

True Blue was in an instant kneeling down by the side of his guardian.
"I am here, Paul, I am here; Billy True Blue all right, godfather!" he
exclaimed, putting his mouth to Paul's ear.

"What has happened?  Is he hurt?" he asked.

"He has hurt his side and ribs, and we are afraid he has broken his
leg," answered Marline.  "We all thought that you were gone--washed
clean away, boy; but he wouldn't believe it, and started off to look for
you, when a sea took him and washed him back in the state you now see
him.  He was nearly carried overboard, and we have had hard work to save
him."

True Blue forgot everything else but the state of his friend, till at
length Paul came to himself and comprehended what had occurred.  The
knowledge that his godson was safe seemed to revive him.  Billy then
remembered the provisions he had got in his pocket, and served them out
among his companions, the two prisoners getting an equal share.

Dawn came at last, and presented a fearful scene of wreck and confusion:
the dark-green seas were rising up on every side, topped with foam,
which came down in showers on the deck, blown off by the fierce wind;
while the lately trim brig lay shattered and dismantled, and, too
evidently, far deeper in the water than she had been before the gale.

Not a boat remained; there were not even the means of making a raft.

"But what can we do, Paul?" asked True Blue, thinking how sad it was
that his fine old friend should thus ingloriously lose his life.  Paul
smiled as he answered:

"Trust in Providence, boy.  That's the best sheet-anchor a seaman can
hold to when he's done his duty and can do no more.  There are others as
badly off as we are, depend on that."

When his godfather had ceased speaking, True Blue cast his eye around in
the faint hope that some aid might possibly be at hand.  As he did so,
he saw that several pieces of wreck were floating round the brig.  As
the light increased, he thought he saw the form of a man on one of them.
He looked again; he pointed the spar out to the rest: they were of the
same opinion.  The man was alive, too.  He saw the wreck, he waved to
them, he turned his face with a look imploring assistance.

"Here, Tom, make this rope fast round me; I think that I can reach that
poor fellow.  The next send of the sea will bring him close alongside."

Though True Blue was a first-rate swimmer for his age, Marline demurred
and appealed to Pringle.

"He is only a Frenchman and an enemy, after all," argued Marline.

"He's a fellow-creature, Tom," answered True Blue.  "Here, make fast the
rope.  I am sure I can save him."

"Will you let him go, Paul?" asked Tom as a last resource.

Paul raised himself on his arm.

"If the lad thinks it's his duty to try and save the man, yes," he
answered firmly.  "If he loses his life, it will be just as a true
British sailor should wish to lose it.  Go, boy; Heaven preserve you."

There was an unusual tone of solemnity and dignity in the way Paul spoke
as he grasped his godson's hand.  The rope had by this time been
properly adjusted.  The piece of wreck with the man on it was drifting
nearer and nearer.  The man on it again waved his hand.  True Blue waved
his in return.  "He is alive!--he is alive!" he shouted.

"If go you must, now is your time," shouted Tom.

True Blue leaped off the deck into the raging sea.  Boldly he struck
out.  Down came a sea thundering towards him, hurling the spar with it.
There was a shriek of horror: all on board thought he was lost.  He had
only dived to avoid the sea.  Then up again he was on the other side,
clinging on to the spar, with his knife in his mouth, ready to cut the
lashings which secured the stranger to it.  It was done in a moment.  He
had him tight round the waist.

The stranger is now seen to be a boy not bigger than himself.  This
makes his task easier.  The spar drifts away; the two are in the water
together.

Tom and Mr Nott, and the other boys, and the Frenchman and the black,
haul away, and, with some severe bruises, rescuer and rescued are safely
brought on deck.

"It's Sir Henry, I do believe!" shouted Tom, hauling in the rope.

"Why, Elmore, my dear fellow, is it you?" exclaimed Johnny Nott, taking
the hand of the lad, who, with True Blue, had been dragged aft and
placed in as safe a spot as the deck afforded.  "We thought you were a
Frenchman."

"I scarcely know who I am.  I know that I have to thank Freeborn for my
preservation," answered the young baronet.

He took True Blue's hand.

"I do thank you heartily, Freeborn," he said with much emotion.

The excitement of the first minutes of his wonderful preservation over,
young Elmore felt the effects of the exposure to which he had been
subjected so long, and sank almost helpless on the deck.

"He wants food," said Tom.  "I wish that we had some."  True Blue
instantly volunteered to try and go and get it; but of this the rest
would not hear.

Marline said he would go; but he was wanted to look after the rest, and
take care of poor Pringle, who was utterly unable to help himself.
Neither the Frenchman nor the black volunteered to go.  The truth was,
they dared not face the danger.

"I'll go if I may!" exclaimed Tim Fid.  "If I am not strong, I'm little,
and a shrimp can swim where a big fish would be knocked to pieces."

"Stay, though," said True Blue.  "Here, make fast the rope round you.
If you are washed away, we can haul you in by it.  It served me a good
turn, it will now serve you one."

"A good thought," said Tim, fastening the rope round his waist, and away
he went.  He worked his way forward, as, True Blue had done; but just as
he was in the middle of the waist, a sea swept the deck, and would have
carried him off had it not been for the rope round him.

He was hauled back not a little bruised.  Still he insisted on making
another attempt.  Having kicked off his shoes, away he went.  The deck
was clearer than usual of water.  He ran and leaped along, and before
another sea came had reached the fore-hatch.  His first care was to make
the rope fast to the windlass.  Then he slipped off the hatch and
descended.  He soon again appeared, and succeeded in reaching the after
part of the vessel with a good supply of food and a can.

"There," he said, "that's full of honest grog; it will do all hands
good.  But, I say, we must try and get the poor Frenchman up out of his
bunk.  He'll be drowned in it if we don't in a short time."

It was agreed that the Frenchman and the black ought to perform the
duty; but it was not till they had taken several pulls at the grog can
that they seemed to understand what was required of them.  Even then Mr
Nott had to show a pistol, and hint that they should not remain where
they were if they did not go and help the wounded man.

The rope which Fid secured made the task comparatively, easy.  Led by
the little fellow himself, at last they set off.  When they got below,
they found so much water that the poor fellow was very nearly washed out
of his berth.  They managed, however, to get him on deck.  To carry him
aft, however, was the most difficult part of their task.  As it was, the
Frenchman, in his anxiety to take care of himself, let go his hold of
his wounded countryman; and had it not been for Fid and the black, he
would have been washed overboard.

At length they reached the stern in safety.  The account Fid gave,
however, of the quantity of water below, was truly appalling.  They
could not hope that the brig could swim many hours longer, and should
she go down, they had nothing on which to float; the boats were gone,
not a spar remained.  There were the hatches, certainly; but there would
scarcely be time to construct a raft out of them.

Mr Nott had, during this time, been attending to his messmate.  It was
some time before young Elmore again revived.

Nott was curious to know how his messmate had come to be on board the
schooner which had chased them.

"I will tell you in a few words," said Elmore.  "We had not parted
company with the frigate many hours before a strange sail hove in sight.
As I knew that we could gain but little by fighting should the stranger
prove an enemy, we did our best to run away.  The prize, however, sailed
badly, and the stranger, which turned out to be a large schooner, sailed
remarkably well.  We had a couple of guns; so we fired away with them as
long as we could till she ranged up alongside, when a number of men
leaped on our decks and we were obliged to give in.  I was carried on
board the schooner; but the rest of the men were left on board the brig
to work her, so that I hope that their lives may have been preserved.
She was a privateer out of Saint Malo.  Your determined attempt to
escape excited their anger to the highest degree; and at the very moment
that the vessel was struck by lightning, from the effects of which she
foundered, they were swearing vengeance against you, wherever you might
be.  Their terrific shrieks and cries, as one after the other they were
overwhelmed by the waves, made my heart sink within me.  Still I
determined not to yield as long as my strength endured, and I struck out
for dear life.  I soon found myself close to a shattered spar, to which
was attached a quantity of rigging.  I climbed up and lashed myself
securely to it.  Thus I passed the night.  I more than once thought I
saw the dismantled brig; and you may fancy my joy when I caught sight of
her at dawn.  Still I scarcely expected that anybody on board would be
able to render me assistance; and when I saw that all her boats were
gone, I almost gave up hope.  I have not thanked Freeborn as I wish; but
I have those at home who will thank him still more, if we are allowed to
reach dry land, and I am sure our Captain will thank him too."

While the lads had been talking, the appearance of the sky gave evident
signs that the gale was breaking.  Still the sea ran very high, and the
waterlogged wreck laboured in a way which made it doubtful whether each
plunge she made would not prove her last.  She sunk lower and lower, and
it was very evident that in a short time no part of her deck would be
tenable.  Anxiously, therefore, all eyes were looking out for a sail.
Each time that the brig rose to the top of a sea, they all looked out on
every side, in the hope of catching a glimpse of some approaching
vessel; and blank was the feeling when she again sunk down into the deep
trough and they knew that no help was near.

Suddenly True Blue shouted out, "A sail! a sail!--she is standing
towards us!"  He had seen her before, but was uncertain which way she
was steering, and he had not forgotten a caution given to him by Paul--
never to raise hopes when there is a likelihood of their being
disappointed.

The sea had for some time been decreasing; but there was still so much
that a boat would run considerable risk in boarding the wreck.  It was
soon proved that True Blue was right.  The stranger was steering towards
them.  On she came.  She was a brig, and showed English colours.

A cheer rose from the deck of the waterlogged vessel.  The brig came
down in gallant style; but she gave evident signs that she also had been
battling with the gale.  Her bulwarks were shattered, and not a boat was
to be seen on board.  Her flag showed her to be a packet.  A
fine-looking man stood in the main-rigging.

The midshipmen shouted, "We are going down, we fear.  Can you render
assistance?"

"Ay, ay--that I will!" answered the master of the packet.  "I will run
alongside you.  Stand by to leap on board!"

The least experienced of the party saw the great risk the packet was
running by this proceeding; for a send of the sea might easily have
driven the wreck against her and stove in her upper works.  This
consideration did not deter the gallant sailor from his act of mercy.
He made a signal as he approached, that he would pass the wreck on the
larboard quarter.  The Frenchman and the black were told that they must
help their wounded shipmate.  Tom and True Blue begged that they might
take charge of Paul, while the rest were to leap on board the instant
the vessels' sides touched.  The midshipmen and the two boys wanted to
stay and help Paul, but he would not hear of this.

"No, no," he answered; "if we talk about it, no one will be saved; and
if I am left on board, I shall be no worse off than we all have been
till now."

The packet tacked.  Now she stood down towards the wreck.  The sides of
the two vessels touched.  The midshipmen and two boys leaped on board.
So did the Frenchman and the black; they made a pretence of helping
their comrade, it seemed.  They placed him on the bulwarks of the wreck,
and then, when safe themselves, they were about to regain their hold of
him; but the poor wretch lost his balance, and with a cry of horror fell
between the two vessels.  The two men looked over the side with stupid
dismay, abusing each other; but their unfortunate comrade had sunk for
ever from their sight.

Meanwhile Tom and True Blue had made an attempt to lift Paul on board
the packet.  Had her crew known his condition, they probably would have
been ready to render assistance; as it was, his two friends, fearful of
letting him slip between the two vessels, lost the moment as the brig
glided by, and all three were left on the sinking wreck.

"Why have you done this?" said Paul when he saw that the packet had shot
ahead.  "You should have left me, boys."

"Left you, Paul!" exclaimed True Blue with an emotion he rarely
exhibited.  "How can you say that?  Please Heaven, we'll save you yet."

There was no necessity for hailing the packet.  They knew well that the
two midshipmen would make every effort in their power to render them
assistance.  Once more the brig tacked and stood towards them; but the
position of the wreck had changed, and it was impossible to run
alongside.

Again and again the gallant Captain of the packet tried the manoeuvre
without success.  At last, passing close to them, he shouted, "Lads, I
will heave you ropes; you must make yourselves fast to them and jump
overboard: it's your only chance."

"Tom, you must do it!" said True Blue, turning to Marline.  "It would
kill Paul; I'll stay by him.  We shall be taken off when the weather
moderates; and if not, I'm ready to go down with him."

Paul heard this.  "True Blue, I'm your guardian, and you must obey me!"
he said almost sternly.  "The ducking won't hurt me more than others.
Maybe it may do me good.  So, I say, make the rope fast round me, and
help me overboard when you two go, and I shall not be the worse for it."

Thus commanded, True Blue could no longer refuse obedience.  Down came
the packet towards them.  The ropes were hove on board.

"Tom, you can't swim--go by yourself.  I'll stay by Paul!" exclaimed
True Blue as he was securing the rope.  "Help me to launch him first.
Away, now!"

Paul was lowered into the water, True Blue keeping tight hold of the
rope just at his waist with his left hand, while he struck out with his
right.  Thus the two together were drawn through the foaming sea towards
the packet.  Arrived at the vessel's side, True Blue was of the greatest
service to Paul in protecting him from the blows he would otherwise have
received by the sea driving him against it.

Right hearty was the welcome they received from all hands, especially
from the gallant commander, Captain Jones.

Scarcely had the packet got a hundred fathoms from the brig when she was
seen to make a plunge forward.  The two midshipmen were watching her,
expecting to see her rise again.  They rubbed their eyes.  Another sea
rolled over the spot where she had been, but no sign of her was there.



CHAPTER FOURTEEN.

The _Chesterfield_ packet was bound from Halifax to Falmouth.
Fortunately among the passengers was a surgeon, who was able to attend
to Paul's hurts.  He set his leg, which was really broken, as were one
or more of his ribs.

The passengers, when they heard from Sir Henry Elmore and Johnny Nott of
True Blue's gallantry, were very anxious to have him into the cabin to
talk to him, and to hear an account of his adventures.  The young
midshipmen, knowing instinctively that he would not like this, did not
back the passengers' frequent messages to him; besides, nothing would
induce him to leave the side of his godfather, except when the doctor
sent him on deck to take some fresh air.

A strange sail was seen on the starboard bow.  In a short time she was
pronounced to be a ship, and, from the whiteness and spread of her
canvas, a man-of-war.  Elmore and Nott hoped that she might be their own
frigate.  They thought that it was a latitude in which she might very
likely be fallen in with.  Of course, till the character of the brig had
been ascertained, she would bear up in chase.  They expressed their
hopes to Captain Jones, and begged him to steer for her.

"Were I certain that she is your frigate, I would gladly do so; but as
you cannot possibly recognise her at this distance, we shall be wiser to
stand clear of her till we find out what she is.  I will not alter our
course, unless when we get nearer she has the cut of an enemy."

The midshipmen, having borrowed telescopes, were continually going aloft
to have a look at the stranger.

"I say, Elmore, it must be she.  That's her fore-topsail, I'll declare!"
exclaimed Johnny Nott.  Elmore was not quite so certain.

After a little time, they were joined by True Blue.

"Paul Pringle, sirs, sent me up to have a look at the stranger," he
remarked.

"I am very glad you have come, Freeborn," said Sir Henry.  "Your eyes
are the best in the ship.  What do you make her out to be?"

True Blue looked long and earnestly without speaking.  At last he
answered, in an unusually serious tone:

"She is not our frigate, sir--that I'm certain of; and I'm more than
afraid--I'm very nearly certain--that she is French.  By the cut of her
sails and her general look, she puts me in mind of one of the squadron
which chased us off Guernsey."

True Blue's confidence made the midshipmen look at the stranger in a
different light, and they finally both confessed that they were afraid
he was right.  Captain Jones agreeing with them, all sail was now
crowded on the brig to escape.

In spite of all the sail the brig could carry, the frigate was fast
coming up with her.

"I wish that we could fight," said Johnny Nott to Elmore.  "Don't you
think that if we were to get two of the guns aft, we might knock away
some of her spars?"

"I fear not," said his brother midshipman, pointing to the popguns which
adorned the packet's deck.  "These things would not carry half as far as
the frigate's guns; and, probably, as soon as we began to fire she would
let fly a broadside and sink us."

"Too true, Sir Henry," observed the brave Captain of the packet, who
stood on deck surrounded by the passengers, many of them asking all
sorts of useless questions.  His countenance showed how distressed he
was.  "In this case I fear discretion will form the best part of
valour."

Captain Jones cast anxious glances aloft, as well he might, and the
midshipmen and True Blue eyed the frigate; and Nott turned to his
messmate and said, in a doubting tone, "Elmore, what do you think of
it?"

The other answered sadly.  "There is no doubt of it.  She is coming up
hand over hand with us.  Freeborn, I am afraid that I am right."

"Yes, sir," answered True Blue, touching his hat.  "She is going nearly
ten knots to our six."

"Then she will be up with us within a couple of hours at most," said the
young midshipman with a deep-drawn sigh.

The breeze kept freshening rapidly.  The brig carried on, however, till
her royal masts went over the side, and her topgallant-masts would have
followed had the sails not been handed in time; and now all expectation
of escape was abandoned.

Still Captain Jones held on his course, remarking, "It will be time
enough to heave-to when her shot comes aboard us."

The crew went below and put on their clean things and a double allowance
of clothing, as well as all their possessions which they could stow away
in their pockets.  When they returned on deck, they certainly did look,
as Johnny Nott observed, "a remarkably stout set of Britons."

Sir Henry borrowed a midshipman's hat and dirk, as he had lost his own;
and Nott, who had a few sovereigns in his pocket,--a wonderful sum for a
midshipman,--divided them with him.  The Captain insisted, as the last
act of his authority, that all the passengers should remain below,
during which time the ladies, at all events, employed themselves in
imitating the example of the sailors.

At last a shot was heard; then another and another followed, and then a
whole volley of musketry.

Captain Jones kept calmly walking his deck till the French frigate began
to fire.  He then looked round: there was no ship in sight, no prospect
of escape; so, with a sad heart, hauling down the British ensign, he
ordered the topsails to be lowered and the courses brailed up, and thus
waited the approach of the enemy.  What was the astonishment and rage of
all on deck to have a volley of musketry fired right down on them, with
the coolest deliberation, from the forecastle of the frigate as she
ranged up alongside, and then, passing ahead of the brig, rounded-to
near her.

"_Ah, betes_! we will teach you dogs of Englishmen to lead a French ship
such a chase as you have done when you have no chance of escape!"
shouted some one from the quarterdeck.

A bullet passed through Elmore's hat; another struck Captain Jones on
the side, but in the excitement of the moment he did not perceive that
he was hurt; while a third grazed True Blue's arm, wounding the skin and
making the blood flow rapidly.  Without moving from where he stood or
saying a word, he took off his handkerchief and began to bind it up,
Harry Hartland and Tim Fid hurrying up with expressions of sorrow to
help him.

"Never mind this--it's nothing," he said, the tears starting into his
eyes.  "But it's the French prison for Paul I'm thinking of.  It will
break his heart.  And those brutes may take me from him."

The frigate now lowered all her boats, and sent them, with their crews
armed to the teeth, on board the brig.  The Frenchmen jumped on her deck
as if she had been a pirate captured after a desperate fight and long
chase.

Scarcely a word was spoken--not a question asked; but officers and men
were indiscriminately seized by the collars and hurled into the boats,
some of the French officers striking them with the flat side of their
drawn swords, and at the same time showering down the most abusive
epithets on their heads.

Captain Jones, whose appearance and bearing might have saved him from
insult, was seized by several men and thrust, with kicks, into the
nearest boat.

Just as the boats came alongside, True Blue had gone below to remain
with Paul Pringle.  The Frenchmen soon followed him.  He tried to show
by signs that his godfather was very much hurt.  This was evident,
indeed.  At first the men who came below were going to let him remain;
but the order soon reached them that all the English were immediately to
be removed from the brig.  Not without difficulty, True Blue got leave
to assist in carrying Paul, aided by Tom Marline, who had fought his way
down below to his friend, and the black cook.  With no help from the
Frenchmen, Paul was at last placed in a boat, with True Blue by his
side.

The passengers were scarcely better treated than were the seamen.  The
ladies and gentlemen were bundled out of the vessel together, and were
allowed to take only such articles as they could carry in their hands.
Some of the gentlemen who spoke French expostulated.

"Very good," answered the Lieutenant.  "You have chosen to lighten the
vessel of all public property, which would, at all events, have been
ours; we must make amends to ourselves by the seizure of what you call
private property."

As True Blue sat at Paul's head, his godfather looked up.  "Ah, boy!" he
said with a deep sigh, "this is the worst thing that I ever thought
could happen to us; yet it's a comfort to think that it isn't our own
brave frigate that has been taken, and that a number of our shipmates
haven't been struck down by the enemy's fire.  But it's the thoughts of
the French prison tries me.  Yet, Billy, I don't mind even that so much
as I should have done once.  You are now a big strong chap, and you
won't let them make a Frenchman of you, as they might have done when you
were little, will you?"

"No, Paul; they'll have a very tough job if they try it on--that they
will," answered True Blue with a scornful laugh which perfectly
satisfied his godfather.

"What are the brutes of Englishmen talking about?" growled out one of
the Frenchmen.  "Hold your tongues, dogs."

Neither Paul nor True Blue understood these complimentary remarks; but
the tone of the speaker's voice showed them that it might be more
prudent to be silent.

As soon as Captain Jones and his mates and the two midshipmen appeared
above the gangway of the French frigate, they were seized on by a party
of seamen, who threw them on the deck, knocked off their hats, out of
which they tore the cockades, and, with oaths, trampled them beneath
their feet.

In vain Captain Jones in a manly way appealed to the good feelings of
his captors.  In vain Sir Henry Elmore repeated what he said in French.
The Frenchmen were deaf to all expostulations.  The second Captain of
the frigate stood by, not only superintending, but aiding in inflicting
the indignities with which they were treated.

They were next dragged off and brought into the Captain's own cabin.
Here they expected to be better treated; but no sooner did the Captain
enter, than, walking up and down and showering on them the most abusive
epithets, he ordered his men to take away their swords and dirks, and to
strip off their coats and waistcoats, exclaiming as he did so:

"No one on board _La Ralieuse_ shall wear the livery of a despot--one of
those hateful things, a King.  Bah!"  The Captain and his second in
command, having thus vented their rage and spite, ordered the men to
carry off their prisoners.  The Captain and the young officers were
therefore again unceremoniously dragged out of the cabin and forced down
below into a space in the hold, dimly lighted by a single lantern.
There they found the greater part of the crew already assembled,
bursting with rage and indignation at the way they had been treated.

Meantime the boat which contained Paul Pringle, with Tom Marline, True
Blue, and the other two boys, arrived alongside the frigate.  The French
sailors were going to hoist up Paul with very little consideration for
his hurts, when, in spite of their black looks, Tom shoved in his
shoulder, vehemently exclaiming:

"Avast, ye lubbers!  Can't you see that the man has his ribs stove in?
Send down proper slings to lift him on deck, or out of this boat he
don't go while I've an arm to strike for him."

True Blue had continued to support Paul's head in his lap.  The
Frenchmen did not understand this demand, and might have proceeded to
force Tom up the side had not Pringle himself interfered.

"Don't fall out with the men, Tom; there's no use grumbling with them.
Do you and Billy help me up.  I've still some strength left in me."

Aided thus, Paul reached the Frenchman's deck, the first he had ever
trod except as a victor.  No sooner were they there than Tom was seized
on, as had been the other seamen, and was dragged off to be abused and
kicked down into the hold with the rest.  No sooner, however, did some
of the Frenchmen attempt to lay hands on Paul, who had been placed
sitting up against a gun, than True Blue threw himself before him, and,
with a blow on the chest of the man who was about to drag him along,
sent him reeling across the deck.  Tim Fid and Harry, who had been left
at liberty, on this flew to his support, and, standing on either side,
literally kept the rest at bay.

True Blue said not a word, but his lips quivered, and, had he held a
sharp cutlass in his hand, he would evidently have proved no
contemptible opponent.

At first the Frenchmen were amused, and so were a number of the French
boys belonging to the ship, who quickly assembled at the spot,
especially devoting their attention to jeering and quizzing Fid and
Harry.

Their good humour, however, was rapidly vanishing, and they would have
probably proceeded to disagreeable extremities had not the surgeon of
the ship appeared on the deck.  He was a gentleman and a royalist, and
had been most unwillingly compelled to come to sea as the alternative of
losing his head.  His profession gave him some influence among the crew,
which he exerted on the side of humanity.  Seeing at a glance Paul's
condition, he appealed to his countrymen, remarking that the Englishman
must evidently be a good-natured person, or the boys would not be so
ready to fight for him.

"Brave little fellows!  They deserve to be well treated," he remarked.
"And now do some of you help me to carry the old man below.  He is not
in a state to be left on deck.  Any one of us, remember, may speedily be
in a worse condition."

This appeal had the desired effect, and, the kind surgeon leading the
way, Paul was lifted up and carried below to a side cabin on the
orlop-deck.  True Blue was allowed to remain with him.

The mode of proceeding on board the frigate seemed to True Blue like
that of the very slackest of privateers; indeed, when he described what
he saw to his godfather, Paul told him that even pirates could not carry
on in a worse way.

Before long several of the crew looked in and attempted to speak
English, but very seldom got beyond a few of the ordinary oaths so
general in the mouths of seamen.  At length a man appeared who had been
in England as a prisoner during the last war, and could really speak
enough English to explain himself.  He asked them a number of questions,
which either Paul or True Blue answered truly.

"And so," he said, "I hear from my compatriot that you belonged to the
_Ruby_ frigate.  Ah! she was a fine ship, and her crew were brave
fellows--they fought well.  You have heard of her fate, perhaps?"

"No," answered Paul and True Blue in a breath.  "What has happened to
her?"

"The fortune of war, my friends," answered the Frenchman.  "She fell in
with our consort, _La Nymphe_ of forty guns, and engaged her bravely for
three hours.  For which side victory would have declared is doubtful,
when we appeared in sight.  Just then, awful to relate, whether by
design or not I cannot say, she blew up with a loud explosion, wounding
and killing many on board _La Nymphe_.  Not one man escaped of all her
crew."

"Oh, mate, do you speak the truth?" exclaimed Paul, starting up and
seizing the Frenchman by the hand.

"Why should I deceive you, my friend?" answered the republican, putting
his other hand on his bosom.  "I know how to pity a brave enemy, believe
me."

Paul lay back on his bed and placed both his hands before his eyes,
while a gasping sob showed how much True Blue felt the sad news.



CHAPTER FIFTEEN.

The account of the destruction of the _Ruby_ soon spread among the
English prisoners.  At first the two midshipmen especially would not
credit it; but the date of the alleged occurrence answered exactly with
that of the day when Johnny Nott parted with her and saw her standing
towards an enemy's ship, and heard the firing at the commencement of the
action.

"They do not even boast that they took her, or that she had hauled down
her flag before she blew up," he observed.  "If they had done so, we
might have doubted them.  I'm afraid their account is too true."

"I am afraid so, indeed," responded Elmore mournfully; "so many fine
fellows lost.  Our brave skipper Garland, he is a public loss.  They do
not say that a single officer was saved."

Thus the midshipmen talked on.  They almost forgot their own misfortunes
and abominable ill-treatment while thinking of their friends.  Some
coarse bread and cheese was handed to them in a dirty basket, and water
was the only liquid given them to drink; while at night no bedding nor
the slightest accommodation was afforded them.  In vain the officers
pleaded.  The men to whom they spoke only laughed and jeered at them,
and poor young Elmore only came in for a greater share of abuse when by
some means it was discovered that he was what they called an English
aristocrat.

"Ah, milord!" exclaimed one fellow with a horrid grin; "if we had you in
_la belle France_, your head would not remain long on your shoulders.
We guillotine all such.  It's the best way to treat them.  They have
trampled too long on our rights, to be forgiven."

The next morning the British seamen and officers were ordered up on
deck, and, being placed near the gangway, were surrounded by a guard of
marines with fixed bayonets.  If they attempted to move from the spot,
they soon had notice to go back again.

The prize had parted company, and they supposed had been sent into port;
but the frigate herself stood away to the westward to continue her
cruise.  In spite of the general want of discipline, a very bright
lookout was kept for any strange sail in sight.  In the afternoon watch
a vessel was seen to the southward, and the frigate bore up in chase.
The stranger, on seeing this, made all sail to escape.

The French seamen pointed her out to the British.  "Ah! ah! we shall
soon have her!" they exclaimed.  "See, the cowards dare not wait our
coming up."

Meantime, Paul Pringle lay in his berth, pretty well cared for, and most
devotedly watched by True Blue.  Billy was advised by the kind doctor to
show himself as little as possible, lest he should be ordered to join
the rest of the prisoners.  He occasionally, however, stole out, that he
might ascertain for Paul in what direction the ship was steering, and
what was taking place.  It was towards the evening that he came quickly
back and reported that he had seen all the prisoners hurried below on a
sudden, and that the wind being from the westward, all sail had been
made on the frigate, and that she had been put dead before it, having
abandoned the chase of the vessel of which she had been in pursuit.

"What it means I don't quite know," observed True Blue; "but there's
something in the wind, of that I'm pretty certain."

The tramping of feet overhead, the hurried passing of the crew up and
down, showed Paul also that such was the case.  True Blue was standing
at the door of the berth when the surgeon came below, and, as he passed
him, whispered, "Keep quiet with your friend, boy.  The crew may not be
in the humour to bear the sight of you."  He did as he was advised for
some time; but, peeping out, he saw the powder-boys carrying up powder
and shot, and other missiles from the magazine, while the flurry and
bustle increased, and he felt sure that the frigate was going into
action.

"Paul, I must go and learn what it is all about," he said.  "I suppose
that we are coming up with the chase."

Paul, not supposing there would be any risk, did not prevent his going.
He crept out quietly.  Everybody was so busy that no one remarked him.
He looked out at one of the bow-ports; but nothing was to be seen ahead.
He glanced on the other side; not a sail was in sight.

He came back to the berth.  "Paul!" he exclaimed joyfully, "it is not
that the frigate is chasing, but she is being chased.  She seems to be
under all sail, and in a desperate hurry to get away."

"We've a chance, then, of not having to see the inside of a French
port," observed Paul Pringle.  "That's a thing to be thankful for; but,
Billy, it's sad news we shall have to take home about Abel, and Peter,
and the rest.  I must go and break it to Mrs Ogle and Mrs Bush, and
their children.  It will make my heart bleed--that it will, I know."

Paul and True Blue talked on for some time, as very naturally they often
did, about their old ship and shipmates, till their well-practised ears
caught the sound of a distant gun.

"That's right aft!" exclaimed Paul.  "It comes, I doubt, from the
leading ship of the pursuing squadron.  I pray that the frigate may not
escape them."

"I must go on deck and see how many ships there are," said True Blue.
"The Frenchmen can but kick me down again, and I can easily jump out of
their way."

He had not gone long when down he came again, panting as if for want of
breath.  "Oh, Paul!" he exclaimed, "I thought to have seen two or three
frigates or a line-of-battle ship at least; but, would you believe it,
there is but one frigate, more like the _Ruby_ than any ship I ever saw;
and if I didn't know for certain that her keel was at the bottom of the
Atlantic, I could have sworn that it was she herself.  It quite took
away my breath to look at her, and then when the Frenchmen saw me
looking at the stranger, they hove their gun-sponges and rammers at me,
so I had to run for it to get out of their way."

"Billy, I wish that I could have a look at this stranger the Frenchmen
are so afraid of," said Paul.  "If she is a frigate I have seen before,
I should know her again."

"I don't mind the Frenchmen.  I will go and have another look at her,"
answered True Blue.  "We shall soon be within speaking distance of her
guns."

As he spoke, he kept moving about the berth like a hyena in its cage;
and soon, unable any longer to restrain his impatience, out he darted
and unimpeded reached the deck.  The pursuing frigate ran up the British
colours, and opened her fire with a couple of bow-chasers.  She had good
reason to do so, for the Frenchman was steering to the southward and
land was ahead.  One of the shot struck the counter of _La Ralieuse_,
the other passed a little on one side.  True Blue gazed earnestly and
long at the English frigate.  He was recalled in a disagreeable way to a
sense of where he was by feeling the point of a cutlass pressed against
his back, and, looking round, he saw a seaman with no pleasant looks
grinning at him and pointing below.

What the man said he could not make out.  He got out of the fellow's way
and hurried below.  "Paul, I am right!" he exclaimed.  "She is either
the _Ruby_ or another frigate so like her that you couldn't tell one
from the other."

The next ten minutes were passed in a state of great anxiety, and when
True Blue again looked out, he reported that the Frenchmen were
shortening sail preparatory to commencing action.  The crew were all at
their stations.  An unusual silence reigned on board.  The Captain was
making a speech.  It was about liberty, equality, and fraternity, and
the _bonnet rouge_ was displayed.

The cheers were cut very short by a broadside from the English frigate,
the shot of which crashed through the Frenchman's sides, tore up the
planks, and carried off the heads of two or more of the cheerers.

"That was a right hearty English broadside!" exclaimed Paul.  "I could
almost fancy I knew the sound of the shot.  I wish that you and I were
with them, Billy, instead of being cooped up here."

The English had not the game all to themselves.  The French almost
immediately replied with considerable spirit to the compliment they had
received.

"They are having a running fight of it--yardarm to yardarm, as far as I
can make out," said Paul.  "Well, that's the right way to go about the
business.  A brave fellow commands the English frigate, whatever she
is."

"She's no bigger than the Frenchman," said True Blue.

"Maybe not, Billy," observed Paul, lifting himself up on his elbow.  "It
isn't the size of the ship--it's the men on board her makes the
difference.  Depend on't, those in the ship alongside us are of the
right sort and properly commanded."

Presently there was a louder noise on deck than usual, and evident
confusion.  True Blue could contain his curiosity no longer, and before
Paul could stop him, he had darted out of the berth.

"Heaven will guard him," said Paul to himself; "but he runs as great a
risk as any of these Frenchmen."

True Blue was soon back.  "The English frigate has shot away the
Frenchman's fore-topmast and foreyard, and she's up in the wind, and the
Englishman is ranging ahead to rake her!" he exclaimed enthusiastically.
"We shall have it in another half minute.  And do you know, Paul, the
more I look at the stranger, the more I fancy she is like our brave
little _Ruby_.  Here it comes."

True enough, the shot did come, thick and fast--not one seemed to have
missed--right into the bows of _La Ralieuse_.  Some seemed to be
sweeping her main, others her upper deck, or flying among her masts and
spars, while more than one struck between wind and water.  At the same
moment shrieks, and cries, and groans, arose from all parts of the ship,
mingled with shouts and oaths, levelled at the heads of their enemies.

"Keep quiet, Billy," said Paul.  "The French, if they saw you, might do
you an injury, boy.  We shall soon have the flag of England flying over
our heads."

As True Blue peeped out as before from the berth, he saw numerous
wounded men brought into the cockpit, where the surgeons were already
busy at work with their instruments and bandages.  More and more were
brought down.  Further supplies of shot were being carried up, and the
rapid passing of the powder-boys to and from the magazine showed that
there was no expectation of bringing the contest to a speedy
termination.

Nearly all this time the Frenchman's guns kept up an incessant roar.
They ceased only now and then, when, as Paul conjectured, the English
frigate was passing either ahead or astern of them, so that they could
not reach her.

Now _La Ralieuse_ had to stand the effects of another raking broadside.
This time it was astern, and came in at the after-ports, tearing away
the head of the rudder, and sweeping both decks from one end to the
other.  Thirty men or more were killed or wounded as they stood at their
guns by this one broadside.  True Blue ran up on deck to take a look
round and saw them stretched on the decks in ghastly rows, pale and
still, or writhing in their agony.  The mizen-topmast was also gone, and
the rigging of the mainmast seemed terribly cut up.

He rapidly again dived below to report what he had seen.

"That's enough, boy!" exclaimed Paul in a voice of triumph.  "She cannot
get away from the English ship, and sooner or later our brave fellows
will have her.  Ah, there they are at it again.  Hurrah for Old
England!"

"Old England for ever!" shouted True Blue.  He might have sung out at
the top of his voice, for amid the terrific din of battle the Frenchmen
could not have heard him.

Presently there was a loud crashing sound, a severe shock, and the
frigate heeled over with the blow, which made her quiver in every
timber.

"Oh, boy!" cried Paul, seizing True Blue's hand in his eagerness, "they
are going to board, and here I lie with my ribs stove in.  If I could
but handle my cutlass, we could be on deck and join them; but no--stay
below by me, Billy.  They'll make short work of it.  Hark! those are
true British cheers.  They have the Frenchman fast.  There they come!
They are swarming over the side and through the ports!  There's the
sound of the cutlasses!  Cold steel will do it!  Those are the
Frenchmen's pistols; our fellows know what's the best thing to use.
They've gained a footing on the deck--they'll not lose it, depend on
that.  There! they shout again!  The sounds are just above our heads.
Hurrah for Old England!  The Frenchmen are crying out, too.  It is--it
is for quarter!  They'll get that, though they don't deserve it.  On
come our brave fellows!  There's the tramp of their feet--the clash of
the cutlasses!  Nearer they come!  They're overhead!  They've gained the
main deck!  Hark!  Shut to the door and hold it tight, boy.  Down come
the Frenchmen, helter-skelter!  They're flying for their lives!  They're
coming down by dozens, twenties, fifties!  They've given way fore and
aft!  All hands are shouting for quarter!  Hurrah, boy!  Hurrah, True
Blue!  That cheer, I know it.  The Frenchman's flag is down!  Once more
we've the glorious British ensign above our heads!  Here come our
fellows, open the door and hail them!"

True Blue did as he was bid; and at that instant who should appear,
cutlass and pistol in hand, but Abel Bush, Peter Ogle, and a dozen or
more, whose well-known faces proclaimed them part of the crew of the
_Ruby_.  Great was their surprise at finding Paul and True Blue there,
and loud and hearty were the greetings which hurriedly passed between
them.

"And so you all escaped when the frigate blew up in action with the
Frenchman the day we left you?" said Paul after he had explained in a
few words how he and his companions had been captured by the Frenchmen.

"Blew up!" exclaimed Abel.  "We never blew up; though we had a jolly
good blow-out that evening, after we had taken a thundering big French
frigate, which we must have begun to engage before you lost sight of our
mastheads.  We should have taken her consort, too, before the sun went
down, if, like a cur, she hadn't turned tail and run for it; when, as it
took us some little time to repair damages, we could not follow."

"Hurrah!" exclaimed Paul.  "Hurrah!  I thought so.  This is the very
craft herself, depend on it; and that is the reason the hounds have been
worrying our poor fellows, as if they had been mere brutes.  You'll hear
all about it by and by.  But I say, Abel, do you go and look after the
surgeon of this ship.  He's a kind-hearted gentleman.  Take care no one
hurts him.  Billy will try and find him."

Paul Pringle never forgot those who had been kind to him.  True Blue was
also very glad to show his gratitude to the French doctor, whom they
soon found in his cabin, where he had retired during the first rush of
the British on board.

Summoning his assistants, the surgeon returned to the cockpit, where he
was quickly occupied in endeavouring to mitigate the sufferings of his
wounded countrymen, who now, mangled and bleeding, were being collected
from all parts of the captured ship.

When True Blue got back to Paul, he found Tom Marline and Harry and Fid
with him.  The prisoners had been released; but by the particular advice
of the officers, they had not yet mentioned the insults they had
received, lest, already heated with the excitement of battle, the
accounts should exasperate the crew of the _Ruby_ and make them
retaliate on the Frenchmen.

Paul, at his earnest request, was now removed back to his own ship while
she lay alongside the prize.  He and True Blue were warmly received by
their shipmates, as were Tom and Fid and Harry.  So also were the two
midshipmen.  The Captain, especially, was delighted at getting back
young Elmore, who was an only son, and placed by his mother especially
under his care.

"Yes, sir; here I am!" said the middy after the Captain had greeted him.
"And, sir, I owe my life to the bravery of Freeborn, who leaped
overboard to save me, in a raging sea, when no other means could have
been employed."

"A noble, gallant young fellow.  I will not overlook him, depend on
that, Elmore.  You and I must settle what we can best do for his
interests," said the Captain warmly.  But just then there was so much to
be done that he could say no more on the subject.

The _Ruby_ had suffered considerably both in hull and rigging, and in
killed and wounded.  The Frenchmen had, however, lost between seventy
and eighty men in all.  The second Captain was killed, and the first
desperately wounded.  The frigates had got so close in with the French
coast that they were obliged to anchor to repair damages, so as to be in
a condition to make sail and stand off again.  It was a very anxious
time for the English, for they were close enough in to be very much
annoyed, should guns be brought down to the coast to bear upon them, or
should any French ships be warned of their vicinity, and be able to get
up and attack them before they were prepared for another engagement.

These considerations made everybody on board work with a will, and all
night long the wearied crew of the _Ruby_ were putting their own ship
into fighting order, and getting up jury-masts so as to make sail on the
prize.  A careful lookout was kept, however, so that they might be
prepared to meet danger from whatever quarter it might come.

The passengers taken in the packet were among the first removed from the
French frigate, and were accommodated as well as circumstances would
allow on board the _Ruby_.

The morning after the battle, the wind came off the shore, and a large
concourse of people assembled on the coast had the mortification to see
the _Ruby_ and her prize make sail and stand away to the northward.

A few hours afterwards, a fleet of gunboats and two frigates came to
look for them; but they were beyond reach of the former, and though the
frigates followed, they were driven back by the sight of an English
squadron, and both the _Ruby_ and _La Ralieuse_ reached Portsmouth in
safety.



CHAPTER SIXTEEN.

True Blue's agitation was considerable, when, the day after the ship's
arrival in Portsmouth Harbour, he heard his name called along the deck,
and found that he was sent for into the Captain's cabin.  "I wonder what
I can be wanted for," he said to Abel Bush as he was giving his jacket a
shake, and seeing that his shoes and handkerchief were tied with
nautical propriety.

"About the matter of the jumping overboard," said Abel.  "They think a
good deal of it, you know!"

"That's more than I do," answered True Blue.  "I wish they hadn't found
out it was me.  Still I must go.  Good-bye, Abel.  I hope they won't
want to be paying me.  I'll not touch a shilling--of that I'm
determined!"

"Stick to that, boy--don't," said Abel.  "You did your duty, and that's
all you'd wish to do."

True Blue hurried along the deck till he reached the Captain's cabin,
then hat in hand he entered, and, pulling a lock of his hair, stood
humbly at the foot of the table.  He saw that the Captain and Mr Brine,
and the two midshipmen, Sir Henry Elmore and Mr Nott, were there, and
two or three strange gentlemen from the shore.

"Sit down, Freeborn," said the Captain, pointing to a chair, which, very
much to his surprise, Mr Nott got up and placed near him.  "It is now a
good many years since we were first shipmates, and during all that time
I have only seen and heard good of you, and now I wish to thank you most
heartily for the gallant way in which you saved Sir Henry Elmore's life.
He and all his family wish also to show what they feel in the way most
likely to be acceptable to you."

"Indeed they do.  You performed a very gallant, noble action, young man,
one to be proud of!" observed one of the gentlemen from the shore, who
was an uncle of Sir Henry.  "On what have you especially set your heart?
What would you like to do?  I suppose that you would not wish to leave
the navy?"

"No, that I would not, sir," answered True Blue warmly.  "But I know,
sir, what I would like to do."

"What is it, my man?  Speak out frankly at once!" said the gentleman.
"I have no doubt that we shall be able to do as you wish."

"Then, sir, it's this," said True Blue, brightening up.  "They've
carried Paul Pringle to the hospital.  Captain Garland knows the man,
sir--my godfather.  He'll be alone there, nobody particular to look
after him; and what I should like, sir, would be to be allowed to go and
stay with him till he is well and about again, or till the ship sails,
when I don't think godfather would wish me to stay on shore even to be
with him."

The gentlemen looked at each other, and then at the Captain and Mr
Brine, who did not seem surprised, though Johnny Nott appeared a little
inclined to laugh.

"A seaman thinks less of jumping overboard to save the life of a
fellow-creature than you would of picking a drunken man up out of the
road," said the Captain, addressing the gentleman.  "You must propose
something to him.  He will not suggest anything himself."

"I think, Freeborn, I may easily promise that you will be allowed to
remain with your old friend as long as he wishes it," said the Captain,
turning to True Blue.  "But I am sure Sir Henry's family will not be
satisfied without showing some mark of their esteem and gratitude.  What
should you say now if the way was open to you of becoming an officer--
first lieutenant of a ship like this, or perhaps her Captain?  There is
nothing to prevent it.  I am very sure that you would be welcomed by all
those among whom you were placed."

"There would be no difficulty as to expense," said the gentleman from
the shore.

True Blue looked up at first as if the Captain was joking with him; then
he became very grave, and in a voice almost choking with agitation he
answered, "Oh, don't ask me, sir; don't ask me.  I don't want to be
anything but a seaman, such as my father was before me.  I couldn't go
and leave Paul, and Abel, and Peter, and the rest--men who have bred me
up, and taught me all a sailor's duties in a way very few get taught.  I
couldn't, indeed, I wouldn't, leave them even to be an officer on the
quarterdeck."

True Blue was silent, and no one spoke for some time, till the Captain
turned aside to the gentleman and said, "I told you that I thought it
likely such would be his answer.  You must find some means of overcoming
his scruples.  Perhaps Elmore and Nott will manage him by themselves
better than we shall."

The two midshipmen took the hint and invited True Blue to accompany them
out of the cabin.  They wisely did not take him on the quarterdeck, but
got him between two of the after-guns, where they could converse without
interruption.  The result of the deliberation was that True Blue
promised to consult his friends on the subject; and Elmore wound up by
saying, "At all events, you must come up with me to see my mother and
sisters in London.  They will not be content without thanking you, and
they cannot come down here to do so."

"With you, Sir Henry!" said True Blue, thinking that the midshipman
really now was joking.  "They wouldn't know what to do with such as me.
I should like to go and see great London town--that I should; but--
but--"

"No `buts,' and so you shall, Freeborn; and that's all settled."

True Blue got leave of absence that afternoon, and Abel Bush accompanied
him to the hospital, where he left him with Paul.  He had never been
more happy in his life, for the hospital servants were very glad to have
their labours lightened, and left him to attend all day long on his
godfather, and on several other wounded shipmates in the same ward.  He
told Paul all that had been said to him, and all the offers made him;
but his godfather declined giving any advice till a formal consultation
had been held by all his sponsors and their mates.  Still True Blue
thought that he seemed inclined to recommend him to do what he himself
wished.

Paul was rapidly getting better, and in less than ten days who should
appear at the hospital but Sir Henry Elmore himself.  He went round the
wards and spoke separately to each of the wounded men belonging to the
_Ruby_, and then he came to Paul Pringle and had a long talk with him.
Paul thought that in a few days he should be sufficiently recovered to
leave the hospital and get as far as his own home, at the pretty village
of Emsworth, and he had proposed that True Blue should accompany him.
Abel Bush and Peter Ogle both lived there, and had families, among whom
their godson would pass his time pleasantly enough.

"I daresay he might," said the young baronet, to whom Paul had mentioned
this; "but I have the first claim on him.  I have come now expressly to
carry him off, so let him pack up his traps and accompany me."

Paul offered no further opposition to this proposal; so True Blue,
having tied up a clean shirt and a thin pair of shoes, with a few other
things in a handkerchief, announced that he had his clothes ready and
was prepared to accompany the baronet.

The midshipman looked at the bundle, but said nothing.  He knew well
enough that a ship's boy was not likely to have any large amount of
clothing.  He had a coach at the door, and he ordered the coachman to
drive to the George Hotel at Portsmouth.  On the way he asked his
companion whether he would not prefer dressing in plain clothes, and
that, if so, a suit forthwith should be at his service; but True Blue so
earnestly entreated that he might be allowed to wear the dress to which
he had always been accustomed, that his friend gave up the point.

They found a capital dinner prepared for them at the George, in a
private room; and the gentleman whom True Blue had seen on board the
_Ruby_ was there to receive them, and talked so kindly and pleasantly
that he soon found himself very much at his ease, and was able and
willing to do ample justice to the good things placed before him.

As Mr Leslie, Sir Henry's uncle, was obliged to return to London that
night, they set off by the mail.  Mr Leslie went inside; but the
midshipman and True Blue, who disdained such a mode of proceeding, took
their places behind the coachman, the box seat being already occupied by
a naval officer.  Mail coaches in those days were not the rapidly-moving
vehicles they afterwards became.  Passengers sat not only in front, but
behind, where the guard also had his post--a most important personage,
resplendent in red livery, and armed to the teeth with pistols, a heavy
blunderbuss, and often a hanger or cutlass; so that he had the means, if
he possessed a bold heart, of defending the property confided to him.

True Blue had never before been on the top of a coach, and his remarks
as they drove along, till the long summer day came to a close, amused
the young baronet very much.

When they reached London, Mr Leslie called a hackney coach, and True
Blue found himself rumbling along through the streets of London, towards
Portman Square, at an early hour on a bright summer morning.

"Where are all the people, sir?" he asked, looking out of the window.
"I thought London was full of people."

"So it is.  They are all asleep now, like ants in their nest.  When the
sun is up by and by, they will be busy enough, you will see," answered
Mr Leslie.

It was still very early when they arrived at Lady Elmore's house; and,
as they were not expected, no one was up to receive them.  They,
however, got in quietly; and while his arrival was being made known to
his mother, Sir Henry took True Blue to a room and advised him to turn
in and get some sleep.  He would, however, very much rather have been
allowed to go out and see the wonders of the great city; but his friend
assuring him that, if he did, he would inevitably lose himself, he
reluctantly went to bed.

The moment, however, that his head was on the pillow, he was fast
asleep, and, in spite of the bright sun which gleamed in at the window,
it was not till nearly the family breakfast-time that he awoke.

He was awakened by a bland voice saying, "It is time to get up, sir.
Shall I help you to dress?"

True Blue opened his eyes and saw before him a personage in a very fine
coat, with powdered hair, who he thought must be some great lord or
other, even though he held a can of hot water in his hand.

The young sailor sat up, and, seeing no one else in the room, said,
pulling a front lock of his hair, "Did you speak to me, sir?"

"Sir Henry sent me to ascertain if you wanted anything," answered the
footman, somewhat puzzled, as he had not been told who the occupant of
the room was.

When, however, he came to examine the clothes by the bedside, he guessed
that he was some naval follower of his young master.  He was about to
carry off the clothes to brush them.

True Blue saw the proceeding with dismay.  "Don't take them away,
please.  I have no others!" he exclaimed.  "But, I say, I'm very hungry,
and shouldn't mind some bread and cheese if there's any served out yet."

"I can get it for you at once; but breakfast will be ready directly, and
you will find better things to eat then," said the footman, smiling.

"Oh, I'll be dressed in a jiffy, then," answered True Blue, jumping out
of bed and forthwith commencing his ablutions in sea fashion, and almost
before the footman had left the room he was ready to go downstairs.

Sir Henry came for him.

"Come along, Freeborn.  My mother and sisters are anxious to see you.
They are in the breakfast-room.  I am sure that you will like them."

True Blue, looking every inch the sailor, with his rich light curling
hair, sunburnt countenance, laughing blue eye, and white strong teeth,
followed the midshipman.  He felt rather strange when the door opened
and a handsome, tall lady came forward, and, taking him by both his
hands, said:

"You saved my dear boy's life at the risk of your own.  I owe you all
the gratitude a mother can offer."

She shook his hands warmly.  He made no answer, for he did not know
exactly what to say, except, "Oh, marm, it's nothing!"

Two tall girls then followed her example, and he thought that they were
going to kiss him; but they did not, which he was glad of, as it would
have made him feel very bashful.

Mr Leslie came down, and the party were soon seated round the
breakfast-table.  True Blue was very hungry, but at first everything
seemed so strange about him that he could not eat.  However, the ladies
spoke in such kind, sweet voices, while they in no way seemed to notice
what he was about, that he quickly gained courage and made the beef, and
ham, and eggs, and bread and butter, rapidly disappear.

After the meal was over, some time was spent by Sir Henry with his
mother and sisters, while Mr Leslie remained with True Blue, talking
with him in a friendly way; and then he gave him a number of books with
prints to look over, which interested him very much.

At last his host came back.  "Come along, Freeborn," he said.  "The
coach is at the door, and we have numberless sights to see, which, truth
to say, I have never seen myself; so my mother will go with us to show
them.  Is there anything you have heard of you would particularly like
to see?"

True Blue thought a little.  "Yes, indeed there is, Sir Henry," he
answered.  "There is one thing I'd rather see than anything else.  It is
what I have always longed to have a sight of, and that is His Majesty
the King we fight for.  Paul Pringle says he would go a hundred miles
any day to see him; and so would I--two hundred for that matter.  Every
true sailor is ready enough to shed his blood for him, marm; but we
should all of us like to see him just once, at all events."

"I daresay that we shall be able to manage that without difficulty,"
said Lady Elmore.  "His Majesty will probably soon come up to deliver a
speech in Parliament, and we shall then have a good opportunity of
seeing him."

This promise highly delighted True Blue; and he evidently looked forward
to seeing the King with more satisfaction than to any sight he expected
to witness during his visit to London.

True Blue was taken one evening to the play, but, unfortunately, what
was called a naval drama was acted.  Here both he and the midshipman
were well qualified to criticise.  He certainly was the more severe.

"Does that fellow call himself a sailor, marm?" he asked, turning to
Lady Elmore.  "Don't believe it.  He isn't a bit more like a sailor than
that thing they are hauling across the deck is like a ship--that is to
say, any ship I ever saw.  If she came to be launched, she'd do nothing
but go round boxing the compass till she went to the bottom.  Would she,
Sir Henry?"

The midshipman was highly diverted.  "The manager little thought that he
had us to criticise his arrangements," he answered, laughing.  "The play
is only got up for the amusement of landsmen, and to show them how we
sailors fight for them."

"But wouldn't they like us to go and do that just now ourselves, Sir
Henry?" exclaimed True Blue with eagerness.  "If they'd give us a
cutlass apiece, and would get those Frenchmen we saw just now to stand
up like men, we would show them how we boarded and took the French
frigate in our first cruise."

Lady Elmore said she thought some confusion might be created if the
proposal was carried out, and persuaded True Blue to give up the idea.
When, however, one of the stage sailors came on and volunteered to dance
a hornpipe, his indignation knew no bounds.  "He's not a true
bluejacket--that I'll warrant!" he exclaimed.  "If he was, he wouldn't
be handling his feet in the way he is doing.  I should so like to step
down and just show you, my lady, and the rest of the good people here,
how we dance aboard.  If I had but Sam Smatch and his fiddle, I'll
warrant people would say which was the right and which was the wrong way
pretty quickly."

Lady Elmore explained to him, much to his surprise, that none but the
actors who were paid for it were allowed to appear on the stage, but
assured him that she would be very glad if some evening he would give
them, at her house, an exhibition of his skill in dancing the hornpipe.

"That I will, my lady, with all my heart!" he exclaimed frankly.
"There's nothing I wouldn't do to please you and the young ladies; and I
think that you would like to see a right real sailor's hornpipe danced.
It does my heart good to dance it, I know.  It is rare fun."

On driving home, Lady Elmore asked him how he liked the play altogether.

"Well, my lady," he exclaimed, "much obliged to you for taking me to the
place!  It was very good sport, but I should have liked it better if I
could have lent a hand in the work.  When there is a scrimmage, it is
natural-like to wish to be in it.  And I couldn't bear to see that black
pirate fellow carry off the young gal, and all the gold and silver
plates and candlesticks, and not be able just to go and rout out his
nest of villains."

This visit to the play enabled his friends to understand True Blue's
style of thought and manners far better than they had before done, and
was in reality of considerable benefit to him.  Gentle of heart and
right-minded, and brave as a lion, he was still a rough sailor; and only
a considerable time spent in the society of polished people could have
given him the polish which is looked-for in a gentleman.

The next day the King was to prorogue Parliament.  Mr Leslie called in
the morning and took his nephew and young guest down towards Westminster
to wait for his approach.  True Blue was full of excitement at the
thought of seeing the King.  "I wonder what he can be like?  He must be
a very grand person to have so many big ships all of his own," he
observed to Mr Leslie.

"You would find His Majesty a very affable, kind old gentleman if he
were to speak to you at any time," said Mr Leslie.  "Here he comes,
though.  You will see him inside the coach.  Take off your hat when he
passes."

At a slow and stately pace the carriage of the kind-hearted monarch of
Great Britain approached.  First came the body of Life Guards, their
belts well whitened with pipeclay, and their heads plastered with
pomatum and powder; and then followed the royal carriage, as fine as
gold and paint and varnish could make it.

"There's King George, Freeborn," said Mr Leslie, pointing out his
Majesty, who sat looking very gracious as he bowed now out of one
window, now out of the other.

"God bless him, then!" shouted True Blue, almost beside himself with
excitement, throwing up his hat and catching it again.  "Three cheers
for King George, boys!  Three cheers for the King!  Hurrah! hurrah!
hurrah, boys!  Hip, hip, hip, hurrah!"  True Blue's eye had fallen on
several other bluejackets, who happened to be near him in the crowd,
come up to London on a spree to get rid of their prize-money.  Instantly
the shout was taken up by them and echoed by the rest of the crowd, till
the air was rent with cries of "Long live the King!"  "Long live King
George!"

"Hurrah! hurrah! hurrah for King George!"  "Hurrah for Old England!"
"Old England in arms against the world--Old England for ever!"

Mr Leslie was highly delighted, and he and his nephew joined in the
shout as loudly as any one, while the King, looking from the windows,
bowed and smiled even more cordially than before.

"Well, I've had a good sight of His Majesty, and I'll not forget his
kind face as long as I live!" exclaimed True Blue as the party walked
homeward.  "It is a pleasure to know the face of the King one is
fighting for; and, God bless His Majesty, his kind look would make me
more ready than ever to stand up for him!"

All the way home True Blue could talk of nothing but the King, and how
glad he was to have seen him.  In the evening, however, one of the young
ladies began to play a hornpipe, the music of which Sir Henry, not
without difficulty, had procured for her.  True Blue pricked up his
ears, and then, running to the piano, exclaimed, "You play it very well
indeed, Miss Julia--that you do; but I wish that you could just hear Sam
Smatch with his fiddle--he'd take the shine out of you, I think you'd
say.  Howsomdever, my lady, if you and the young ladies and Sir Henry
please, and Miss Julia will just strike up a bit of a tune, I'll shuffle
my feet about and show you what we call a hornpipe at sea.  Sir Henry
knows, though, right well; but, to say truth, I'd rather have the smooth
deck under my feet than this grassy sort of stuff, which wants the right
sort of spring in it."

"Never mind, Freeborn," said Sir Henry, laughing.  "They are not such
severe judges as Ogle and Bush, and Marline and our other shipmates."

"To be sure--to be sure," said True Blue in a compassionate tone.  "Now,
Miss Julia, please marm, strike up and off I go."

True Blue did go off indeed, and with the greatest spirit performed a
hornpipe which deservedly elicited the admiration of all the spectators.
Miss Julia's fingers were tired before his feet, and, having made the
usual bow round to the company, throwing back his hair, he stood ready
to begin again.

The applause which followed having ceased, he laughed, exclaiming, "Oh,
it's nothing, ladies--nothing to what I can do, Sir Henry will tell you;
but, you see, there's a good deal of difference between the forecastle
of a man-of-war, and this here drawing-room in big London City."  The
tone of his voice showed that he gave the preference to the forecastle.

That evening Lady Elmore and her son had a long discussion.

"But are you certain, Henry, that we are doing the best thing for the
brave lad?" she said.

"Oh, he'll polish--he'll polish rapidly!" answered her son.  "He has no
notion of concealment, or that it is necessary for him to assume
shoregoing manners, now that he has got over his bashfulness at finding
himself among strangers.  He says exactly what he thinks and feels.  The
outside husk is rough enough, I own, but, depend on it, the jewel within
will soon take a polish which will shine brightly through the shell and
light up the whole form.  Not a bad notion for a midshipman, mother!"

"Oh, you were always poetical and warm-hearted and good and
enthusiastic, Henry," said Lady Elmore, pressing him to her heart.  "Do
as you think best, and I have no doubt our young sailor will turn out a
shining character."



CHAPTER SEVENTEEN.

It had been arranged that True Blue should visit Paul Pringle and his
other friends at Emsworth before returning to his ship.  The day for his
leaving London was fixed.  He had seen all the sights and been several
times to the play; and though he thought it all very amusing, he was, in
truth, beginning to get somewhat tired of the sort of life.  As to Lady
Elmore and her daughters, he thought them, as he said, next door to
angels, and would have gone through fire and water to serve them.

One morning he awoke just as the footman walked in with a jug of hot
water, and, leaving it on the washhand stand, retired without saying a
word.  Sir Henry had directed that he should be waited on exactly as he
was himself.  True Blue jumped out of bed; but when he came to put on
his clothes, they had disappeared.  In their stead there was a
midshipman's uniform suit, dirk, and hat, and cockade complete, while a
chest stood open, containing shirts, and socks, and shoes, and a
quadrant, and books--indeed, a most perfect outfit.

"There's a mistake," he said to himself.  "They have been and brought
Sir Henry's traps in here, and John has carried off my clothes, and
forgot to bring them back.  I never do like ringing the bell, it seems
so fine-gentleman-like.  Still, if he doesn't come, it will be the only
way to get to him."  While waiting, he was looking about, when his eye
fell on a paper on the dressing-table.  His own name was on it.  It was
a document from the Admiralty, directing Mr Billy True Blue Freeborn,
midshipman of H.M. frigate _Ruby_, to go down and join her in a week's
time.  He rubbed his eyes--he read the paper over and over again; he
shook himself, for he thought that he must be still in bed and asleep,
and then he very nearly burst into tears.

"No, no!" he exclaimed passionately; "it's what I don't want to be.  I
can't be and won't be.  I'll not go and be above Paul, and Abel, and
Peter, and Tom, which I should be if I was on the quarterdeck: I
shouldn't be one of them any longer.  I couldn't mess with them and talk
with them, as I have always done.  I know my place; I like Sir Henry and
many of the other young gentlemen very much, and even Mr Nott, though
he does play curious pranks now and then; but I never wished to be one
of them, and what's more, I won't, and so my mind is made up."

Just then he saw another document on the table.  It was a letter
addressed to him.  He opened it and found that it came from Paul
Pringle.  It began:

  "Dear Godson,--That you must always be to me.  Who should come to see
  me first, as I left the hospital, but our Captain--bless him!  He
  tells me there is talk of putting you on the quarterdeck.  Now, that's
  what I never wished for you, any more than your own father did.  His
  last words were, `Let him be brought up as a true British seaman.'

  "That's what your other godfathers and I have done for you--as you'll
  allow, Billy.  Well, as to the quarterdeck idea, we all met and had a
  talk about it.  The long and the short of what we came to is, that you
  must do as you wish.  A man may, we allow, be on the quarterdeck, and
  yet be a true British sailor all over.  Many of our officers are such,
  no doubt of it, every inch of them; but whether a man is the happier
  or the better for being an officer, without being in the way born to
  it--that's the question.  We wouldn't stand in your way, Billy, only
  we feel that we shouldn't be to each other what we were.  We don't say
  that it ought to make a great difference, but it would.  That's the
  conclusion we've come to.  Bless you heartily, boy, we all say,
  whatever course you steer.--Your loving godfather, Paul Pringle."

True Blue read the epistle over several times.  Though signed by
Pringle, it had partly been written by Abel Bush, and partly by Peter
Ogle.  It contained a postscript, inviting him to come down to Emsworth,
whatever the determination he might come to, as his many friends there
were anxious to see him.

The mention of his old friends roused up thoughts and feelings in which,
for some time past, he had not indulged.  Both Peter Ogle and Abel Bush
were married men, with large families.  With them he felt how perfectly
at home and happy he should be.  One of them, too, Mary Ogle, though
rather younger than himself, had always been his counsellor and friend,
and had also materially assisted in giving him the amount of knowledge
he possessed in reading and writing.  Had it not been for her, he
confessed that he would have remained a sad dunce.

After he had thought over the letter, he exclaimed, "Then again, now, if
I was an officer I should have to go with the other officers wherever
they went; and when the ship came into port, I should be for starting
off for London, and couldn't go and stay comfortably with my old
friends.  No, I'm thankful to Sir Henry--I am, indeed; but I've made up
my mind."

He rang the bell.  When John appeared, he asked for his clothes.

"There they are, sir," said John, pointing to the midshipman's uniform.

"I see; but I want the clothes I wore yesterday, John," said True Blue.

"Master said those were for you, sir," explained John.

"I'm not going to put on those clothes, John," said True Blue quietly.
"They don't suit me, and I don't suit them."

The footman was astonished.

"But they will make you an officer and a gentleman," said he earnestly.

"That's just what I don't want to be, John," answered True Blue.  "They
wouldn't do it, either.  It isn't the clothes makes the man.  You know
that.  Bring me back my own jacket and trousers.  I know Sir Henry won't
be angry with you.  I'll set it all right.  There's a good chap, now--do
as I ask you."

John still hesitated.

"Very well," continued True Blue, "if you don't, I'll just jump into bed
again, and there I'll stay.  The only clothes I'll put on are my own.
They were brand new only last week, and I've not done with them."

John, seeing that the young sailor was in earnest, went and brought back
his clothes.  True Blue was soon dressed, and considerable
disappointment was expressed on the countenances of the ladies as they
entered the breakfast-room, when, instead of the gay-looking midshipman
they expected to see, they found him in his seaman's dress.  He looked
up frankly, and not in the slightest degree abashed.

"My lady," he said, "I know what you and Sir Henry intended for me, and
there isn't a part of my heart that doesn't thank you; but d'ye see, my
lady, I was born a true sailor, and a true sailor I wish to be.  I have
old friends--I can't leave them.  I know what I'm fitted for, and I
shouldn't be happy in a midshipman's berth.  I know, too, that it was
all done in great kindness; but it's a thousand limes more than I
deserve.  I shall always love you, my lady, and the young ladies, and
Sir Henry; and if ever he gets a ship, it will be my pride to be with
him and to be his coxswain.  There's only one favour more I have to
ask--it is that Sir Henry will set to rights the order about my having a
midshipman's rating aboard the _Ruby_.  It's a great favour, I'll allow;
but it's one I don't deserve and don't want.  I've made up my mind about
it, and, my lady, you will let me be as I was--I was very happy, and
shall not be happier as an officer."

"I think very likely not," said Lady Elmore, taking his hand.  "But,
Freeborn, we are all anxious to show our gratitude to you.  Can you
point out how it may best be done?"

"That's it, my lady!" exclaimed True Blue vehemently.  "I have done
nothing to speak of, and I do not wish for anything.  Let me just think
about you all, and how kind you've been to me, and that's all I want.
If I serve with Sir Henry, I'll always be by his side, and I'll do my
best to keep the Frenchmen's cutlasses off his head."

"Thanks, thanks, my boy.  Your love for my son makes me take a double
interest in you," said Lady Elmore warmly; and then she added, "still I
wish that you would allow us somewhat to lighten the load of obligation
we owe you."

As True Blue had not the slightest notion what this meant, he made no
reply.

Everybody in the house was sorry to part with the frank-spoken young
sailor.  Even the butler and footman begged him to accept some token of
remembrance; and Mrs Jellybag, the housekeeper, put him up a box
containing all sorts of good things, which, she told him, he might share
with his friends down at Emsworth.  He reached Emsworth in the evening,
and right hearty was the welcome he received from all the members of the
Ogle and Bush families, though not more kind than that old Mrs Pringle
and Paul bestowed on him.

The whole party assembled to tea and supper at Mrs Pringle's, and he
had not been many minutes in the house before he unpacked his chest and
produced his box of good things for them.  He insisted on serving them
out himself, and he managed to slip the largest piece of cake into
Mary's plate, and somehow to give her a double allowance of jam.

Then there were a couple of pounds of tea,--a rare luxury in those days,
except among the richer classes,--and some bottles of homemade wines or
cordials, which served still more to cheer the hearts of the guests.
The pipes were brought in and fragrant tobacco smoked, and songs were
called for.  Paul and Abel struck up.  True Blue sang some of his best,
and, as he every now and then gave Mary a sly kiss, suiting the action
to the words of his songs, he never felt so happy in his life.

Supper was scarcely over when there was a rap at the door, and a
well-known voice exclaiming, "What cheer, mates, what cheer?"

Billy sprang from his stool, and, lifting the latch, cried out, "Come
in, Sam, come in!  Hurrah! here's Sam Smatch.  We were just wishing for
you to help us to shake down our supper, but little thought to see you."

"Why, d'ye see, I wasn't wanted aboard, and so I got leave and just
worked my way along here, playing at the publics and taking my time
about it," said Sam.

"Not getting drunk, I hope, Sam?" asked Paul.

"Why, as to that, Paul, d'ye see, sometimes more liquor got into my head
than went down into my heels; and so, you see, the heels was
overballasted-like and kicked up a bit, just as the old _Terrible_ used
to do in a heavy sea; but as to being drunk, don't for to go and think
such a thing of me, Paul,--I, who was always fit to look after the
cook's coppers when no one else could have told whether they had beef
and duff or round-shot boiling in them."

The black's countenance and the twinkle of his eyes belied his words,
but he was not the less welcome.  Paul told him to sit down, and he was
soon doing ample justice to the remains of the supper.  Without a word
the table was cleared away.  Mrs Pringle and the older people retired
into the wide chimney recess.  Sam, taking his fiddle, mounted on a
meal-tub, which stood in a corner by the old clock, and then, striking
up one of his merriest tunes, he soon had all the lads and lasses
capering and frisking about before him, True Blue being the most lively
and active of them all.  Never did his heart and heels feel so light as
he bounded up and down the room with Mary by his side, sometimes
grasping her hands, and sometimes whirling round and round, while both
were shrieking and laughing in the exuberance of their spirits.

He felt as if a load had been taken off his mind.  Once more he was
among his old friends and associates, and, without confessing the fact
to himself, he infinitely preferred being with them to enjoying all the
luxury and refinement which Lady Elmore's house in London had afforded.
So the days flew rapidly by till the party of seamen had once more to
rejoin their ship.

She was bound for the Mediterranean.  The first port they entered was
Toulon.  The town and the surrounding fortifications were held by the
Royalists, aided by British, Spanish, Sardinians, and Neapolitan troops,
and strong parties of seamen from the English and Spanish squadron.  The
Republican troops were besieging the place, vowing vengeance against
their countrymen who opposed them.  Lord Hood, the British
Commander-in-Chief, was expecting a reinforcement of Austrian troops to
defend the town.  He sent some ships to convey them, but an answer was
returned that they could not be spared; and the Republican army having
increased rapidly in numbers and gained several posts, a council of war
was held to deliberate as to the advisability of longer holding the
place.  The result was that Toulon must be abandoned.  It was the
death-knell to thousands of the inhabitants.

Several important objects had to be accomplished.  The ships of war must
first be carried out of the harbour, the defenders withdrawn from the
batteries, the Royalist inhabitants got off, and, finally, all the
French ships, magazines, and stores which could not be removed
destroyed.

It was an anxious and awful period.  Between forty and fifty thousand
Republican troops were preparing to storm the works, which, covering a
vast extent of ground, were defended by less than eleven thousand.  Sir
Sydney Smith had volunteered to destroy the magazines and ships.

On the 18th of December, all the troops, having been withdrawn from the
forts, were concentrated in the town.  Happily the weather was fine and
the sea smooth.  The enemy had been so severely handled that they
advanced cautiously.  Among those who volunteered to accompany Sir
Sydney Smith was Mr Alston, one of the lieutenants of the _Ruby_.  Mr
Nott, too, was of his party, as was Abel Bush, and True Blue got leave
to go also.

The Neapolitan troops, by their dastardly desertion of the fort of the
Mississi, at which they were stationed, nearly disconcerted all the
arrangements.  Great numbers of the inhabitants had already gone on
board the ships of war.

Sir Sydney Smith had with him the _Swallow_, a small lateen-rigged
vessel, three English and three Spanish gunboats, and the _Vulcan_
fireship, under charge of Captain Charles Hare, with a brigade of boats
in attendance.

The ships had got out; the boats of the fleet were waiting to carry off
the troops.  Already shot and shell from the surrounding heights were
beginning to fall thickly into the harbour.  The galley slaves in the
arsenal, 800 in number, were threatening to interfere, but were kept in
check by the gunboats; the Republicans were descending the hill in
numbers, and opening fire with musketry and cannon on the British and
Spanish.

Night came on; the fireship, towed by the boats, entered the basin.  Her
well-shotted guns were pointed so as to keep the enemy in check.  The
Spaniards had undertaken to scuttle the _Iris_ frigate, which contained
several thousand barrels of powder, as also another powder vessel, the
_Montreal_ frigate.

Hitherto Sir Sydney Smith and his gallant companions had performed all
their operations in darkness, the only light being the flashes of the
cannon and muskets playing on them.  At length ten o'clock struck--a
single rocket ascended into the air.  In an instant the fireship and all
the trains leading to the different magazines and stores were ignited.
The boats lay alongside the former, ready to take off the crew.  There
was a loud explosion--the priming had burst, and the brave Captain Hare
narrowly escaped with his life.  "To the boats, lads, for your lives!"
he shouted.

Mr Nott and True Blue were assisting him.  Not a moment was to be lost.
Upwards burst the flames with terrific fury, literally scorching them
as they ran along the deck to jump into the boats.  Abel Bush caught
True Blue, or he would have been overboard.

"Bravo, boy!" cried Abel; "you've done it well."

"Yes, we've done it; but where's the Captain?" asked True Blue, about to
spring back to look for him.

Just then the Captain appeared, with his clothes almost burnt off his
back.  The flames of the burning ships, the storehouses and magazines,
now clearly exposed to the view of the exasperated Republicans those who
were engaged in the work of destruction, and showers of shot and shell
soon came rattling down among them.  Still the gallant seamen persevered
in the work they had undertaken, when suddenly the very air seemed to be
rent in two; the masts, rigging, and deck of the _Iris_ rose upwards in
a mass of flame, shattering two gunboats which happened to be close to
her, and scattering her burning fragments far and wide around her among
the boats.  The brave fellows in the latter, heedless of the danger,
dashed on to assist the crews of the gunboats.  Several people in one
had been killed; but the whole crew of the other, though she had been
blown into the air, were picked up alive.

"That is the ship the lazy Spaniards undertook to scuttle!" exclaimed
Mr Alston after they had picked up all the poor fellows they could
find.  "However, bear a hand; we have plenty of work before us.  There
are two seventy-fours.  We must destroy them by some means or other."

When, however, they reached the seventy-fours, they found them full of
French prisoners, who seemed inclined to protect them.

"Very well, gentlemen," shouted Sir Sydney; "it will be a painful
necessity to have to burn you in the ships!"

The hint was taken, and the prisoners thankfully allowed themselves to
be conveyed to the nearest point of land.

The British ran no little risk in this undertaking, for the French far
outnumbered them; but no attempt at rising was made; and now the two
ships, _Heros_ and _Themistocle_, being cleared of their occupants, were
set on fire in every direction, and were soon blazing up brightly.

In every direction similar large bonfires were lighting up the harbour
and shores of Toulon, among which the British boats were incessantly
plying, carrying off the remaining troops and rescuing the terrified
inhabitants.

At length the work of destruction, as far as means would allow, was
well-nigh accomplished, when another fearful explosion, even greater
than the first, took place, close to where the tender and the boats were
at the moment passing.

It was the frigate _Montreal_.  Down came around the boats a complete
avalanche of burning timbers, huge guns, masts, spars, and blocks,
rattling, and crashing, and hissing into the water.  The seamen, already
almost exhausted with their exertions, could scarcely attempt even to
escape the fiery shower.  Many of the poor fellows sank down at their
oars, and those in each boat believed that their comrades had been
destroyed; but when they drew out of the circle of destruction and
mustered once more, not one had been injured.

Although fired on by the Republicans, who had taken possession of Forts
Balaguier and Aiguillette, the boats slowly pulled out to join the fleet
already outside.  A few only, whose crews had strength left, returned to
aid the flying inhabitants.  The last of the troops had been embarked
under the able management of Captain Elphinstone, of the _Robust_, and
other Captains, without the loss of a man, the _Robust_ being the last
ship to leave the harbour when the infuriated Republicans, breathing
vengeance on the helpless inhabitants, rushed into the city.

The terrible intelligence reached them that even in the suburbs neither
age nor sex had been spared.  Husbands seized their wives or daughters,
mothers their children, and, rushing from their houses, fled towards the
water, where their friends had already long ago embarked.  Shot and
shell were remorselessly fired down on them; numbers were cut in pieces
as they fled.  Every step they heard behind they thought came from a
pursuing foe.  Many, unable to reach the boats, preferring instant death
to the bayonets of their countrymen, rushed, with their infants in their
arms, and perished in the waves.

Daylight approached, and with sorrowful reluctance the brave seamen had
to draw off from the scene of destruction to avoid falling into the
hands of the enemy.

The boat in which True Blue pulled the bow oar was one of the last to
quit the harbour, and for many a day afterwards the shrieks of the
hapless Toulonese, murdered by their countrymen, rang in his ears.



CHAPTER EIGHTEEN.

The frigate was soon after this sent home with dispatches; but scarcely
was she clear of the Straits of Gibraltar than the wind fell, a thick
fog came on, and she lay becalmed some twenty leagues off the Spanish
coast.  So dense was the fog, that no object could be seen a quarter of
a mile off.

At length a light breeze sprang up from the westward; but though strong
enough to fill her sails and send her slowly gliding over the
mirror-like surface of the water, it had not the power of blowing away
the mist which hung over it.

True Blue was walking the forecastle with Paul Pringle when his quick
ear caught the sound of a distant bell.  He touched Paul's arm as a sign
not to speak, and stood listening; then almost simultaneously another
and another sounded, and the ship's bell directly after struck, as if
responding to them.  The sounds, it was evident, came down with the
wind.

"Come aft and report them, in case the officer should not have heard
them."

Mr Brine was on deck and listened attentively to what True Blue had to
say.  "How far off were the bells?" he asked.

"Half a mile, sir," was the prompt answer.

"Large or small, should you say?"

"Large, sir," said True Blue.

"English or French?  I take it that there is a difference in the sound."

"And so there is, sir," quickly replied True Blue.  "I marked it when we
were aboard the _Ralieuse_; and now, sir, you ask me, I should say they
were French."

"Very clear, indeed," remarked the first lieutenant.  "Go into the
weather-rigging, Freeborn, and keep your eyes about you and your ears
open, and report anything more you may discover."

Mr Brine then went into the cabin to consult with the Captain.  The
sentry was ordered, when his half-hour glass was run out, to turn it,
but not to sound the bell; and the word was passed along the decks to
keep the ship as quiet as possible.

It was possible that they were in the presence of a greatly superior
force of the enemy.  The frigate's course, however, was not altered.
The breeze was freshening, and any moment the veil might be lifted from
the face of the waters, and the vessels floating on it disclosed to each
other.  Everything on board the frigate was prepared for flight or
battle; and, in spite of the probability of having to contend with a
superior force, the crew showed by their remarks that they would
infinitely prefer the latter to the former alternative.

The only two, probably, on board who wished to avoid a fight were Sam
Smatch and Gregory Gipples, who still remained on board.  Poor Gregory
would gladly have followed some more pacific calling, but his poverty,
and not his will, compelled him to be a sailor.  Besides, he was now a
big, stout, well-fed fellow, and could pull and haul as well as many
seamen; and in those days the pressgang took care that once a sailor, a
man should remain always a sailor.  Big as he was, and inclined to bully
all fresh hands, Tim Fid defied him, and never ceased playing him tricks
and quizzing him.

"Gipples, my boy, they say that there are three big Frenchmen coming
down upon us, and that we are to fight them all!" cried Fid, giving his
messmate a dig in the ribs.  "One down, t'other come on, I hope it will
be; but whether we drub them or not, some of us will be losing the
number of our mess."

"Oh, don't talk so, Fid!" answered Gipples, looking very yellow.
"What's the use of it?  We don't see the enemy."

"No, but we very soon shall," said Fid.  "Just let the mist lift, and
there they'll be as big as life one on each quarter, so that every shot
they fire will rake us pretty nigh fore and aft.  Our Captain's not a
man to give in, as you well know; so we shall soon have our sticks
a-rattling down about our heads, and the round-shot whizzing by us, and
splinters flying about, and arms and legs and heads tumbling off.  How
does yours feel, Gipples?  It's odd a shot has never come foul of it
yet.  Howsomdever, you can't expect that always to be.  But never mind,
old fellow.  I'll tell the old people at home how you died like a true
British sailor; and if you have any message to your old chums, just tell
me what to say."

Thus, with an ingenious talent at tormenting, Tim Fid ran on, till, from
the vivid picture he drew, poor Gipples was fairly frightened out of his
senses.  Tim was just then called off by the boatswain.  When he came
back, Gipples was nowhere to be seen.  The crew had been sent quietly to
their quarters without the usual beat of drum.  Gipples ought to have
been seated on his powder tub, but he was not.  He had been seen to go
forward.  Fid looked anxiously for him.  He did not return.

A considerable time passed.  No Gipples appeared, and Fid felt sure that
he must have slipped purposely overboard.

Still Fid was not as happy as usual.  True Blue asked him what was the
matter.  He told him of his fears about Gipples.  Indeed, the unguarded
powder tub was strong evidence that he was right in his surmises.
Another boy was ordered to take charge of the tub, and nobody but Tim
thought much more about the hapless Gregory.

The wind had gradually been increasing, and at length it gained
sufficient strength to sweep before it the banks of heavy mist, when the
loud sharp cry of the lookouts announced five sail right astern, and
some five or six miles distant.  As they could be seen clearly from the
deck, numerous glasses were instantly pointed at them, when they were
pronounced without doubt to be enemy's ships.

They also saw the frigate, and instantly bore up in chase.  Had they all
been line-of-battle ships, the swift-footed little _Ruby_ might easily
have escaped from them; but two looked very like frigates, and many of
that class in those days were superior in speed to the fleetest English
frigates.

All sail was made on the _Ruby_, and she was kept due north.  "We may
fall in with one of our own squadrons, or we may manage to keep ahead of
the enemy till night, and then I shall have no fear of them," observed
the Captain as he walked the quarterdeck with his first lieutenant.

"We shall soon see how fast the Frenchmen can walk along after us,"
answered Mr Brine.  "I hope the _Ruby_ won't prove a sluggard on this
occasion; she has shown that she can go along when in chase of an
enemy."

"Even should the two frigates come up with us, we must manage to keep
them at bay," said the Captain.  "I know, Brine, that you will never
strike as long as a hope of escape remains."

"That I will not, sir!" exclaimed the first lieutenant warmly, and Mr
Brine was not the man to neglect such a pledge.

"Never fear, lads," said Paul Pringle; "the Captain carried us clear
with about as great odds against us once before, and he'll do it again
now if the breeze holds fair."

"But suppose it doesn't, and those thundering big Frenchmen manage to
get alongside of us, what are we to do then?" asked a young seaman who
had lately been impressed from a merchantman.

"What do, Dunnage?--why, fight them, man!" answered Paul briskly.  "You
don't suppose, do you, that we should do anything else till we have done
that?  We may knock away their spars, or maybe a shift of wind may come,
or a gale spring up, or we may give such hard knocks that the enemy may
think us a bad bargain.  At all events, the first thing a man-of-war has
to do is to fight."

In a short time it was seen that the two frigates took the lead, and
that one of them was much ahead of the other.  "All right," said Paul
when he perceived this, "we shall be able to settle with one before the
other comes on."

The officers, however, knew well enough, as in reality did Paul, that a
vessel much inferior in size might so far cripple them and impede their
progress as to allow the more powerful ships to come up.  Still the
_Ruby_ was well ahead when the sun went down.  As twilight rapidly
deepened into the gloom of night, the spirits of all on board increased.
A light was now shown at the cabin window.  There was no moon, and the
night became very dark.  Meantime, a cask had been prepared with a
bright light on the top of it.  The loftier sails were handed, the cask
was lowered, and at the same instant the after-ports were closed.  The
light was seen floating brightly and calmly astern.  The helm was then
put down, the yards braced up, and the frigate stood away on a bowline
close-hauled to the westward.

For some hours she tore on with her hammock nettings almost in the
water; but it was a race for freedom, and what Briton would not undergo
any risk for that?  No one, not even the idlers, thought of turning in.
Dawn came at length.  Eager and sharp eyes were on the lookout at the
mastheads, but not a sign of the enemy was perceived.  Once more the
helm was put up, and the frigate stood to the north-west.

Never did a ship's company turn to at their breakfast with more hearty
goodwill than did that of the _Ruby_.  The only person missing at his
mess was Gregory Gipples; and this convinced Tim Fid that he must have
thrown himself overboard.  True Blue and Harry Hartland, however,
differed with him, and argued the point.  "If he was such a coward and
so afraid of shot, surely he would not deliberately go and destroy
himself," said they.

Fid insisted that his great fear of being shot made him dread less the
idea of drowning.

"He wasn't quite such a fool as all that," said Harry.  "Here comes Sam
Smatch.  Let's ask him what he thinks about it."

"What do I think about it?" exclaimed Sam, after they had laid the state
of the case before him.  "I'll tell ye, boys.  Big Gipples, him no fool.
He's stowed his fat carcase away somewhere down in de hold.  Let's you
all and me go and look for him, and we soon rouse him up like one great
rat with rope's end."

"Set a thief to catch a thief!" whispered Harry to Fid.  "I thought he
would know where Gipples was likely to be found."

Sam had been known on more than one occasion to stow himself snugly away
during action.  When discovered, he had boldly avowed the wisdom of his
conduct.  "For why?" he argued.  "Suppose now my arm shot away, ship's
company lose fiddler; for how I fiddle without arm?  And suppose no
fiddler, how anchor got up? how ship go to sea? and how take prize? and
how dance and be merry?  No, no; you men no signify--go and be shot.  I
berry important--take care of self."

Accordingly, Sam being the guide, the party set out with proper
authority to look for the missing Gipples.  They searched in every
vacant space in the cable tier, and in every accessible spot in the
hold, among the water-casks and more bulky stores not under lock and
key; but no Gregory was forthcoming.

Fid began to fear that his forebodings would prove true.  One spot,
however, had to be visited, commonly called the coal-hole.  It was very
dark and close, and not a place that any one would willingly pass a day
in.

They thought that every corner had been explored, when, just as they
were retiring, Fid heard a suppressed groan.  He started, and, had he
been alone, he felt that he should not have liked it; but he was a brave
little fellow, especially in company with others; so he stopped and
listened, and called Sam, who held the lantern, to examine the spot
whence the groan had proceeded.

There was a loose pile of firewood in one corner; and, on examining it,
there was no doubt that it had slipped over during the night.  "He or
his ghost is under there," said Fid, pointing to it.

"Even if it's his ghost, it's not a pleasant place to be in!" exclaimed
True Blue, setting to work to remove the logs.

This was soon accomplished; and there, sure enough, black as a sweep
from the coal dust, and bruised with the logs, lay not the ghost of
Gipples, but Gipples himself, terribly frightened with the idea that he
was looked-for only that he might be drawn forth to be punished.

"Oh, lagged--lagged!" he exclaimed bitterly.  "I'll not do it again--
indeed I won't, your worship.  Just let me off this once.  Oh do!"

"What's the fellow singing out about?" exclaimed Sam.  "Just you come
out.  No one's going to hurt you.  Just wash yourself and come and have
some breakfast.  You look pretty near dead already."

The truth was that the poor wretch was already out of his wits with
fright, starvation, and sleepiness, and had a very confused idea of
where he was or what had happened.

Sam Smatch now acted the part of a good Samaritan towards him.  He got
him up on the lower-deck, and then went and called the doctor, and said
that he had found him bruised all over and apparently out of his wits.
The doctor ordered him to be put into a hammock in the sick-bay.

Sam, however, first got him washed and cleaned, and gave him some food,
which considerably revived him.  After this, when Gipples came to
himself, Sam administered a severe lecture to him for his cowardice.

"But you, Sam--you're afraid, I'm sure, Sam," whimpered the culprit.

"No, I not afraid," he answered indignantly; "but why for I go lose my
head or arm, when I get noding for it?  I am paid to play the fiddle and
help the cook.  I do my duty and keep out of harm's way.  You, Gipples,
are paid to be shot--you must stay where the shot comes, or you not do
your duty.  There all de difference."

"Then I'll try and get a rating where I needn't stop and be shot!" cried
Gipples, as if a bright idea had seized him.  "If I can't, I'll cut and
run.  I can't stand it--that I can't."

Had not the doctor reported the boy Gipples as having met with an
accident, he would have been severely flogged for not having been at his
quarters.  As it was, he escaped without further punishment; but he got
the name from his messmates of "Gregory Coal-hole."

The ship without further adventure reached Portsmouth.  At this time, in
spite of the destruction of so many ships and magazines at Toulon, the
French Republic was preparing an armament so great that she hoped to be
able at once to crush with it the fleets of Old England.  The British
Government, however, had not been idle; and a superb fleet of
thirty-four line-of-battle ships, and numerous frigates, under Lord
Howe, lay at Portsmouth ready to sail to meet the enemy.

Besides fighting, the Admiral had, however, two important objects in
view.  One was to intercept a convoy of some three hundred and fifty
merchant vessels coming from the ports of the United States, laden with
provisions and the produce of the West India Islands for the supply of
the people of France, who were threatened with starvation for the want
of them; the other object was to see the British East and West India and
Newfoundland convoys clear of the Channel, where they might be
intercepted by French cruisers.

The _Ruby_ was attached to Lord Howe's squadron.  It was a magnificent
sight, when, on the morning of the 2nd of May 1794, a fleet of one
hundred and forty-eight sail collected at Saint Helen's, of which
forty-nine were ships of war, weighed by signal, and with the wind at
north-east, stood out from that well-known anchorage at the east end of
the Isle of Wight, from which they were clear by noon.  The weather was
fine, the crews were in good discipline, the ships kept well together,
and the men doubted not that they were able to fight and to conquer any
foe they might encounter.

Never had Paul Pringle felt more proud of his country and his
profession, as, walking the deck of the frigate, with True Blue at his
side, he looked out at the numerous magnificent ships which glided
proudly over the blue ocean.

"Look there, Billy--look there, my boy!  Isn't that a sight to make a
sailor's heart swell high with pride?" he exclaimed as he swept his arm
round the horizon.

"It does, godfather--it does!" answered True Blue warmly.  "And if I
hadn't loved the sea and the life of a sailor better than anything else,
I should have loved it now, I think."

"Right, boy--right!" exclaimed Paul.  "It's the calling for a man--
there's no doubt on't.  Look there now at Earl Howe's ship, the _Queen
Charlotte_, called after our own good Queen, with her hundred guns; and
then the _Royal George_, with Admiral Sir Alexander Hood's flag, and the
_Royal Sovereign_, which carries that of Admiral Graves, each with their
hundred bulldogs; and the _Barfleur_, and the _Impregnable_.  And the
_Queen_, and the _Glory_, each of them not much smaller; and the
_Gibraltar_, and the _Caesar_, of eighty guns each.  And then look at
that hoop of seventy-fours.  There's the _Billy Ruffian_, and the
_Tremendous_, and the _Ramillies_, and the _Audacious_, and the
_Leviathan_, and _Majestic_, and the _Orion_, and _Marlborough_, and
_Brunswick_, and _Culloden_--they'll make a noise in the world some day,
and perhaps before long too."

"That's it, Paul," said True Blue, looking up at his godfather's face.
"I like our ship, as you know right well, and every timber and plank in
her; but I should like to be aboard one of those seventy-fours when the
day of battle comes.  We aboard the frigates shall see what is going on,
but the fine fellows belonging to them will have the real work."

Paul glanced down approvingly at True Blue.  "Never mind that, boy," he
answered.  "We have had our turn while the line-of-battle ships were in
harbour doing nothing, and we shall have it again, no fear of that.
Besides, d'ye see, the enemy have frigates, and we may pick out one of
them to lay aboard; or what do you say when the Frenchmen take to
flight, we may then go in chase of some of their ships, and, big as they
are, make them haul down their colours."

"Ay, that's some consolation," answered True Blue.  "Still, it is not
like being in the middle of the fight--that you'll allow, godfather."

"No, True Blue, it is not, boy; but in the middle of the fight you see
nothing often--only your own gun and the side of the enemy at which you
are firing away," remarked Paul.  "Now aboard a frigate we are outside
of all, and can see all the movements of our ships as well as those of
the enemy; and as to fighting, a frigate with a smart Captain gets twice
as much of that as any line-of-battle ship; except, perhaps, three or
four favourites of fortune, which somehow seem to be in at everything.
Look now, there's Lord Howe signalling away, and Admiral Montague
answering him."

The fleet was now off the Lizard.  The signal was made for the different
convoys to part company, and for Admiral Montague, with six
seventy-fours and two frigates, to protect them as far as the latitude
of Cape Finisterre.  Away sailed the rich argosies, many of the Indiamen
worth hundreds of thousands of pounds, and almost as large as the
line-of-battle ships themselves.  Extending far as the eye could reach,
they covered the glittering ocean with their white canvas and shining
hulls, their flags streaming out gaily to the breeze.

Lord Howe, with the remainder of the men-of-war, steered for Ushant,
and, arriving there, sent some frigates to look into Brest, to ascertain
if the French fleet was there.  The frigates returned with the report
that it was in the harbour, a large number of ships having been clearly
seen.  Lord Howe calculating the time that the expected convoy from
America would probably arrive, steered straight on a course to intercept
them.  The line-of-battle ships had of necessity to keep together, in
case of encountering an enemy's squadron; but the frigates were
scattered far and wide; and True Blue had no reason to complain of want
of employment, as night and day a sharp lookout was kept for a strange
sail.

None, however, was seen, and once more the fleet returned to the
neighbourhood of Brest.  Two frigates, with two line-of-battle ships to
support them, were now ordered to look once more into Brest harbour.  On
going in, they met with an American merchantman coming out, and, on a
boat from the _Leviathan_ boarding her, the master informed the officer
in command that the French fleet had sailed some days before.  This
report was found to be correct, and the same evening the reconnoitring
detachment rejoined the fleet.

Without loss of time, Lord Howe sailed in search of the French fleet.
This consisted of some twenty-five ships of the line, and sixteen
frigates or corvettes under the command of Admiral Villaret-Joyeuse, in
the _Montague_, of 120 guns; besides this ship, considered so enormous
in those days, there were three of 110 guns, and four eighty-gun ships,
all the rest being seventy-fours.  The first object of this fleet was to
protect the expected convoy of provision ships, while that of the
English was to capture it.  The French Admiral steered, therefore, a
direct course to the point where he hoped to intercept the convoy.  His
ships, indeed, passed so close to those of the British during a thick
fog that they heard the usual fog-signals of the latter, such as the
ringing of bells and beating of drums; but as their object was not then
to fight, they did their best not to be discovered, and on the following
morning, when the fog cleared, they were out of sight of each other.

Lord Howe had, however, determined to overtake and bring the Frenchmen
to action; and as the ocean at that time was covered with vessels of all
nations, playing somewhat a puss-in-the-corner game as they ran from
port to port, he had every reason to expect that he would obtain the
required information as to their movements.

On the evening of the 19th of May a frigate appeared, despatched by
Admiral Montague, saying that, while cruising in the latitude of Cape
Ortegal, he had captured a French twenty-gun ship and a corvette, with
ten British sail of the Newfoundland convoy which they had taken; that,
from the information he obtained from the prisoners, he found that the
squadron protecting the American merchant fleet now consisted of nine
line-of-battle ships and several frigates, and requesting, therefore,
reinforcements.  He was then, he stated, about to proceed along the same
meridian of longitude to the latitude of 45 degrees 47 minutes north, in
which, according to the information of the prisoners, the Rochefort
squadron had been directed to cruise.

On learning this, Lord Howe, believing that Admiral Montague's squadron
was in danger of being overpowered by Villaret, made all sail to his
rescue.

On the 21st, however, the lookout gave notice of a strange fleet in
sight.  Chase was made, and ten out of fifteen sail of merchantmen--part
of the Lisbon convoy captured by the Brest fleet--were retaken.

The vessels were burnt, as Lord Howe could not weaken his crews by
sending them into port.  From the prize crews taken in them, he learned
that the French had prepared red-hot shot, and that the officers had
determined to engage at close quarters.  At the first piece of
information the British seamen were inclined to laugh; and as to the
second, though inclined to doubt it, they only hoped it might be true.

No sooner was the information received that the French fleet was so
near, than Lord Howe abandoned his intention of joining Admiral
Montague, whom he considered in safety, and stretched away to the
northward and westward in daily expectation of coming up with the enemy.

All the information he gleaned confirmed Lord Howe in the opinion that
he was but a short distance from the enemy.  The morning of the 28th of
May found the British fleet, with a strong wind at south by west and a
heavy sea, formed in order of sailing, with the lookout frigates
stationed around them.  The _Ruby_ was to windward, about one hundred
and forty leagues west of Ushant, and True Blue was one of the lookouts.
Great was his delight when at 6:30 a.m., he discovered a sail to the
south-south-east, and scarcely had he hailed the deck with the
information than he made out a strange fleet directly to windward.

"Hurrah! there is the enemy!" was the general cry throughout the British
fleet.

Intense was the interest on board every English ship.  In about two
hours the French were seen bearing down in somewhat loose order; but
when about ten miles off, they hauled their wind and began to form in
order of battle.

The frigates were now for safety recalled, and the main body continued
in the order of sailing, except the _Bellerophon_, _Leviathan_,
_Marlborough_, _Audacious_, _Russell_, and _Thunderer_, which were a
considerable distance in advance to windward, and were coming fast up
with the enemy's rear.  The ever-exciting signal of the whole fleet to
chase and prepare for action was now thrown out from the _Queen
Charlotte_.  Every sail the ships could carry was immediately set, and
away the whole fleet plunged through the rolling, tumbling sea in chase
of the flying enemy.  It was not, however, till towards the evening that
Admiral Pasley, in the _Bellerophon_, closed with the rear ship of the
enemy's line, a three-decker, on which he commenced a firm and resolute
attack, supported occasionally by the ships in his division.  The
_Bellerophon_ being soon disabled, fell to leeward; and just then the
_Audacious_ came up, and for two hours most gallantly engaged the
Frenchman, which proved to be the _Revolutionnaire_ of 110 guns.  The
enemy's mizen-mast falling overboard, and her lower yards and
main-topsail-yard having been shot away, she fell athwart hawse of the
_Audacious_.  Getting clear, however, she put before the wind; nor was
it in the power of the latter, from her own crippled condition, to
follow her.

Still the French, though having the weather-gage, and therefore having
it entirely in their power to engage, avoided an action.  By the
persevering efforts of some of the weathermost ships of the British,
several of their ships most to leeward were compelled to fight.  One of
them indeed struck; but, a consort coming up and pouring a broadside
into her as a gentle reminder of her duty she again hoisted her colours.
The frigates meantime were hovering about, ready to obey any orders
they might receive, their Captains and officers, as well as their crews,
naturally severely criticising the movements of the two fleets, and
jealous that they themselves were not permitted to take part in the now
active work going on.

"That's always like them, Abel, isn't it?" exclaimed Paul Pringle as he
watched the main body of the French fleet still keeping aloof.  "It puts
me just in mind of what they used to do in the West Indies.  When they
numbered twice as strong as we did, they would come down boldly enough;
but when we showed our teeth and barked, they'd be about again, thinking
that they would wait for a better opportunity."

"Ay, Paul, I mind it well.  Even Billy here minds it, too, though he was
a little chap then," answered Abel, placing his hand on the lad's
shoulder.  "And, True Blue, what's more, do you tell it to your
children's children.  Never mind how big may be the ships of the enemy,
or how many guns they may carry, let British seamen when they meet them,
as we do nowadays, feel sure that they will conquer, and I am very sure
that conquer they will; ay, however the Frenchmen may bluster and boast
of their mountain ships, just as the French Admiral does now."

"That's it, mate," chimed in Peter Ogle.  "That's the way.  Go at them.
Show them that you know you are going to thrash them--stick to it.
Never mind if you are getting the worst; be sure you'll be getting the
better before long, and, as Abel was a-saying, so you will in the end."

"Right, right!" said Abel impressively.  "Suppose now they were for to
go for to cover up their ships with padding, or thick coats of wood or
iron, just as men once had to do their bodies, I've heard tell, when
they went to battle,--not that in the matter of ships it could be done
on course, ha! ha! ha! but we never knows what vagaries the Monsieurs
may try.  Well, what should we do?  Stand and play at long bowls with
them?  No, I should think not; but go at them, run them down, or lay
them alongside just as we do now, and give them the taste of our
cutlasses.  They'll never stand them as long as there's muscle and bone
in an Englishman's arm."

"Never did you say a truer word, Abel!" exclaimed Paul.  "And mind you
remember it, True Blue.  But I say, mates, what's the _Caesar_ about
there?  I've been watching her for some hours, and there she is still
under treble-reefed topsails; and, instead of boldly standing up along
the French line, she has been edging away, and now she's been and tacked
as if she was afraid of the enemy.  What can she be about?  He's making
the Frenchmen fancy that there is a British officer in this fleet who
fears them.  Oh, boys, for my part I would sooner be the cook than the
Captain of that ship!  But don't let's look at him; it makes my heart
turn sick.  Look instead at our brave old Admiral!  He is a fine fellow.
See, see! he has tacked.  He doesn't care a rap for the Frenchman's
fire.  The _Queen Charlotte_ must be getting it pretty warmly, though.
There, he's standing right down, and he's going to break the French
line.  There's a broadside the old lady has poured into the quarter of
one of those rear French ships.  Now he luffs up right under her stern,
and has repeated the dose.  The Frenchman will not forget it in a hurry.
There go the _Billy Ruffian_ and the _Leviathan_.  They'll cut off a
couple of Frenchmen if they manage well.  Hurrah!  That's the way to go
about the work.  It cannot be long before our fine old chief makes the
Frenchmen fight, whether they will or not."

Several other ships, besides those observed by Paul Pringle and True
Blue, were hotly engaged during the course of that 29th of May, and lost
a considerable number of officers and men.



CHAPTER NINETEEN.

On the first of June 1794, the British fleet was steering to the
westward with a moderate breeze, south by west, and a tolerably smooth
sea.  All night Lord Howe had carried a press of sail to keep up with
the French fleet, which he rightly conjectured would be doing the same;
and as he eagerly looked forth at early dawn, great was his satisfaction
to descry them, about six miles off, on the starboard or lee bow of his
fleet, still steering in line of battle on the larboard tack.  His great
fear had been that the French Admiral would weather on him and escape;
now he felt sure that he had him.

At about 5 a.m. the ships of the British fleet bore up, steering first
to the north-west, then to the north; and then again, having closed with
the Frenchmen, they hauled their wind once more, and the Admiral,
knowing that their crews had heavy work before them, ordered them to
heave-to and to pipe to breakfast.

The frigates, the _Ruby_ among them, and the smaller vessels brought up
the rear.  Exactly at twelve minutes past 8 a.m., Lord Howe made the
looked-for signal for the fleet to fill and bear down on the enemy; then
came one for each ship to steer for and independently engage the ship
opposed to her in the enemy's line.

The British line was to windward, and Lord Howe wished that each ship
should cut through the enemy's line astern of her proper opponent, and
engage her to leeward.

Soon after 9 a.m. the French ships opened their fire on the advancing
British line, which was warmly returned.  The gallant old English
Admiral set an example of bravery by steering for the stern of the
largest French ship, the _Montague_, and passed between her and the
_Jacobin_, almost running aboard the latter.

So energetically did the men labour at their guns, and so tremendous was
the fire that they poured into both their opponents, that in less than
an hour the _Montague_ had her stern-frame and starboard quarter
shattered to pieces, and a hundred killed and two hundred wounded.  In
this condition she was still able to make sail, which she did, as did
also the _Jacobin_, the _Queen Charlotte_ being too much disabled in her
masts and rigging to follow.

Most of the other British ships were in the meantime hotly engaging
those of the enemy.  The _Queen_ especially received a tremendous fire
from several ships, and became so crippled that the _Montague_, after
she had got clear of the _Queen Charlotte_, followed by several other
ships, bore down to surround her.

Lord Howe, however, having once more made sail on his ship, wore round,
followed by several other ships, to her rescue.  The _Montague_, though
she had suffered so much in her hull and had lost so many men, had her
masts and rigging entire; and this enabled her to make sail ahead,
followed by other ships which had in the same way escaped with their
rigging uninjured.  Twelve French ships, however, were by half-past
eleven almost totally dismasted, while eleven of the British were in
little better condition; but then the Frenchmen had suffered in addition
far more severely in their hulls.

The proceedings of the line-of-battle ships had been viewed at a
distance by the eager crew of the _Ruby_.  As one ship after the other
was dismasted, their enthusiasm knew no bounds.

"Oh, Paul, I wish I was there!" cried True Blue vehemently.  "There!--
there!--another Frenchman is getting it!  Down comes her foremast!--
see!--her mainmast and mizen-mast follow!  Oh, what a crash there must
be!  That's the eighth Frenchman without a lower mast standing.  Hurrah!
we shall have them all!"

"Not quite so sure of that, boy," observed Peter Ogle, who had come upon
the forecastle.  "Two of our own ships, you see, are no better off; and
several have lost their topmasts and topgallant-masts.  Still they are
right bravely doing their duty.  I've never seen warmer work in my day.
Have you, Paul?"

"No.  With Lord Rodney we have had hot work enough; but the Frenchmen
didn't fight as well as they do to-day, I must say that for them,"
observed Paul.  "See now that Admiral of theirs; he is bearing down once
more to help some of his disabled ships.  See, his division seems to
have four or five of them under their lee; but there are a good many
more left to our share."

"Hurrah!" cried True Blue, who had been watching an action briskly
carried on in another direction.  "There's one more Frenchman will be
ours before long.  That's a tremendous drubbing the _Brunswick_ has
given her."

No ship's company displayed more determined gallantry during that
eventful day than did the _Brunswick_, commanded by the brave Captain
Harvey.  Being prevented from passing between the _Achille_ and
_Vengeur_, in consequence of the latter shooting ahead and filling up
the intervening space, she ran foul of the _Vengeur_, her own starboard
anchors hooking on the Frenchman's larboard foreshrouds and
fore-channels.

"Shall we cut away the anchor, sir?" inquired the master, Mr Stewart,
of the Captain.

"No, no.  We have got her, and we will keep her," replied Captain
Harvey.

The two ships on this swung close to each other, and, paying off before
the wind with their heads to the northward, with their yards squared,
and with a considerable way on them, they speedily ran out of the line,
commencing a furious engagement.  The British crew, unable to open the
eight lower-deck starboard ports from the third abaft, blew them off.
The _Vengeur's_ musketry, meantime, and her poop carronades, soon played
havoc on the _Brunswick's_ quarterdeck, killing several officers and
men, and wounding others, among whom was Captain Harvey, three of his
fingers being torn away by a musket-shot, though he refused to leave the
deck.

For an hour and a half the gallant _Brunswick_ carried on the desperate
strife, the courage of her opponent's crew being equal to that of her
own, when, at about 11 a.m., a French ship was discovered through the
smoke, with her foremast only standing, bearing down on her larboard
quarter, with her gangways and rigging crowded with men, prepared, it
was evident, to board her, for the purpose of releasing the _Vengeur_.
Instead of trembling at finding the number of their enemies doubled, the
British seamen cheered, and the men stationed at the five aftermost
lower-deck guns on the starboard side were turned over to those on the
larboard side, on which the fresh enemy appeared.  A double-headed shot
was added to each of these guns, already loaded with a 32-pounder.  The
main and upper deck guns were already manned.

"Now, my lads," cried the officer, "fire high, and knock away her
remaining mast!"

The stranger, which was the _Achille_, had now got within musket-shot,
and wonderfully surprised were her crew at the hot fire with which they
were received.  Round after round from the after-guns were discharged in
rapid succession, till, in a few minutes, down came the Frenchman's
foremast, falling on the starboard side, where the wreck of the main and
mizen-masts already lay, and preventing him making the slightest
resistance.  A few more rounds were given.  They were not returned, and
down came the Frenchman's colours, which had been hoisted on one of her
remaining stumps.  The _Brunswick_, however, was utterly unable to take
possession, not having a boat that would swim, and being still hotly
engaged with her opponent on the opposite side.

When the Frenchmen discovered this, they once more rehoisted their
colours, and, setting a spritsail on the bowsprit, endeavoured to make
off.  The _Brunswick_, as they did so, gave them a parting dose; but it
had not the effect of making them once more lower their colours.  All
this time, the crews stationed at the _Brunswick's_ lower and main deck
guns were heroically labouring away.  Profiting by the rolling of the
_Vengeur_, they frequently drove home the quoins and depressed the
muzzles of the guns, which were loaded with two round-shot, and then
before the next discharge withdrew the quoins and pointed the muzzles
upwards, thus alternately firing into her opponent's bottom and ripping
up her decks.  While, however, they were hurling destruction into the
side of the enemy below, the French musketry was sweeping the
quarterdeck, forecastle, and poop, whence, in consequence, it was
scarcely possible to work the guns.  Several times, also, she had been
on fire from the wadding which came blazing on board.

The brave Captain Harvey, on passing along the deck, was knocked down by
a splinter; but, though seriously injured, he was quickly on his legs
again encouraging his men.  Soon afterwards, however, the crown of a
double-headed shot, which had split, struck his right arm and shattered
it to fragments.  He fell into the arms of some of those standing round.

"Stay a moment before you take me below!" he exclaimed, believing that
he was mortally wounded.  "Persevere, my brave lads, in your duty.
Continue the action with spirit, for the honour of our King and country;
and remember my last word, `_The colours of the Brunswick shall never be
struck_!'"

Hearty shouts answered this heroic address, and the crew set to work
with renewed energy to compel their opponents to succumb.  Never,
perhaps, however, were two braver men than the Captains of the
_Brunswick_ and _Vengeur_ opposed to each other, and their spirits
undoubtedly animated their crews.  If the British had resolved to
conquer, the French had determined not to yield as long as their ship
remained afloat.

Still it appeared doubtful which would come off the victor.  At this
crisis, for an instant, as the smoke cleared off, another line-of-battle
ship was seen approaching the _Brunswick_.  If a Frenchman, all on board
saw it would go hard with her.  Still they determined not to disappoint
their Captain's hopes, and to go down with their colours flying rather
than strike.

The command had now devolved on Lieutenant Cracraft.  For three hours
the two ships had been locked in their fiery embrace, pounding away at
each other with the most desperate fury, when, near 1 p.m., the
_Vengeur_, tearing away the three anchors from the _Brunswick's_ bow,
rolled herself clear, and the two well-matched combatants separated.

The newcomer was seen to be the _Ramillies_, with her masts and spars
still uninjured.  Having, indeed, had but two seamen killed and seven
wounded, she was quite a fresh ship.  She, however, waited for the
French ship to settle farther from the _Brunswick_, in order to have
room to fire at her without injuring the latter.  The brave crew of the
_Brunswick_ were, however, not idle even yet, and continued their fire
so well-directed that they split the _Vengeur's_ rudder and shattered
her stern-post, besides making a large hole in her counter, through
which they could see the water rushing furiously.

At this spot the _Ramillies_, now only forty yards distant, pointed her
guns, and the _Brunswick_, still firing, in a few minutes reduced the
brave _Vengeur_ to a sinking state.  Just then, it being seen from the
_Ramillies_ that the _Achille_ was endeavouring to make her escape, all
sail was made on her, and away she stood from the two exhausted
combatants in chase of the fugitive, which she ultimately secured
without opposition.  Soon after 1 p.m., the two gallant opponents ceased
firing at each other, and at the same time a Union-Jack was displayed
over the quarter of the Frenchman as a token of submission and a desire
to be relieved.

Not a boat, however, could be sent from the _Brunswick_, and in a few
minutes her mizen-mast went by the board and made her still less able to
render assistance.  It made the hearts of the brave crew of the
_Brunswick_ bleed to think of the sad fate which awaited their late
enemies, and which no exertion they had the power of making could avert.

Mr Cracraft now considered what was best to be done.  The French
Admiral Villaret was leading a fresh line on the starboard tack, to
recover as many as he could of his dismasted ships; and the difficulty
of the _Brunswick_ was to rejoin her own fleet, without passing
dangerously near that of the French, the loss of the mizen-mast and the
wounded state of the other masts rendering it impossible to haul on a
wind as was necessary.  Accordingly, the head of the _Brunswick_ was put
to the northward for the purpose of making the best of her way into
port, while all possible sail was made on her.

Sad was her state.  Her mizen-mast was gone, and her two other masts and
bowsprit were desperately wounded; her yards were shattered; all her
running and most of her standing rigging was shot away, and her sails
were in shreds and tatters.  Twenty-three guns lay dismounted; her
starboard quarter gallery had been carried away, and her best bower
anchor with the starboard cathead was towing under her stem.  Her brave
Captain was mortally wounded, and she had three officers, eleven
marines, and thirty seamen killed, and three officers, nineteen marines
and ninety-one seamen wounded.  The survivors immediately began to fish
the masts, repair the damaged rigging, and to secure the lower-deck
ports, through which the water was rushing at every roll.  Her
adventures were not over, though; for at 3 p.m., on her homeward course,
she fell in with the _Jemappes_, wholly dismasted, and moved only by
means of her spritsails.  The _Brunswick_, which had received, early in
the day, considerable annoyance from her, luffed up under her lee for
the purpose of capturing her; but her crew displayed the Union-Jack over
her quarter, and hailed that she had struck to the English Admiral, at
the same time pointing at the _Queen_, then some distance to the south.
The assertion being credited, the _Brunswick_ stood on, and happily
reached Plymouth Sound in safety, where, on the 30th, her brave Captain,
John Harvey, died.

Her gallant opponent, meantime, the _Vengeur_, soon after they parted,
lost her wounded fore and main masts, the latter in its fall carrying
away the head of the mizen-mast.  Thus reduced to a complete wreck, she
rolled her ports deeply in the water, and the lids of those on the
larboard side having been torn or knocked off in her late engagement,
she filled faster than ever.  Hopeless seemed the fate of all on board.
Her officers scarcely expected that she could float many hours, or
indeed minutes, longer.

None of her own consorts could come to her assistance.  Her boats were
knocked to pieces; there was no time to construct a raft, and the sea
was too rough to launch one.  Her decks were covered with the dead and
dying; her cockpit full of desperately wounded men, not less than two
hundred in all.  Discipline was at end.  Many broke into the
spirit-room.  Many burst forth into wild Republican songs, and insisted
on the tricoloured flag being again hoisted.

Their brave Captain looked on with grief and pain at what was going
forward, and did his utmost to restore order.  He had a young son with
him--a gallant little fellow, who had stood unharmed by his side during
the hottest of the fight; and was he now thus to perish?  Could he save
the boy?  There seemed no hope.

Captain Garland had been aloft all day with his glass, as had also
several of his officers, eagerly watching the proceedings of the two
fleets.  Never for a moment did he doubt on which side victory would
drop her wreath of laurel; still his heart beat with an anxiety unusual
for him.  He had remarked the two ships remaining hotly engaged, yardarm
to yardarm out of the line, and he had never lost sight of them
altogether.  What their condition would be after so desperate and
lengthened an encounter he justly surmised, and he at length bore down
to aid a friend in capturing an enemy, or to succour one or the other.

The _Ruby_ had more than one ship to contend with on her way, and her
boats were summoned by signal to take possession of a prize; so that the
evening was drawing on when she, with another ship, and the _Rattler_
cutter, got down to the sinking Frenchman.

Evidently, from the depth of the shattered seventy-four in the water,
and the slow way in which she rolled, she had but a short time longer to
float.  The guns were secured, and every boat that could swim was
instantly lowered from the sides of the British ships.  The gallant
seamen showed themselves as eager to save life as they had been to
destroy it.

"Jump, jump, Jean Crapaud!--jump, jump, friends!" they shouted as they
got alongside.  "We'll catch you, never fear," they added, holding out
their arms.

Numbers of Frenchmen, begrimed with powder and covered with blood, threw
themselves headlong into the boats, and had it not been for the English
seamen, would have been severely injured.  Some refused to come, and
looked through the ports, shouting, "Vive la Nation!", "Vive la
Republique!"

"Poor fools!" cried Paul Pringle sadly; "they'll soon be singing a
different tune when the water is closing over their heads.  That will
bring them too late to their senses."

The boats, as fast as their eager crews could urge them, went backwards
and forwards between the sinking Frenchman and the English ships.  Some
hundreds had been taken off; but still the wounded and many of the
drunken remained.

Sir Henry Elmore commanded one of the boats, and True Blue was in her.
In one of her early trips an officer appeared at one of the ports,
dragging forward a young midshipman.

"Monsieur," he said, hearing Sir Henry speak French, "I beg that you
will take this brave boy in your boat.  He wishes to be one of the last
to leave the ship, and, as you see, we know not how soon she may go
down, and he may be lost.  He is our Captain's son, and where his father
is I cannot say."

"Gladly--willingly," answered Sir Henry.  "And you, my friend, come with
the boy."

The lad showed signs of resistance; but True Blue sprang up into the
port, aided by a boathook which he held, and, taking the lad round the
waist, leaped with him into the boat.  The officer refused to come,
saying that he had duties to which he must attend; and the boat being
now full, Sir Henry had to return to the frigate.

On hastening back to the ship, the officer again appeared.  "I will
accompany you now," he said, leaping in and taking his seat in the
sternsheets.  "But I have been searching in vain for our brave Captain
Renaudin.  What can have, become of him I do not know.  If he is lost,
it will break that poor boy's heart, they were so wrapped up in each
other."

The boat, as he spoke, was rapidly filling with French seamen.

"Shove off! shove off!" cried Sir Henry energetically.

It was time, indeed.  There was a general rush from all the decks and
ports of the hapless _Vengeur_.  Some threw themselves into the water,
some headlong into the boats; others danced away, shouting as before;
while one, more drunken or frantic than the rest, waved over her counter
the tricoloured flag under which the ship had been so gallantly fought.

The boats shoved off and pulled away as fast as they could move; there
was danger in delay.  The men pulled for their lives.  The ship gave a
heavy lurch, the madmen shouted louder than ever; and then every voice
was silent, and down she went like some huge monster beneath the waves,
which speedily closed over the spot where she had been, not a human
being floating upwards alive from her vast hull, now the tomb of nearly
a third of her crew.

There were many other desperate encounters that day, but none so
gallantly fought out to the death as that between the _Brunswick_ and
the _Vengeur_.  Six line-of-battle ships were secured as prizes.  The
total loss of the French in killed, wounded, and prisoners was not less
than 7000 men, of whom fully 3000 were killed.

The whole loss of the English on the 1st of June, and on the previous
days, was 290 killed and 858 wounded.  The French having suffered more
in their hulls than in their masts and rigging, were able to manoeuvre
better than the English; and Admiral Villaret, being content with having
secured four of his ships, made no attempt to renew the battle, but
under all the sail he could set, with the dismasted ships in tow, stood
away to the northward, and by 6 p.m. was completely out of sight, a
single frigate only remaining astern to reconnoitre.

Thus ended this celebrated sea-fight, chronicled in the naval annals of
England as the glorious First--1st of June.  Its immediate results were
in themselves not important; but it showed Englishmen what they were
ready enough to believe, that they could thrash the Frenchmen as in days
of yore; and it taught the French to dread the dogged resolution and
stern courage of the English, and to be prepared to suffer defeat
whenever they should meet on equal terms.

The news of the victory reached London on the 10th.  So important was it
considered, that Lord Chatham carried the account of it to the opera,
and just after the second act it was made known to the house.  A burst
of transport interrupted the opera, and never was any scene of emotion
so rapturous as the audience exhibited when the band struck up "Rule
Britannia!"  The same enthusiasm welcomed the news at the other
theatres.  The event was celebrated throughout the night by the ringing
of bells and firing of cannon, and the next day at noon by the firing of
the Park and Tower guns.  For three successive evenings also the whole
metropolis was illuminated.

A few days afterwards, the King himself, with the Queen and Royal
Family, went to Portsmouth to visit the fleet.  Lord Howe's flag was
shifted to a frigate, and the royal standard was hoisted on board the
_Queen Charlotte_.  The whole garrison was under arms, and the concourse
of people was immense.  The King, with his own hand, carried a valuable
diamond-hilted sword from the Commissioner's house down to the boat.  As
soon as His Majesty arrived on board the _Queen Charlotte_, with numbers
of his ministers and nobles, and the officers of the fleet standing
round on the quarterdeck, he presented the sword to Lord Howe, as a mark
of his satisfaction and entire approbation of his conduct.

As their Majesties' barges passed, the crews cheered, the ships saluted,
the bands played martial symphonies, and every sign of a general
enthusiasm was exhibited.

The next day, the King gave audience to the officers of Lord Howe's
fleet, and to the officers of the army and navy generally; and after
their Majesties had dined at the Commissioner's house, they proceeded up
the harbour to view the six French prizes which lay there at their
moorings.

The primary object for which the fleet had put to sea was not
accomplished; the great American convoy was not fallen in with, nor did
Admiral Montague succeed in intercepting it, though he himself met
Admiral Villaret's defeated Squadron, and might, had the French shown
more courage, have been overpowered by it.  He avoided an engagement and
returned into port; and a day or two afterwards, the expected convoy
appeared off the French coast, and gained a harbour in safety.

The _Ruby_ had arrived with the rest of the fleet at Spithead.  The
seamen treated their prisoners with the greatest kindness and humanity;
and even Paul Pringle declared that the Jean Crapauds were not after all
such bad fellows, if you got them by themselves to talk to quietly.

Young Renaudin, the son of the brave Captain of the _Vengeur_, during
their ten days' passage home, became a great pet among the officers and
midshipmen.  Still his spirits were very low, and he was very
despondent, believing that his father was lost to him for ever.  He had
especially attached himself to Sir Henry Elmore and Johnny Nott, who,
remembering their own preservation from foundering, had a fellow-feeling
for him, and more especially looked after all his wants, while True Blue
was appointed to attend on him.

The day after their arrival, Sir Henry got leave to go on shore and take
their young prisoner, as well as Nott and True Blue, with him.  Scarcely
had they touched the point, than the boy sprang from the boat, and,
breathless with excitement, rushed into the arms of a gentleman who had
just landed with some English officers.

"_Mon pere! mon pere_!" exclaimed the boy.

"_Mon fils_! _mon fils_!" cried the gentleman, enclosing him in his arms
and bursting into tears.

It was the gallant Captain of the _Vengeur_.

"Next to winning the battle, I would sooner have seen that meeting
between the brave French Captain and his son than anything else I know
of!" exclaimed True Blue as he recounted the adventure to Tim Fid, Harry
Hartland, and other messmates on board the _Ruby_.



CHAPTER TWENTY.

A considerable time had passed after that celebrated 1st of June, and
the French had learned to suspect who were to be the masters at sea,
whatever they might have thought of their own powers on shore, when a
fine new corvette of eighteen guns, the _Gannet_, was standing across
the British Channel on a cruise.  Her master and commander was Captain
Brine, long first lieutenant of the _Ruby_.  Her first lieutenant was a
very gallant officer, Mr Digby; and her second was Sir Henry Elmore,
who was glad to go to sea again with his old friend Captain Brine.  She
had a boatswain, who had not long received his warrant for that rank,
Paul Pringle by name; her gunner was Peter Ogle, and her carpenter Abel
Bush; while one of her youngest though most active A.B.s was Billy True
Blue Freeborn.  She had a black cook too.  He was not a very good one;
but he played the fiddle, and that was considered to make amends for his
want of skill.

"For why," he used to remark, "if my duff hard, I fiddle much; you dance
de more, and den de duff go down--what more you want?"

True Blue's three godfathers had resolved to become warrant-officers if
they could, and all had studied hard to pass their examinations, which
they did in a very satisfactory way.

Their example was not lost upon True Blue.  "I have never been sorry
that I am not on the quarterdeck," said he one day to Paul.  "But,
godfather, I shall be if I cannot become a boatswain.  That's what I am
fitted for, and that's what my father would have wished me to be, I'm
sure."

"That he would, Billy," answered Paul.  "You see a boatswain's an
officer and wears a uniform; and he's a seaman, too, so to speak, and
that's what your father wished you to be; and I'll tell you what,
godson, if some of these days, when you're old enough, you becomes a
boatswain, and when the war's over you goes on shore and marries Mary
Ogle, so that you'll have a home of your own when I am under hatches,
that's all I wishes for you.  It's the happiest lot for any man--a good
wife, a snug little cottage, a garden to dig in, with a summer-house to
smoke your pipe in, and maybe a berth in the dockyard, just to keep you
employed and your legs going, is all a man like you or me can want for,
and that is what I hope you may get."

Some young men would have turned the matter off with a laugh, but True
Blue replied, "Ay, godfather, there isn't such a girl between the North
Foreland and the Land's End so good and so pretty to my mind as Mary
Ogle; and that I'll maintain, let others say what they will."

"True, boy, true!" cried Paul, slapping him affectionately on the
shoulder.  "You are right about Mary; and when a lad does like a girl,
it's pleasant to see that he really does like her right heartily and
honestly, and isn't ashamed of saying so."

The _Gannet_ had altogether a picked crew, and Captain Brine was on the
lookout to give them every opportunity of distinguishing themselves.
There were, to be sure, some not quite equal to the rest.  Tim Fid and
Harry Hartland had joined with True Blue, and poor Gregory Gipples had
managed still to hang on in the service, though, as his messmates
observed, he was more suited to sweep the decks than to set the Thames
on fire.

As yet the saucy little _Gannet_, as her crew delighted to call her, had
done nothing particularly to boast of, except capturing and burning a
few _chasse-marees_, looking into various holes and corners of the
French coast, exchanging shots with small batteries here and there, and
keeping the French coastguard in a very lively and active condition,
never knowing when they might receive a nine-pound round-shot in the
middle of one of their lookout towers, or be otherwise disturbed in
their nocturnal slumbers.

Captain Brine was up the coast and down the coast in every direction;
and if he could manage to appear at a point where the wind was least
likely to allow him to be, by dint of slashing at it in the offing
against a head wind, or by creeping in shore with short tacks, he was
always more pleased and satisfied, and so were his crew.

The wind was north-east, the ship's head was south; it was in the month
of March, and the weather not over balmy.

"A sail on the weather bow!" cried the lookout from the masthead.

"What is she like?" asked the second lieutenant, who had charge of the
deck.

"She looms large, sir," was the answer.

The information was notified to the Captain, who was on deck in an
instant.

Whether the stranger was friend or foe was the next question to be
ascertained.  Doubts were expressed as to that point both fore and aft.
She was a frigate, that was very certain; still, without trying her with
the private signal, Captain Brine did not like to haul his wind and make
sail away from her.  The nearer she drew, the more French she looked.
Eighteen guns to thirty-eight or forty, which probably the stranger
carried, was a greater disproportion than even the gallant Brine was
inclined to encounter.  All hands stood ready to make sail at an
instant's notice.

At length the two ships drew almost near enough to exchange signals.
"That ship is French, depend on it, sir!" exclaimed the first lieutenant
to the Captain.

"I am not quite so certain of that, Digby," answered Captain Brine.
"But if she is not an enemy, she is the _Diamond_ frigate, commanded by
Sir Sydney Smith.  He has a wonderful knack of disguising his ship.  I
have known him to deceive the French themselves, and quietly to sail
under a battery, look into a port, and be out again before he was
suspected.  He delights in such sort of work, and is not over bashful in
describing afterwards what he has done.  We shall soon, however,
ascertain the truth.  Try the stranger now with our private signals."

The flags were run up, and in a short time Sir Henry exclaimed, "You are
right, sir!  She replies, and makes the _Diamond's_ number.  There is
another signal now.  Sir Sydney orders us to close with him."

"I felt almost certain that it was the _Diamond_," said the Captain.
"Well, gentlemen, I have no doubt that we shall soon have some work to
do."

As soon as the corvette got within a short distance of the frigate, she
hove to; and a boat being lowered, Captain Brine went on board to pay
his respects to his superior officer.  He, however, speedily returned.

"Sir Sydney proposes a cruise round the French coast together, which
accords with our instructions," he said, addressing his two lieutenants,
and the news soon spread through the ship.

Away the frigate and corvette sailed together, and soon fell in with a
large lugger, to which they gave chase; but she turned out to be the
_Aristocrat_, a hired vessel, fitted out by Government, and commanded by
Lieutenant Gossett.  Sir Sydney rubbed his hands.

"We could not be better off!" he exclaimed.  "The _Lion_, _Wolf_, and
_Jackal_ all hunting in company."

Not many days had passed before a fleet of vessels was espied under the
land, and evidently French.  One was made out to be a corvette, and the
others brigs, schooners, and luggers, which she was apparently
convoying.  Chase was instantly given, and the strangers made all sail
to escape.

Away they went, close in with the shore, just as a herd of oxen run
along a hedge looking for an opening into which to escape.  At length
the water shoaled so much that the frigate had to haul off.  The
corvette stood on a little longer, and had to do the same; while the
lugger, running on still farther, signalled that all the enemy had run
into a harbour under some high land which appeared to be surmounted with
batteries.

Sir Sydney on this called the other two vessels near to him, and
informed their commanders that he knew the place, and that he intended
surveying the entrance, which he believed was deep enough for the
frigate herself.  The frigate and her consorts then stood off till the
approach of evening, as if giving up the pursuit.  As soon, however as
it was dark, they once more approached the land.

All the night Sir Sydney and his lieutenants, and Captain Brine and his,
were busily sounding the channel; but before daybreak the little
squadron was too far from the land to seen from it.  A favourable breeze
carried them back, and without hesitating, they stood boldly on towards
the mouth of the port.  The entrance to it was guarded by two batteries
one beyond the other, on the left hand, and by several guns posted on a
commanding point which it was necessary to round before the harbour
could be entered.  For the forts Sir Sydney was prepared, as he knew of
their existence; and he had directed four of his own boats, with three
from the corvette and one from the lugger, to attack and carry them in
succession.

Mr Digby, from a wound in his right arm, which prevented him from using
it, was unable to go; and so Sir Henry Elmore had command of the
_Gannet's_ boats, and True Blue went in his boat as his coxswain, Mr
Nott, now a mate, accompanying him.  Paul Pringle, the boatswain, had
command of another boat, and a mate and midshipman of the _Gannet_ had
charge of the other two.  The whole expedition was under the command of
the first lieutenant of the frigate, who was accompanied by a lieutenant
and the marines of the two ships.  As soon as the frigate and corvette
got within range of the guns on the point, the latter opened a hot fire
on them; but so well did the ships ply theirs in return as they passed
that the gunners were speedily driven from them.

On rounding the point, however, the vessels became exposed to a severe
fire from the two batteries.  A considerable tide was running out, and
Sir Sydney saw, as he expected, that the ships might suffer a severe
loss before they could be passed, unless the batteries could be
silenced.  The order was therefore given for the boats to be lowered,
and instantly to shove off.  Away they dashed with loud cheers.  The
French troops, not expecting such a mode of attack, hurried down from
their batteries to oppose them on the beach.  This was just what Sir
Sydney wished, as it enabled the ships to creep up without being fired
at.

The boats, as they advanced, were so warmly received by the troops on
the beach that they could not effect a landing at the spot proposed.
True Blue's quick eye, however, observed what he thought looked like a
landing-place, close under the nearest fort.  He pointed it out to Sir
Henry, who, calling the boats nearest to him to follow, dashed on
towards it.  The first lieutenant of the _Diamond_ meantime so entirely
kept the troops on the beach employed, that no one saw what was
occurring.

In another minute Sir Henry and his followers were on shore.  True Blue
was next to him, carrying the flag.  A rocky height, almost a precipice,
had to be climbed to reach the fort.  Up they all went at once, like
goats, making violent springs, or climbing up with hands and knees.
True Blue was one of the first, helping up Sir Henry, whose strength was
often not equal to his spirit.

When the English were half way up, the French caught sight of them, and
now the whole body hurried along the road to regain the fort.  It was a
desperate race between the two parties.  The English had a short but
rugged height to scale, the French a longer but smoother path to
traverse.  The frigate's boats however, by a well-directed fire,
assisted to impede their progress, and to thin their numbers as they
went.  On sprang the daring seamen.  True Blue was the first over the
parapet and into the fort.  Sir Henry followed close to him.  The French
were almost at the gate, which was left open.

"Here, Freeborn!" he exclaimed; "this gun, slew it round and give it to
them.  It is loaded and primed--see!"

The gun which Sir Henry touched was a field-piece, evidently brought for
the occasion into the fort.  Several seamen assembling, the gun was
instantly got round, and as the leading body of French appeared, True
Blue pointing it, fired it directly in their faces; then with a loud
shout drawing his cutlass, he and Sir Henry rushed furiously at them,
followed by most of the men.  So unexpected was the assault that the
leading files gave way, and, pressing on the others, hurried down the
narrow path.  Sir Henry calling back his companions, they re-entered the
fort.

The gate was then shut, lest the enemy should return, and all the guns
were immediately spiked.  The commander of the expedition, and the
lieutenant of marines and his men, had in the meantime come round and
gained the height, in spite of a heavy flank fire from the French.
Several of the guns were now, besides being spiked, tumbled down the
precipice, and a considerable amount of destruction effected in the
fort.

The French, however, were now collecting in stronger force, and the work
on which the party were sent being accomplished, a return to the ships
became necessary.  The officer in command, seeing that, if they
attempted to return by the steep way they ascended, they might be shot
down in detail, resolved to make a bold dash and cut his way back to the
boats, which had been compelled to return under shelter of the ships.
The plan suited the spirits of the men.  The gate was thrown open.  Out
of the fort they dashed, and down the hill at a double quick march.
They had not got far before they encountered a large body of French, who
attempted to oppose them; but the enemy, though double their number,
could no more withstand their headlong charge than does the wooden
village the force of the avalanche.  Down before them went the
Frenchmen, scattered right and left; but some got up, and others came
on, and the English found themselves nearly surrounded, while a
considerable body, remaining at a distance, kept up a hot and galling
fire, which brought down several of the bold invaders.

Pistols were flashing, cutlasses were clashing, and the marines were
charging here and there with their bayonets, keeping the French back
while they retired towards the water, when another large body of French
was seen coming over the hill.  Their friends below saw them also, and
now all uniting made a furious onslaught on the French.

"Charge them, my lads, and drive them back, or they will not let us
embark quietly!" shouted the _Diamond's_ lieutenant.

Sir Henry Elmore with a number of followers, carried on by his ardour,
went farther than was necessary, when a shot from a distance brought him
to the ground.

At that moment the retreat was sounded, for the fresh body of French was
coming on.  True Blue had two stout Frenchmen to attend to, and had just
disabled one and driven the other back when he saw what had occurred.
Sir Henry's followers were almost overpowered and retreating.  True Blue
saw that he would be made prisoner or killed, and that not a moment
should be lost if he was to be rescued.  "Back lads, and help our
officer!" he shouted, springing desperately onward.

Several of the corvette's crew, headed by Tom Marline, followed him, Tom
shouting, "Hurrah, lads, hurrah!  We mustn't let our True Blue be made
prisoner."

The French, who had already had a sufficient taste of the English
seamen's quality, hurriedly retreated for a few yards, keeping up,
however, a galling fire.  They then waited till the reinforcement came
up, and left Elmore unmolested.  This gave time to True Blue to spring
forward and lift him in his arms, and to run back with him through
showers of bullets among his shipmates before the enemy could recover
their prisoner.

Sir Henry, though suffering great pain, was perfectly conscious.
"Thanks, my brave friend--thanks Freeborn!" he exclaimed; "you've again
saved me from worse than death.  But now, my lads, back to our boats; we
shall do nothing now, I fear."

The boats only just then reached the beach, and True Blue had but bare
time to spring with his charge into the first, which proved to be their
own, when the French troops came charging down upon them.  The last man
to leave the beach was the officer of marines, who, like a true soldier,
retreated with his face to the foe amidst thick showers of bullets.  He
had just stepped into one of the boats, when he fell back into the arms
of the Captain with a cry, shot through the body.  He was lifted up and
placed in the sternsheets.

"Shove off! shove off!" cried the officer.

The sailors shoved away with their oars, while the marines stood up with
their muskets, returning the fire of the enemy, desirous to punish them
for the loss of their officer.  One marine and two seamen had fallen,
and several men were wounded.  In another minute they would with
difficulty have got off, for, in the rear of the reinforcement, there
came rattling along two small field-pieces.

The boats were afloat, the men pulled away with all their might and were
soon on board the ships.  True Blue would allow no one but himself to
carry the young lieutenant below to his cabin.  Of course he had to
return to his duty on deck, for there was hot work going on; but he
stood anxiously waiting till he could hear the surgeon's report.

"Ah, mates!" he said to Fid and Hartland, and other friends stationed
near him, "if you had seen, as I have, young Sir Henry at home, and how
her ladyship, his mother, and sisters loved him and made much of him,
you would understand what a killing blow it would be to them if they
heard that he was dead or even hurt.  I'd rather lose my own right arm
any day, and my life too, than have them hear such a tale."

As soon as the boats returned, the fire from the frigate and corvette
knocked over the two field-pieces and several of the men who served
them, and the ships then proceeded up the harbour.  The French troops,
as they did so, followed them along the shore, keeping, however, as well
as they could, concealed behind the inequalities of the ground, and only
occasionally halting and firing rapid volleys at them.

The corvette, and several brigs and schooners, and three armed luggers,
were soon seen either at anchor close to the beach or on shore.  The
frigate could not venture to close with them, but the gallant little
_Gannet_, with the lead going, stood on till she had scarcely a foot of
water under her keel, and then, dropping an anchor with a spring to the
cable, so as to keep her broadside to the corvette, opened her fire.

The Frenchmen replied briskly enough at first; but as they occasionally
got a dose from the frigate's long guns, they gradually slackened in
their efforts to defend their ships, and finally were seen taking to
their boats and escaping on shore.  Mr Nott instantly volunteered to
board and set fire to the corvette.  He beckoned to True Blue, who flew
to the boats, which had been kept ready on the side of the ship away
from the shore.  Within a minute, two boats were pulling under a hot
fire towards the French ship.  True Blue and his companions speedily
climbed through her ports both fore and aft.  They had brought abundance
of combustibles.  These were instantly carried below, and, the most
inflammable materials being thrown together in piles along her lower
deck, were set on fire.  The thick wreaths of smoke which ascended
assisted to conceal the party in their rapid retreat, the more rapid as
they could not tell at what moment a spark might enter the magazine and
blow them all into the air.

Back they pulled, and were on board the _Gannet_ once more, within five
minutes after they had left her side, not a man having been hurt, and
the work so thoroughly accomplished that the corvette was in a furious
blaze fore and aft, the flames already licking the heels of her topmasts
in their upward ascent.

All this time, the frigate astern and the lugger ahead of the _Gannet_
were keeping up a warm fire on the shore, to hold the troops in check.
They wisely concealed themselves when no boats appeared; but as the
various merchantmen, one after the other, were attacked by the boats of
the squadron, they sallied bravely out, and endeavoured to drive back
their assailants.  In vain, however, they made the attempt; the British
seamen persevered, and before the evening every vessel in the harbour
was destroyed.

Not a moment had honest True Blue been idle, from the time that the
boats had been first sent away till dark; nor had he had an opportunity
of inquiring after the second lieutenant.  At length the surgeon came on
deck to take a breath of fresh air.  True Blue stepped up to him, and,
touching his hat, inquired after Sir Henry.

"Hurt very badly, my lad," answered the surgeon, "and, I am very much
afraid, will slip through our fingers; but do not let that vex you.  He
has told me of the gallant way in which you brought him off from the
enemy; and his great anxiety seems to be, that your interest should be
cared for--that you should be rewarded."

"Rewarded, sir!" exclaimed True Blue in a tone of indignation and
sorrow.  "Oh, sir, I don't want any reward.  Sir Henry knows that I
would go through fire and water to serve him, that I would sooner have
lost my own right arm or my life than that he should be hurt.  Do tell
him, sir, that I am unhappy when I hear about a reward.  I shall be
joyful, indeed, if he gets round again, and be able to go to his duty."

"All right, my lad, I will tell him; and I hope he may recover, and
settle the matter with you in your own way."

"I hope so, sir--I hope so," said True Blue; but he felt very sad about
what he had heard.

This conversation took place during a short cessation of firing, when,
for some reason not ascertained, the French troops retreated.  They now
came back with more field-pieces, and opened on the ships.  Happily the
ebb just then made, and a light breeze sprang up and blew down the
harbour.  A fire was kept up from the ships, however, all the time,
while their anchors were weighed, and their topsails being sheeted home,
they stood out of the harbour.  Still the shot followed them.  They had
got some way when True Blue felt himself struck to the deck.  He lay
some little time before being observed in the dark, and then he was
carried below.  He knew no more, till he heard a voice in a tone of deep
grief saying, "Oh, doctor, is he killed?"

It was that of Paul Pringle.

"I hope not, boatswain," was the answer.  "I have extracted the bullet,
which was pretty deep in; and I trust he may do well."



CHAPTER TWENTY ONE.

As True Blue lay wounded in his hammock, he made daily, almost hourly,
inquiries after Sir Henry; and nothing seemed to expedite his own
recovery so much as hearing that the lieutenant was considered out of
danger.

The _Gannet_ still continued in company with the _Diamond_, and True
Blue's chief unhappiness arose at not being allowed to join the various
cutting-out expeditions in which the crews of the two ships were
engaged.

At length, by the time that they once more stood up channel, both Sir
Henry and True Blue were sufficiently recovered to go on deck, the
lieutenant being almost fit to do some duty, though the latter was not
allowed to exert himself.

Sir Sydney had invited the young lieutenant to spend a day or two on
board the frigate, as he said, for change of air; and Sir Henry got
leave for True Blue to accompany him, for the purpose, in reality, of
making him known to one who, brave himself, could so well appreciate
bravery in others, and who, if he had the will, would probably have the
means of forwarding the young seaman's interests.

Soon after this, in a thick fog, the frigate parted company with the
corvette.  The _Diamond_ had taken a number of prizes, and sent them
away under the command of various officers, so that she had very few
left.  Sir Sydney had intended to go the next day into Portsmouth to
pick them up, when he fell in with a schooner making for the French
coast, which turned out to be a prize to a French privateer lugger, the
_Vengeur_, known to have taken a number of prizes.

From the prisoners, Sir Sydney learned that she had the character of
being very fast, that she was armed with ten nine-pounders, that her
commander was a very enterprising character himself, and that she had
been in vain chased on several occasions by British cruisers.

"Then we must put a stop to this gentleman's proceedings!" exclaimed Sir
Sydney.  "We may not gain much glory, but we shall be doing good service
to the commerce of our country; and that, after all, is our duty, and I
take it we could not be engaged in more honourable work than in the
performance of our duty."

"Certainly not, sir," warmly responded the young lieutenant, his guest;
"and, if you will give me leave, I will accompany you.  I am quite able
to endure fatigue, and will take my young shipmate, True Blue Freeborn,
with me, of whom I spoke to you--a gallant fellow, who has twice saved
my life."

Sir Sydney, who delighted in the sort of spirit exhibited by the young
lieutenant, at once acceded to his wishes, and arranged that he should
have charge of one of the boats.  The frigate stood in, and soon
discovered the lugger at anchor in the outer roads.  The first
lieutenant was on shore in England, the second was very ill, and the
third lay in his berth severely wounded; so Sir Sydney gave notice that
he himself would take command of the expedition.

The information was received with infinite satisfaction on board,
because, in the first place, it seemed certain that there was some
dashing work to be done; and, in the second, it was believed that, in
whatever the Captain engaged, he succeeded.  The necessary preparations
were rapidly carried out.  An eighteen-pounder carronade was mounted in
the frigate launch, and her crew were also armed with muskets; three
other boats were armed with smaller guns on swivels, and muskets; and
one with muskets only--a wherry, pulling two oars.

Everything was ready by ten o'clock at night, when Sir Sydney Smith
pushed off from the frigate, taking the lead of the other boats in his
wherry.  In perfect silence they pulled away, till through the darkness
they perceived the lugger ahead of them.  The crews now lay on their
oars, while their Captain, in a clear, distinct voice, issued his
definite orders.

"Understand, my lads, we must not alarm the enemy sooner than we can
help.  Give her a wide berth, therefore, and get between her and the
shore, so that those on board, if they see us, may fancy that we are
fishing-boats dropping out of the harbour.  Then pull directly for the
lugger, and be on board her as soon as possible."

No further words were spoken.  When they had got to the position
indicated, no apparent notice was taken of them, and they hoped to get
close alongside undiscovered.

"Pass the word along to the men to reserve their fire till the Frenchmen
open theirs," said the Captain, who continued ahead.  "Now, my lads,
pull straight for her."

Away dashed the boats as fast as their crews could urge them.  The
Frenchmen were all asleep, or the watch on deck had not made them out.
When, however, about a musket-shot off, lights were seen, and there was
a considerable bustle on deck, and hallooing and shouting.  On they
dashed; they had got within half pistol-shot of the lugger, when a
volley was let fly amongst them.  As usual, the dose, instead of
checking their progress, only stimulated them to greater exertions.  The
marines and small-arm men returned the fire in right good earnest, while
the boats advanced more rapidly than before.

The Frenchmen had been taken by surprise: they had barely time to load
their guns.  As they had not pointed them precisely, most of their shot
flew over the heads of their opponents, and there had been no time to
trice up the boarding nettings.  The British were therefore soon
alongside; a fierce hand-to-hand conflict commenced with pistols,
boarding-pikes, and cutlasses, and the gallant assailants began to climb
over her low bulwarks and furiously to attack the enemy with cutlass and
pistol.  The French crew, though far outnumbering the British, could not
withstand the desperate onslaught.

Sir Sydney Smith was one of the first on board.  True Blue, cutlass in
hand, leaped over the bulwarks at the same moment from another boat,
with Sir Henry Elmore.  There was a rapid mingling of shouts and cheers
and cries, and rattling of musketry, and the crack of pistols and
clashing of cutlasses and then the privateer's men gave way, leaped down
below, and cried for quarter.  It was given, and the prisoners were at
once secured.

Scarcely was this done, when True Blue, who was forward, discovered that
the cable was cut, and that the vessel was drifting with the tide, now
making strong up the river, rapidly towards the shore.  He reported this
to Sir Sydney, who instantly ordered the boats to go ahead and tow her
away.  Meantime, search was made for an anchor to hold the vessel
against the tide making up the Seine, every instant apparently
increasing in strength.

"Here's a small kedge, sir!" cried True Blue, who, one of the most
active, was searching away in the forehold.  "It will be of little
service, I fear, though."

"Get it bent on.  We will try what our canvas will do first," answered
the Captain.

Every stitch of sail the lugger could carry was set on her; but still
the breeze refused to blow with sufficient strength to enable her to
stem the tide, even with all the boats towing ahead.  The kedge was
therefore let go, but though it somewhat stopped her way, still she
dragged it rapidly on.  Higher and higher she drifted up the Seine, till
at length she brought up off Harfleur, on the northern bank of the
river, two miles above Havre.

It seemed as if nothing more could now be done.

"I ought to return to the frigate," said the Captain, "Sir Henry, you
will accompany me.  Mr Wright, you will get under weigh the instant the
tide slackens or a breeze springs up, and run out to us."

Sir Henry begged that he might remain on board the lugger and share the
risk with the rest, though it was not without considerable reluctance
that Sir Sydney consented to leave him.  Sir Sydney then pulled off in
his small boat for the frigate.

Daylight was now coming on, and by its means several boats were seen
coming down the Seine, evidently with the intention of trying to
recapture the _Vengeur_.  At the same time, however, a small boat was
observed approaching from the frigate, and soon afterwards Sir Sydney
Smith himself stepped on board.

"My lads," he said, "I believe that we shall have to fight for our
prize, and I have returned to lend a hand in defending her.  However, we
have more boats and people than are required.  Sir Henry Elmore, I must
beg you to undertake the charge of landing the prisoners at Honfleur, on
the southern bank of the river, in the launch and pinnace, and then
return to the _Diamond_.  These are my orders.  We must first, however,
make the Frenchmen give us their parole not in any way to interfere in
whatever takes place.  I propose fighting the lugger under weigh, till
the breeze and ebb tide enable us to carry her out.  The tide will soon
make, and I hope to be alongside the frigate in an hour or little more."

Very unwillingly Sir Henry quitted his gallant chief and friend, taking,
of course, True Blue with him.

It was now broad daylight, and all the glasses of the frigate were
turned towards the _Vengeur_.  Another large lugger as big as herself
was seen approaching her.  She got under weigh, and a warm action began.

"She is giving it her!--she is giving it her!" shouted True Blue.  "Sir
Sydney will beat him, I am certain."

So it seemed probable by the gallant way in which the _Vengeur_ met her
approach.  The latter was soon seen to sheer off and drop up the river
again, evidently having had fighting enough.  Most anxiously a breeze
was looked-for.

Though victorious in this instance, the prize was even in a more
perilous position than before, having drifted still more up the river,
and numerous boats being seen in the distance approaching her.  Down
they came, their numbers rapidly increasing.  Now she opened her fire
right and left upon them.  They returned it with heavy discharges of
musketry, till she was completely surrounded by smoke, an evidence also
that she had no breeze to assist her in manoeuvring.

Farther and farther off she drifted, till, with hearts foreboding evil,
the spectators on board the _Diamond_ lost sight of her in the distance,
surrounded by smoke.  In vain they waited.  The day wore on; there was
not a sign of their gallant Captain and his brave followers, and at
length it became too certain that they must have been taken prisoners by
the French.

A strong breeze now sprang up.  After waiting off the port all the
night, the _Diamond_ ran across the Channel, and anchored at Spithead,
with the intelligence of Sir Sydney Smith's capture.  The _Gannet_ had
not yet appeared, and True Blue, as well as Sir Henry, began to be
anxious, fearing that some mishap might have befallen her.

Two days passed by.  On the third, True Blue was looking out to the
south-east, when he espied two ships standing in towards the anchorage.
He looked and looked again.  One was, he thought, and yet doubted, the
_Gannet_, so different did she look to the trim and gallant little ship
she had but lately been; the other was a craft much of her size, with
the English ensign flying over the tricolour of France.  The first soon
made her number, and left no doubt as to her being the _Gannet_.

An action, and a well-fought one, had evidently taken place, and the
corvette had brought in her captured prize; but then came the question,
who among shipmates and friends had suffered?  True Blue could not help
thinking of Paul Pringle, whom he loved with an affection which could
not have been surpassed had Paul been his father, and Peter Ogle, and
Abel Bush, and his own messmates.  Had any of them been killed or hurt?

He knew that Sir Henry, who had remained doing duty on board the
_Diamond_, would feel somewhat as he did; so he went to him, and Sir
Henry gratified him by saying that he would at once make arrangements
for returning to the corvette the instant she anchored.  A boat was got
ready, and away they pulled for her.  They were on board almost as soon
as the anchor was dropped.

True Blue glanced eagerly forward.  Paul Pringle was on the forecastle,
call in mouth, issuing the necessary orders for furling sails.  Peter
Ogle was not to be seen, nor was Abel Bush, but they might be about some
duty below; nor were Tim Fid nor Gregory Gipples visible, though they
ought to have been on deck.

Having reported himself as come on board with Sir Henry to the first
lieutenant, who was near the gangway, he dived below.  Numerous hammocks
slung up forward showed that there were many sick or wounded, while
groups of Frenchmen, with sentries over them, proved that a prize had
been taken.

He first hurried to the gunner's cabin.  The door was closed--he
knocked--there was no answer--his heart sank within him--his thoughts
flew to Mary and her mother.  Could Peter Ogle be among the killed in
the late action?  He dared not ask; he opened the door and looked in.
The cabin was empty.  He went next to that of Abel Bush.

"Come in," said the carpenter in a weak voice, very unlike his usual
sturdy bass.  "True Blue, is it you, my lad?  Right glad to see you!" he
exclaimed in a more cheerful tone.  "Well, we have had a warm brush.
Only sorry you were not with us; but we took her, as you see, though we
had a hard struggle for it.  Do you know, Billy, these Frenchmen do
fight well sometimes.  They've given me an ugly knock in the ribs; but
the doctor says I shall be all to rights soon, so no matter.  I don't
want to be laid up in ordinary yet.  Time enough when I am as old as
Lord Howe.  He keeps afloat; so may I for twenty years to come yet, I
hope."

Thus he ran on.  He was evidently feverish from his wound.

"But oh, Abel, where is Peter Ogle?" exclaimed True Blue, interrupting
him at length.

"Peter?--oh, aboard the prize!" answered Abel.  "Where did you think he
was?"

"All right," replied True Blue.

In the evening, both ships went into the harbour to be refitted, an
operation which, from the battered condition of the corvette and her
prize, would evidently take some time.

Scarcely was the ship moored, when Sir Henry sent for True Blue, and
told him that, on account of his having been wounded, he had obtained
leave for him to have a run on shore, and that if he liked he would take
him up to London with him, and let him see more of the wonders of the
great metropolis.

The colour came to the young sailor's cheeks.  "Thank you, Sir Henry--
thank you," he answered; "but to be honest, I'd as lief go to my friends
at Emsworth, you see, sir.  They know me, and I know them; and though I
should like to see her ladyship and the young ladies,--indeed I
should,--there's Mary Ogle, Peter Ogle's daughter; and the truth is,
we've come to understand each other, and talk of splicing one of these
days, when I'm a bo'sun perhaps, or maybe before that.  If you saw Mary,
sir, I'm sure you wouldn't be offended at my wishing to go down there
rather than go up to big London with you, sir.  But you'll give, I hope,
my dutiful respect to your mother, sir, and the young ladies, and tell
them it's not for want of love and duty to them that I don't come."

"I am sure that they will think everything right of you, Freeborn,"
answered the young baronet, struck by True Blue's truthful frankness.
"But instead of being a boatswain, why not aim at being placed, as I
long ago wished, on the quarterdeck?  Surely it would please your Mary
more, and I daresay my friends would accomplish it for you."

"Thank you, Sir Henry--thank you.  I've thought the matter over scores
of times, and never thought differently," answered True Blue with a
thoughtful look.  "And do you know, sir, I'm sure that Mary wouldn't
love me a bit the more because I was a Captain, than she does now, or
than she will when I am a bo'sun.  She isn't a lady, and doesn't set up
for a lady; and why should she?  I couldn't love her a bit the more than
I now do if she did.  You see, Sir Henry, she's a right true honest good
girl, and what more can a man like me want in the world to make him
happy?"

"You are right, Freeborn--you are right!" exclaimed the young baronet,
springing up and taking his friend's hand; "and I wish you every
happiness your Mary can give you.  Remember, too, if I am in England,
invite me to your wedding, and I'll do my utmost to come to it.  I have
not often been at a wedding, and never thought of marrying; but I am
very sure that somehow or other you will set me on the right course, by
the pleasure I shall experience on that occasion."

The next day, while Sir Henry went up to London, True Blue started off
by himself to Emsworth, his godfather having too much to do in refitting
the ship to be spared away from her.  He had not given notice that he
was coming, and the cry of pleasure with which he was received when his
smiling countenance appeared at Peter Ogle's cottage door showed him
that he might depend on a hearty welcome.

A fair girl, with the sweetest of faces, rose from her seat, and,
running towards him, put out both her hands, and did not seem
overwhelmed with astonishment when he threw an arm round her waist and
kissed her heartily.

"Hillo, Master True Blue, are those the manners you have learned at
sea?" exclaimed Mrs Ogle, not very angrily, though.

"Yes, mother," answered Billy, laughing, and still holding Mary by the
hand and looking into her face.  "It's the way I behaved scores of times
whenever I've thought of the only girl I ever loved; and now, though I
didn't intend to do it, I couldn't help it--indeed I couldn't.  I hope
you'll forgive me, Mrs Ogle, if Mary does."

"Well, Billy, as my goodman has known you since you were a baby, and
I've known you nearly as long, I suppose I must overlook it this time,"
answered Mrs Ogle.  "And now tell me, how is my husband, and Pringle,
and the rest?"

"Ogle and Pringle are very well; but Abel Bush has had an ugly knock on
his side.  It will grieve poor Mrs Bush, I know, when I tell her.
He'll be here as soon as he is out of hospital; but he wants to be
aboard again when the ship is ready for sea."

Good Mrs Ogle, on hearing this, said that she would go in and prepare
her neighbour for the news of Abel being wounded; and after she had done
so, True Blue went and told her all the particulars, and comforted her
to the best of his power; and then he hurried off to see old Mrs
Pringle, who forgave him for not coming first to her, which he ought to
have done.

The hours of True Blue's short stay flew quickly by--quicker by far than
he wished.  Never had the country to his eyes looked so beautiful, the
meadows so green, the woods so fresh, and the flowers so bright; never
had the birds seemed to sing so sweetly; and never had he watched with
so much pleasure the sheep feeding on the distant downs, or the cattle
come trooping in to their homesteads in the evening.

"After all, Mary," he said, "I really do think there are more things on
shore worth looking at than I once fancied.  Once I used to think that
the sea was the only place fit for a man to live on, and now, though I
don't like it less than I did, I do love the look of this place at all
events."

Mary smiled.  They were sitting on a mossy bank on the hillside, with
green fields before them and a wood on the right, in which the leaves
were bursting forth fresh and bright, and a wide piece of water some
hundred yards below, in which several wild fowl were dipping their
wings; while beyond rose a range of smooth downs, the intermediate space
being sprinkled over with neat farmhouses and labourers' cottages; and
rising above the trees appeared the grey, ivy-covered tower of the
parish church, with the taper spire pointing upwards to the clear blue
sky--not more clear or bright, though, than his Mary's eyes; so True
Blue thought, whether he said it or not.

"Yes," said Mary; "I am sure, True Blue, when you come to know more of
dear Old England, you'll love it as I do."

"I love it now, Mary--that I do, and everything in it for your sake,
Mary, and its own sake!" exclaimed True Blue enthusiastically.  "I used
to think only of fighting for the King, God bless him; but now, though I
won't fight the less for him than I did, I'll fight for Old England, and
for you too, Mary; and not the worse either, because I shall be thinking
of you, and of how I shall hope some day to come and live on shore with
you, and perhaps go no more to sea."

Mary returned the pressure of his honest hand, and in the wide realms of
England no two people were happier than they were; for they were
faithful, guileless, and true, honest and virtuous, and no shadow cast
by a thought of future misfortune crossed their path.

Thus the days sped on.  Then a letter came from Sir Henry, saying that
he had obtained another fortnight's leave for True Blue; and the
different families looked forward to a visit from the three
warrant-officers of the _Gannet_, and felt how proud they should be at
seeing them in their uniforms.  Abel Bush was so far recovered that he
was expected in a day or two.

Such was the state of affairs, when one evening True Blue heard that an
old shipmate of his in the _Ruby_ was ill at a little public-house about
three miles off, nearer the sea; so he at once set off to visit him,
intending to bring him up to Mrs Pringle's, if he was able to be
removed, for he was a favourite and friend of Paul's.

When he got there, he found a good many men in the house, mostly seamen,
drinking and smoking in the bar.  However, he passed on, and went up
into the room where his old shipmate was in bed.  He sat talking to him
for some time, and then he gave him Mrs Pringle's message, and told him
that, as she had a spare room, he must come up there and stay till he
was well.  He had arranged to return with a cart the next morning, and
had bid his friend good-bye, when, as he was on his way down the dark
narrow stairs, he heard the door burst open, and a tremendous scuffle,
and shouts, and oaths, and cries, and tables and chairs and benches
upset, and blows rapidly dealt.

He had little doubt that a pressgang had broken into the house, and,
though they lawfully couldn't touch him, he instinctively hurried back
into his friend's room, knowing how unscrupulous many people, when thus
engaged, were, and that if they got hold of him he would have no little
difficulty in escaping from their clutches.

His friend, Ned Archer, thought the same.  "Here, Billy," he exclaimed,
"jump out of the window!  I will shut it after you, and you will be free
of these fellows."

There was not a moment to be lost.  True Blue threw open the casement,
and dropped to the ground.  It was a good height; but to an active lad
like him the fall was nothing, and he would have made no noise had not a
tin pan been set up against the wall.  He kicked it over, and, as he was
running off, he found himself collared by three stout fellows, drawn to
the spot by the clatter it made.

"You'll have to serve His Majesty, my lad--that's all; so be quiet,"
said one of the men, for True Blue very naturally could not help trying
to escape.

"I have served His Majesty long and faithfully, and hope before long to
be serving him again afloat," answered True Blue.  "But just hands off,
mates.  You've got hold of a wrong bird.  I belong to a sloop of war,
the _Gannet_, and am away from her on leave."

"A likely story, my lad," said the officer commanding the pressgang, who
just then came up.  "You are fair-spoken enough; but men with
protections don't jump out of windows and try to make off at the sight
of a pressgang.  Whether you've served His Majesty or not, you'll come
along with us and serve him now--that's all I've to say on the subject."

The officer would not listen to a word True Blue had to plead, but with
eight or nine other men, captured at the same time, he was forthwith
marched down in the direction of the Hamble river.

It was a long tramp, and True Blue often looked round for an opportunity
of escaping; but his captors were vigilant, and there seemed but little
chance of his getting away.  Never had he felt so anxious, and, as he
expressed his feelings, downhearted, not for himself,--he believed that
all would come right at last, as far as he was concerned,--but for those
he left behind him.  He thought how anxious and grieved Mary would be
when he did not return; and though he was aware that ultimately she
would ascertain that he had been carried off by a pressgang, he knew
that that would not mend matters much.

A boat was waiting for them in the Hamble creek; and the party pulled
on, till at daybreak they found themselves at the mouth of the
Southampton Water, on board an eighteen-gun brig.  The pressed men
looked very sulky and angry, and eyed the shore as if even then they
longed to jump overboard and swim for it; but the sentry, with his
musket, at the gangway was a strong hint that they would have other
dangers besides drowning to contend with should they attempt it.

True Blue, who disdained to shirk duty on any pretence, performed as
rapidly and well as he could what he was ordered to do; but at the same
time his heart was heavier, probably, than that of any one on board.
The officer who had captured him might or might not believe his
assertion that he belonged to another ship.  He had not his papers with
him, and he had been caught trying to escape from the pressgang.  The
Captain of the brig was on shore, and was to be taken on board at
Plymouth, where she was to call in for him.

"Where are we bound for?" asked True Blue of one of his new shipmates.

"Don't you know, lad?" answered the man with a laugh which sounded harsh
and cruel in his ears.  "Why, out to the East Indies, to be sure--that's
the land, I've heard, of gold and silver and jewels.  We shall all come
back with our pockets well lined with the rhino.  Lots of prize-money,
lad--that's the stuff we want.  No wonder our skipper is in a hurry to
be off.  We shan't drop anchor even in Plymouth Sound, but he'll post
down from London; and as soon as he sees us he'll be aboard, for I know
well that he will be eager to be off.  He's in as great a hurry to
finger the ingots as any of us."

This was very unpleasant information for True Blue.  He had no reason,
either, to doubt it.  As soon as the tide made, the brig got under
weigh, and, standing out of the river, ran down the Solent towards the
Needle Passage.

Had True Blue been on board his own ship, he would have been contented
enough, even though he had been bound for the East Indies; but to be
carried off among strangers, without an opportunity of communicating
with those he loved, was hard indeed to bear.  The brig had got down as
far as Berryhead, when it fell very nearly calm, and a thick fog came
on.  All night long the fog continued, and though it was not dark, all
objects beyond ten or twenty fathoms at most of the brig were rendered
invisible.  Her head, therefore, was put off shore, to avoid the risk of
running on it, and sail was reduced, so as merely to allow her to have
steerage way.

The breeze, however, got up a little with the sun, which was seen
endeavouring to pierce the mist; but for a long time the sun appeared to
strive in vain to accomplish that object.

At last the silvery mist was, as it were, torn asunder; and then,
running under all sail, and about to pass between the brig and the land,
appeared a large lugger.  The brig under reduced sail, seen through the
fog, looked probably more like a merchantman than a man-of-war.  The
lugger ran up the tricolour and fired a round-shot at the brig.

The first lieutenant, springing on deck with his trousers in one hand
and his coat in the other, ordered the brig to be put about, and then
all hands to make sail, and the guns to be cast loose and run out.  The
Frenchmen, before they discovered their mistake, had also tacked,--the
wind was from the southward,--and were standing back towards the brig;
but what was their astonishment, when, instead, of the thumping big
merchantman they had expected to make their easy prize, they saw a trim
man-of-war with nine guns looking down on them!

They at the same time had the full taste of the nine guns, and of a
volley of musketry also, to which they, however, in another minute,
responded in gallant style.  The brig was to windward.  The object of
her commanding officer was to jam the lugger up between her and the
land, so that she could not possibly escape.

The lugger's Captain, unwilling to be thus caught, hauled his tacks
aboard, and made a gallant attempt to cross the bows of the brig.  Her
helm, however, at that moment was put down, and a broadside fired right
into the lugger, one shot bringing down her mainyard, and another
knocking the mizen-mast over her side.  The escape of the Frenchmen was
now hopeless--they must either conquer or be captured.  They made a bold
attempt to win, by immediately running aboard the brig, before the
lugger had lost her way, and securing her with grappling-irons.

"Boarders, repel boarders!" shouted the first lieutenant of the brig.

Among the first to answer the call was True Blue.  Seizing a cutlass
from a heap brought on deck,--for there had been no time to buckle them
on,--he sprang to the spot where he Frenchmen were swarming on board.

"Drive them back, for the sake of Old England, our King, and the homes
we love!" he shouted, a dozen arming themselves as he had done, and
following him.

The officers in the same way seized what weapons they could lay hands
on, and met their desperate assailants.  In boarding, those who board,
if they can take their opponents by surprise, have greatly the
advantage.  The Frenchmen reckoned on this, and were not disappointed.
A strong party had made good their footing on the brig's deck, when the
first lieutenant, who was a powerful man, seizing a cutlass, with some
of the best of the crew, threw himself upon them.  So desperate was the
onslaught he made that none could withstand it.  The Frenchmen fired
their pistols, by which several of the English, who had not one loaded,
fell; and the gallant lieutenant was among others hit.  Still his wound
did not stop his progress.

The Frenchmen retreated inch by inch, throwing themselves over the
brig's bulwarks into their own vessel.  True Blue and his party had been
equally successful forward, and now not a Frenchman remained on the
brig's deck.  In another moment, he with his companions had leaped down
on that of the lugger, and, though the French far outnumbered the
British, drove them all abaft the foremast, where they found themselves
attacked by another portion of the brig's crew, headed by two of her
officers.

The first lieutenant had carried her aft, and the French, seeing that
all was lost, threw down their arms and cried out for quarter.  It was
instantly given, and in ten minutes from the time the first shot was
fired, the capture of the lugger was complete.

As True Blue looked along her decks, he thought he recognised her
appearance.  "Hurrah!" he shouted.  "Why, she's the very craft, the
_Vengeur_, we took in the Seine."

So she proved.  From one of the prisoners, who spoke English, True Blue
learned that, soon after the boats had left her for the frigate, the
_Vengeur_ had been attacked by a large armed lugger, which, however, she
beat off; that then a number of boats with soldiers in them surrounded
her, and that, after a furious action had been carried on for some time,
chiefly with musketry, and numbers of the British had been killed or
wounded, Sir Sydney had yielded.

Between twenty or thirty officers and men only had been landed at Rouen,
the rest having fallen.  The greater number were imprisoned at Rouen;
but the French Government had considered Sir Sydney as a prisoner of
state, and, with his secretary and servant, he had been placed in the
tower of the Temple at Paris.

In the afternoon, the brig and her prize ran up Plymouth Sound; and as
she had killed and wounded and prisoners to land, and repairs to make
good, instead of sailing at once, as had been intended, she had to wait
several days.

True Blue's gallant conduct had been observed both by the first
lieutenant and the master, and when the Captain came on board it was
reported to him.

"I think I must know the man," he observed.  "A fine young fellow--an
old shipmate of mine in the _Ruby_."

True Blue was sent for.  The recognition was mutual.  He told his story,
and described also how he had been at the former capture of the
_Vengeur_.

"I do not doubt a word you say," said the Captain.  "Still, here you
are.  I am unwilling to lose you, and am not compelled to release you.
I will give you any rating you like to select in the ship."

"Thank you, sir, heartily," answered True Blue; "but I belong to the
_Gannet_, and have no right to desert her, and have all my best friends
aboard her.  I would rather be put ashore to join her as soon as I can."

"But I cannot take any man's word for such a statement," answered the
Captain.  "If it were known, I should have all the pressed men coming to
me with long yarns, which it might be difficult to disprove."

"Then, sir, perhaps you will take Sir Henry Elmore's word for it.  You
know his handwriting, I daresay.  I got this letter from him a few days
ago;" and True Blue handed in the note, somewhat crumpled, which the
young baronet had sent, saying that he had obtained longer leave for
him.

"That is sufficient warrant to me in allowing you to leave me, if we
fall in with the _Gannet_," observed the Captain, who was a man never
inclined, whether right or wrong, to yield a point.

True Blue felt that he was cruelly wronged; still he hated the notion of
running from the ship.  Others put it into his head, but he would not
accept it.  "No, I have been unfairly taken, and I will be properly
released," he said to himself.  "I'll do what is right, whatever comes
of it."

The brig's repairs did not take long; but the arrangements respecting
the prize occupied the Captain some time, so that nearly ten days passed
before the brig was standing once more down the Sound.

Poor True Blue's application for a release had been ignored, and he now
felt certain that he should have to go out to India.  As they reached
the entrance of the Sound, a corvette was seen standing in.  She
exchanged colours with the brig, and proved to be the _Gannet_.  Captain
Brine, who was superior officer, directed the brig to heave-to.  A boat
shoved off from her, and, coming alongside, who should jump on the deck
of the brig but Paul Pringle, who, touching his hat, said in a stern
voice that he had been sent to bring back to his own ship Billy True
Blue Freeborn.



CHAPTER TWENTY TWO.

The _Gannet_ was bound to the West Indies.  All True Blue's friends were
on board.  The indignation they felt at the way he had first been
captured, and then kept on board, was very great.  He had contrived to
get off a letter to Mary, who of course told her father and Abel Bush
what had occurred; and they at once told the Captain, who, finding that
the brig was still at Plymouth, hoped to get there in time to recover
him.

"Ah, True Blue, my lad, you did right to stick to your ship, and not to
run," observed Paul Pringle, when his godson told him how much he had
been tempted to do so.  "Look here, now; if you had run, you see, you
would have found the _Gannet_ sailed, and lost your ship altogether.
There's no doubt about the matter."

Sir Henry Elmore was still on board as second lieutenant, and appeared
very glad to see him.  Captain Brine called him aft, and spoke very
kindly to him.  Moreover, he told him that he had given him the rating
of captain of the foretop, which was a great honour for so young a
seaman, and that when another vacancy occurred, he should have the
highest which his age would allow.

The ship had a quick passage to the West Indies, without meeting with an
enemy or even making a prize of a merchantman.  When there, however,
plenty of work appeared cut out for her.

Before long, when cruising off Porto Rico, a sail was descried from the
masthead.  The stranger at once bore down on the corvette.  She was soon
made out to be a large ship.  No thought of flight entered the heads of
any one.  If Spanish, they would take her; if French, they might hope to
beat her off.  All hands were rather disappointed when she made the
signal of H.M. frigate _Trent_; and when she came up she hove to, and
Captain Brine, ordering his boat, went on board.

The two ships made sail and stood in for the land.  As they skirted
along the coast, as near in as they could venture, several vessels were
seen at anchor in a bay, under the protection of a fort.  Some were
large and apparently armed.  The frigate and corvette now stood off
shore again, and the senior Captain informed Captain Brine that he
proposed cutting them out at night, when they would be less prepared for
an attack.  Before the evening, the two ships had run to a sufficient
distance not to be seen from the shore.

As soon as it was dark, they once more beat up towards the bay.  Every
preparation was made for the intended cutting-out expedition.  There
were six boats, all of which were placed under the command of the first
lieutenant of the frigate, and Sir Henry Elmore went as second in
command, with True Blue as his coxswain.

The ships hove to, and the boats shoved off about midnight.  In two of
them the marines of the frigate, with their officer, were embarked, to
act on shore if necessary.  The plan was, that they were together to
board each vessel in succession, beginning at the largest.  With muffled
oars and in dead silence away they pulled.  The night was dark; but the
phosphoric sparkle of the water as the boats clove their way through it,
and the oars lifted it in their upward stroke, might have betrayed them
as they drew near, had the Spaniards been vigilant.

The frigate's boats, it was settled, should board aft, while the
corvette's boarded forward of each vessel.

The outline of the hills rose in a clear line ahead, while the fort
appeared directly above their heads, looking down on the anchorage,
where the vessels lay clustered together.  Not a light appeared; there
was not a movement of any sort: the Dons were evidently fast asleep.

They were close alongside one of the largest ships--a heavy merchantman,
she seemed--when the loud barking of a dog was heard.  Still no one was
aroused.  It increased in fury as they approached.  At last one of the
watch must have seen the strange boats, for he shouted to his shipmates.
They did not understand their danger till the British seamen were
climbing up the ship's sides.  The deck was won, and every Spaniard who
came up from below was unceremoniously knocked down again.  The prize
was armed and the crew were numerous; so, as soon as they were secured
below hatches, a mate with a boat's crew was ordered to cut the cable,
make sail, and carry her out to the ships outside.

This first victory had been bloodless and easy; but now all the crews of
the vessels were on the alert, as were the garrison of the fort, though
in the darkness they were unable to ascertain in which direction to
point their guns.  However, they soon opened their fire on the outer
ship, when she began to move; but their range was not correct, and their
shot fell among friends and foes alike.  The shot fell rapidly among the
boats; and at the same moment a warm fire of musketry was opened on them
from the decks of the vessels, proving that there must be a considerable
number of men among them, and that some were well armed.

To silence the fort, the marines were ordered to land; and while they
gallantly rushed up the heights to storm it, the bluejackets pulled on
towards the next vessel.  As they got alongside, she seemed like a
man-of-war or a privateer; but there was no time for deliberation.  Up
her sides they were bound to go.  As Sir Henry and his boat's crew made
the attempt, they were received with boarding-pikes and pistol-shots in
their faces.  The bow-gun in the boat was in return pointed up and
loaded to the muzzle with musket balls and all sorts of langrage.  It
cleared a space on the deck, and before it was again occupied the
English had possession of it.

Two vessels were thus taken, both armed; but the strength of the
cutting-out party was gradually decreasing, while the number of the
enemy appeared as large as ever.

The cable of the vessel, a schooner, was cut; and the night wind blowing
off shore, headsail was got on her, and she stood out after the first
captured.  The boats pulled on to attack a third vessel, while the fire
of the marines as they stormed the fort, smartly returned by its
defenders, lighted up the ground above them.

The next vessel was also a schooner.  She looked long but low, and it
seemed as if there would be but little difficulty in boarding her; but
it was found as they got up to her that stout boarding nettings were
triced up all round, though no one was to be seen on her decks.

Sir Henry Elmore's division was the first which reached, her, and True
Blue was the first man up her side, the young lieutenant being close
behind him.  True Blue was hacking away at the netting, as were the
other boarders, several of whom had leaped down on deck, when True Blue
sprang through the opening he had made, and, grasping Sir Henry,
literally forced him back into the boat.  Before a word could be spoken
there was a loud roar, the deck of the vessel lifted, fierce flames
burst out from her sides, and all on board were blown into the air.
True Blue's quick eye had detected the first glare of the flame as it
appeared through the hatchway, and instantly he sprang back, or he would
have been too late.  As it was, he was very much scorched, as was Sir
Henry in a less degree, though somewhat hurt by his fall.

"You have again saved my life, Freeborn!" he exclaimed as soon as he had
recovered his senses and saw what had occurred.

"All right, sir," answered Billy; "but we will punish the next craft.  I
suppose they don't all intend to blow up.  Hurrah, lads, we've not done
with the Dons yet!"

Even while he was speaking, the mast, spars, and rigging of the vessel
which had blown up kept thickly falling around them.  Some of the
English seamen were hurt, and one or more killed by them, besides three
or four killed by the actual explosion on board; still the commander of
the expedition was not a man to give up any work on account of losses.
On they went, therefore, towards the next vessel--a large brig.  The
Spanish crew were prepared to receive them, and opened a hot fire from
several guns.  However, from being pointed too high, the shot passed
over their heads.

The boats were the next instant alongside.  Sir Henry, with True Blue,
gained the forecastle.  Scarcely for a minute did the Spaniards
withstand their onslaught; their boats were on the opposite side, and,
rapidly retreating, they leaped into them.

"Elmore, you and your boat's crew keep possession of the vessel, and
carry her out," said the first lieutenant.  "I will take a couple more,
and, if possible, come back for the rest."

Having hurriedly given these directions, he with his men leaped into
their boats, while Sir Henry gave the necessary orders for getting the
brig under weigh; the jib was hoisted, and two hands were sent aloft to
lower the fore-topsail.

True Blue, however, without waiting for orders, acted on the impulse
which seized him, and hurried below.  It was more than an impulse; his
mind was full of the dreadful fate he and his companions had just
escaped, and it occurred to him that the Spaniards might again be guilty
of a similar act of barbarity.

All was quiet below, but a stream of light issued from a chink in one of
the side cabins.  He hastily opened the door; a taper was burning on the
top of a cask.  The cask was full of gunpowder!  Several similar casks
stood around.  The slightest heeling over of the brig, as her sails felt
the wind, might make her share the fate of her consort, or, in another
minute or two, the candle itself would burn down and ignite the powder.

There was not a moment for deliberation, and yet the slightest act of
carelessness would destroy him and his friends.  A single spark falling
from the long wick would be ruin.  A firm hand and a brave heart were
required to do that apparently simple act--to withdraw the taper from
the cask.  It must be done at that moment!  He heard Sir Henry calling
him to take the helm.  Planting his feet one on each side of the cask,
to steady himself, he stooped down, and, bringing his hands round the
taper, enclosed it tightly within them, withdrawing them quickly, and at
the same time pressing out every particle of fire.  When it was done,
his heart beat more freely.  He hurried round to ascertain that no
similar mine existed, ready to destroy them, and then, returning on
deck, went calmly to the helm.

The gallant marines had in the meantime bravely done the work on which
they had been sent, as was evident from the cessation of the fire from
the fort, and the cries of the Spaniards who had been driven out of it.
Having spiked the guns, they came down to the shore, when the boats went
in and re-embarked them.

A large merchant ship was brought off, and another schooner.  The rest
of the vessels were either scuttled or had driven on shore.  The latter
were set on fire, and the whole expedition then sailed away with their
well-won prizes.

"I called to you some time before you came to the helm.  Where were you,
Freeborn?" said Sir Henry as the brig they had captured had got some way
out of the harbour.

True Blue only then told his superior officer of the providential escape
they had had.

"But we ought to have drowned the casks.  Should any careless fellow be
prowling about with a light, we might all be blown up as it is."

"The people were too busy on deck, I know, Sir Henry," answered True
Blue.  "I shut the door, and think there is no risk."

Sir Henry, however, did not feel comfortable till he had taken
precautions against the risk they were running.  Sending Tom Marline,
now a quartermaster, to the helm, he got a lantern, and he and True
Blue, going below, brought on deck all the casks of powder they could
find.  True Blue then suggested that they might search further; and in
the hold of the vessel they discovered a considerable quantity more,
while the magazine, the door of which had been left open, was full.
Had, therefore, the first explosion merely set her on fire, the
remainder of the powder would have blown her and all on board to
fragments.

"Had you been an officer, Freeborn, you would have been able to have
command of the prize," observed Sir Henry.  "I wish you were from my
heart, for you deserve it richly."

"Very happy as I am, Sir Henry, thank you," was True Blue's answer.
"Maybe when I'm a bo'sun I may have charge of some craft or other; but
I've no wish now to command this or any other vessel."

All Sir Henry could say would not rouse True Blue's ambition.  He got,
however, very great commendation from Captain Brine for his conduct in
the cutting-out expedition.  The prizes were officered and manned from
the frigate and corvette, and the two ships shortly after this parted
company.  The _Gannet_ took two or three more prizes, and sent them into
Jamaica.  Some little time had passed when, as the _Gannet_ was standing
to the southward of Guadaloupe, having gone through the passage between
that island and Dominique, just as day broke, the land was seen in the
far distance; and much nearer, on the weather beam, a sail, which no one
doubted was an enemy's frigate.

There she lay, with fully twenty guns grinning through each of her
sides, opposed to the _Gannet's_ nine in her broadside.  Some short time
elapsed after the two ships had discovered each other.  The midshipman
of the watch had gone down to summon Captain Brine.

"I wonder what our skipper will do?" observed Tom Marline to True Blue.
"Shall we fight the Frenchman, or up stick and run? or give in if we
find that he has a faster pair of heels than we have, which is likely
enough?"

"Run!  Give in!" ejaculated True Blue.  "I hope not, indeed.  I know you
too well, Tom, to fancy that you'd be for doing either one or the other
without a hard tussle for it.  It's my idea the Captain won't give in as
long as we have a stick standing or the ship will float.  If we are
taken, depend on it, he will sell the Frenchmen a hard bargain."

"Right, lad--right!" exclaimed Tom Marline.  "I knowed, Billy, that
you'd think as I do; and if the Captain proposes to do what I think he
will, we must stick by him, for I know some of the people don't quite
like the look of things, and fancy it's hopeless to contend with such
odds."

Captain Brine, however, when he came on deck and took a survey of the
state of affairs, did not seem to hold quite to the opinion of Tom and
True Blue.  His heart did not quail more than theirs; but he reflected
that he had no right to hazard the lives of his people and the loss of
his ship in a contest against odds so great, if it could be avoided.  He
gave a seaman's glance round as he came on deck, and then instantly
ordered all sail to be made, and the ship's head to be kept north-west.
The stranger, which then hoisted French colours, leaving no doubt of her
character, made all sail in chase.  Anxiously she was watched by all
hands.

"I thought how it would be, Billy!" exclaimed Tom Marline; "she is
coming up fast with us.  The Monsieurs build fast ships--there's no
doubt on't; we shall have to fight her."

Meantime, all the crew were not so satisfied.  Gipples and several
others like him looked at their overpowering enemy, and some went below
to fetch out their bags, for the sake of putting on their best clothing.

"I don't see why we should go for to have our heads shot away, or get
our legs and arms knocked off, just for the sake of what the Captain
calls honour and glory," observed Gipples in a low voice to those
standing near him.  "We are certain to lose the ship and be made
prisoners when a quarter of us, or it maybe half, are killed and
wounded, and I for one don't see the fun of that."

"No more don't I," observed Sam Smatch, who had come up on deck to have
a look round.  "I've been fiddler of a seventy-four, and now I'm cook of
this here little craft, all for the sake of old friends, and I've larned
a thing or two; but I haven't larned that there's any use knocking your
head against a stone wall, or trying to fight an enemy just three times
your size, and that's the real difference between us and that big
Frenchman.  Mind you, mates, though, I don't want to be made a prisoner
by the Frenchmen, but it can't be helped--that I see."

Such was the tone of the remarks made by a considerable number of the
crew as they watched the gradual approach of the frigate.  It was not
surprising, when they considered that they had, with their diminished
numbers, not a hundred men to oppose, probably, three hundred.  Mr
Digby, the first lieutenant, as he passed along the decks, observed
their temper and reported it to the Captain.

"Never mind what some of them just now feel," he answered; "we have
plenty of good men and true, who will stand by me to the last.  I intend
to fight the Frenchman, and beat him off, too.  Send the men aft; I will
speak to them."

The crew, both the discontented and the staunch, came crowding aft.

"My lads," cried Captain Brine, "you have served with me now for some
time, and on numerous occasions showed yourselves to be gallant and true
British sailors.  We have been in several actions when the enemy has
been fully equal to us in force, and we have never failed to come off
victorious; and not only victorious, but for every man we have lost, the
enemy has lost five or six.  As I have ever before been successful, so I
hope to be now.  You see that French frigate coming up astern?  I intend
to engage her, as I am sure you will all stand by me to the last.  Never
mind that she has got twice as many guns as we have; if we handle our
bulldogs twice as well as she does hers, we shall be a match for her.
So, my lads, go to your quarters.  Fight as bravely as you ever have
done for our good King and dear Old England; and let us uphold the
honour of our flag, and thoroughly drub the Frenchmen."

"That we will, sir--that we will!" shouted True Blue, several others
joining him.  "Hurrah for Old England!  Hurrah! hurrah!"

"The sooner, then, we begin the better, my lads," continued Captain
Brine.  "Wait till I give the word to fire; and when I do give it, don't
throw your shot away."

After another hearty cheer, set off by True Blue, the men went steadily
to their quarters.  Royals and topgallant-sails were handed, the courses
were clewed up, and the corvette under her three topsails stood calmly
on, waiting the approach of the enemy.  Undoubtedly the Frenchmen
fancied that some desperate trick was going to be played them.

On came the frigate.  "Remember, lads, do not fire till every shot will
tell!" cried Captain Brine.  "Wait till I give the word."

The frigate, under all sail, approached on the starboard and weather
beam of the corvette.  As the former found that her small antagonist was
within range of her guns, she opened her fire; but the guns, being
pointed high, either passed over the British ship or merely injured some
of her rigging.

When the Frenchman got within hail, some one on board, seeing the small
size of the corvette, and believing that she would instantly give in,
sang out, "Strike! strike, you English!"

"Ay, that we will, and pretty hard, too," answered Captain Brine through
his speaking trumpet.  "Give it them, my lads!"

The loud cheer which the crew gave on hearing this reply had not died
away before every shot from the corvette's broadside had found its way
across the frigate's decks, or through her side.  Again the heavy
carronades were run in and loaded.

"Remember, lads, we have to make our nine guns of a side do more work
than the Frenchman's twenty!" cried True Blue as he hauled in on the
gun-tackle, every muscle strained to the utmost.  "Hurrah, boys! we've
already sent twice as many shot aboard him as he has given us."

With similar cries and exclamations, True Blue and others of the best
seamen encouraged the rest, while the commissioned and warrant-officers
kept their eyes on any who seemed to despair of success, and urged them
to persevere.

Captain Brine seldom for a moment took his eyes off the French ship, and
kept his own just at sufficient distance to let his carronades have
their full effect, and yet not near enough to run the risk of being
suddenly boarded, should any of his masts or spars be shot away.  This
seemed to be the aim of the Frenchman, for but very few of her shot had
struck the hull of the corvette, though they had considerably damaged
her rigging.

At length the frigate put up her helm to close.  Captain Brine, who had
been watching for this manoeuvre, shouted to his men to cease firing for
an instant, till her head came round.

"Now rake her, my boys!" he cried; and the shot and various missiles
with which the guns were loaded went crashing in through the frigate's
bow-ports and along her main deck.

He then put his own helm down, and, hauling the tacks aboard, would have
shot ahead of the Frenchman, had not the latter done the same to prevent
her opponent obtaining the weather-gage.  Just as she was doing so, she
received the larger portion of another broadside.  Thus the two ships
ran on.  Nothing could exceed the rapidity with which the _Gannet's_
crew kept up their fire.  For nearly two hours they had fought on.  One
man only had been wounded.  What the casualties of the enemy were, they
could not tell; but they had every reason to believe them severe.
Suddenly the frigate ceased firing; she was seen to haul her tacks
aboard, and away she stood to the northward, under a press of sail, the
corvette being too much cut up in rigging and sails to follow.

Right hearty were the cheers which burst from the throats of the seamen
when they found that their Captain had fulfilled his promise and beat
off the Frenchmen.  No one cheered more loudly than Gregory Gipples,
whether or not at pleasure at having escaped without harm, or at the
honour of having beaten the enemy, may be doubted.

"Well shouted, old Gipples!" cried Tim Fid.  "One would suppose you'd
been and done it all yourself."

Just then a puff of smoke was seen to proceed from one of the retreating
frigate's after-ports, and the next instant poor Gipples was spinning
along the deck, shrieking out with terror and pain.  Out of all the
crew, in spite of the heavy fire to which the corvette had been exposed,
he and another poor fellow were the only men hit.  This shot seemed a
parting one of revenge.  As Captain Brine watched the receding frigate,
he could scarcely persuade himself that she would not again bear down
upon him.  On she stood--farther and farther off she got, till her hull
sank beneath the horizon, and her courses, and then her topsails, and
finally her topgallant-sails and royals, were hid from sight.

Fid, Hartland, and others carried poor Gipples below.  Wonderful to
relate, when the surgeon came to examine him, he pronounced his wound,
though bad, not of necessity mortal, and thought that under favourable
circumstances he might possibly do well.  No one could have tended him
more carefully and kindly than True Blue and his other old messmates;
and he showed more gratitude for their attention than might have been
expected.

Scarcely had the enemy disappeared, when the lookout at the masthead
reported a large ship on the lee beam.  Every exertion that could be
made was applied to get the _Gannet_ into a condition to chase, and in
an hour's time, under a wide spread of canvas she was standing after the
stranger.

The latter appeared not to be a man-of-war, as she made off towards the
Island of Guadaloupe, then dead to leeward.  As she had so far the
start, it became a question whether she could be brought to before she
ran herself on shore.  Still the _Gannet_, it was soon seen, sailed
faster than she did, and Guadaloupe was scarcely visible on the horizon.

The breeze freshened, the corvette tore with foam-covered bows through
the blue glittering ocean.  At 11 a.m. she had made sail.  By 3 p.m. she
had got the stranger within range of her long guns.

"She is remarkably like an English ship, and from the way she is
handled, I think she must be a prize, with a small crew on board,"
observed the first to the second lieutenant.

After a few shots, the stranger's main-topsail-yard was shot away, when
she brought to, and proved to be the _Swift_, a British merchant ship,
bound to Barbadoes, a prize to the frigate the _Gannet_ had just beaten
off.  Mr Nott, with ten men, including True Blue and Tim Fid, were sent
on board to work her; and as, instead of deserving the name of the
_Swift_, she was more worthy of that of the _Tub_, the _Gannet_ took her
in tow, hoping to carry her to Barbadoes.  All night long she towed her.

At daybreak next day, Captain Brine found that the misnamed _Swift_ had
drifted close in towards the land, while within her lay a frigate, and
to all appearance the very frigate he had beaten off the day before.

Not a breath of wind ruffled the calm surface of that tropical sea.  It
was evident that the _Gannet_ herself could do nothing to assist her
prize.  The Captain therefore called his officers round him, and asked
their opinion as to the possibility of successfully defending her with
the boats.  They were against the advisability of making such an
attempt.

As the daylight increased, the French frigate discovered the character
of the two ships outside her.

"I wonder whether she will attempt to retake the _Swift_," said Captain
Brine.  "If so, Nott will be unable to defend her, and I must recall
him.  Let the lookout aloft give us notice the instant any boats are
seen to leave her side."

No long time had elapsed before the French, supposing that the calm was
going to continue, put off from the frigate with four boats.

"I believe Nott and his men would defend the prize to the last; but I
must not expose them to such a risk," observed the Captain.

"I am sure our True Blue won't give in if he has a word in the matter,"
observed Paul Pringle to Peter Ogle.  "Mr Nott is staunch, too.
They'll do their best to beat the Frenchmen off."

This was very well; but though possible, it was not probable that they
would succeed; so the Captain ordered the signal, "Escape in your
boats," to be made.

It had been made some time, and yet it was not answered, probably
because it was not seen.  The French were getting very near.

"It's my belief that they intend to try and defend the ship," observed
Paul Pringle.  "I wish I was with them if they do--that's all."

"Fire a gun to call their attention to the signal!" cried the Captain.

Immediately the signal was answered, and two boats put off from the
ship's side.  In two minutes afterwards the French were up to the prize;
but they seemed inclined to have the crew as well, and, instead of
boarding her, pulled on in chase.  Captain Brine, on seeing this,
ordered three boats to be lowered and manned on the opposite side,
hoping that they might venture near enough to be caught themselves.
They now began firing at the two English boats, with which they were
fast coming up.  The Frenchmen must have seen that there was a great
chance of their prey escaping them, unless they captured them at once.
The crews uttered loud cries, the boats dashed on.  In another minute
they would have been up to them, when the corvette's three boats
appeared from under her counter, and pulled rapidly towards them.

They saw that their chance of success was over, and, pulling round, went
back to the prize as fast as they came.

"We should have fought them, sir, if we had not been recalled," observed
Mr Nott, when reporting what had occurred to the Captain.

There appeared every probability of the corvette having to contend with
two frigates instead of one, for the masts of another were made out in
the harbour just abreast of them.  The crew also knew of this.  There
was a good deal of talking among them, when they all came aft in a body.
True Blue stepped out from among them, and spoke in a clear, firm
voice:

"You called on us, sir, to fight the last time; we hope, sir, that you
will allow us to ask you to fight this time, and we'll stick by you."

"Thank you, my lads--thank you; I am sure that you will," answered the
Captain.  "Whatever we do, we will not disgrace our flag."

The crew gave three loud cheers and retired.  Cat's-paws were now seen
playing on the water; the sails of the French frigate filled, but her
head was not turned towards the corvette.  Soon the latter also felt the
force of the breeze.  Captain Brine ordered the sails to be trimmed, and
the corvette stood away from the land.  As she did so, her crew could
clearly make out another frigate coming out of harbour to join her
consort, but what the enemy's two ships were about, it was impossible to
say, as in a short time, with the freshening breeze, they were both run
out of sight.



CHAPTER TWENTY THREE.

The _Gannet_ had now been some time on the station, and had performed a
number of deeds worthy of note, taken several prizes, and injured the
enemy in a variety of ways, when one morning, just at daybreak, as she
lay not far from Porto Rico, a schooner was seen creeping out from under
the land towards her.

Captain Brine had done his best to make his ship look as much as
possible like a merchantman.  She was now slowly yawed about as if badly
steered, with sails ill trimmed, and her sides brown and dirty and long
unacquainted with fresh paint, a screen of canvas concealing her ports.
The schooner came on boldly, her crew evidently fancying that they had
got a rich prize before them.

"Are those Spaniards or French, Paul?" inquired True Blue of his
godfather.

"Anything you please, probably," was the answer.  "They have, I doubt
not, as many flags on board as there are months in the year.  She looks
at this distance just like a craft of that sort--a regular hornet; I
hope we may stop her buzzing."

While Paul was speaking, the wind fell, and the schooner, now about six
miles off, was seen to get out her sweeps and pull away from the
corvette.

"We must get that fellow!" exclaimed the boatswain.  "If the Captain
will let me, I'll volunteer to pull after him.  True Blue, you'll come?"

"I should think so," answered True Blue, looking into Paul's face.  "If
none of the quarterdeck officers have thought of going, he'll not
refuse."

"I'll go too!" cried Abel Bush.  "The superior officers have had their
share lately, and the Captain will be glad to give us our turn."

Without further parley, the two warrant-officers went to the
quarterdeck, where the Captain was standing.  The lieutenant and master
gave up their right, as did the master's mates; and, accordingly, the
pinnace and launch were ordered to be lowered and manned immediately,
ready for service.

Paul went in the pinnace with True Blue, while Abel Bush had charge of
the launch.  Away the boats glided in gallant style through the smooth
water.  The men had taken a hurried breakfast before leaving the ship,
for they saw that they had a long pull before them.

The crew of the schooner seemed determined to give them as long a pull
as possible, and with their sweeps kept well ahead, not going less than
three or four knots an hour.  This, however, in no way daunted the
boatswain and his companions.  "Hurrah, my lads, we'll soon be aboard!"
he shouted.  Give way--give way!  In two minutes we may open fire on
her.  We've distanced the launch.  The schooner must be ours before she
comes up.

Even while he was speaking, the shot from the chase came falling pretty
thickly around them.  That only made them pull the faster.  The schooner
appeared to be full of men, with several guns on each side, and boarding
nettings fixed up.  Paul might have been excused if he had waited for
the coming up of the other boat, but that was not his way of doing
things--on he pulled.

The schooner swept round so as to present her broadside to the
approaching boats; but he, altering his course a little, steered
directly for her quarter.  Led by True Blue, the crew gave a loud cheer
as they dashed on under her counter, and then, pushing round to her
quarter, hooked on.  In a moment, cutting the tricing lines of her
boarding nettings, they sprang up her side and threw themselves on the
deck.  They were received with a shower of musket and pistol bullets,
and the points of a row of pikes.

The bullets struck down two of the daring boarders; but the remainder
pushed on, striking down the pikes with their cutlasses, and playing
havoc among the heads of the men who held them.

The Frenchmen stoutly defended themselves for some time with swords and
axes, but in vain did they attempt to withstand the fierce onslaught of
the British seamen.  They began to give way; some were cut down, others
in their terror sprang overboard.  Paul received a wound in his side
which prevented him from moving; but True Blue, heading his companions,
with his sharp cutlass whirling away in front, swept along the deck,
driving the Frenchmen before him.

A desperate stand was made by the officers of the vessel on the
forecastle, and from the small number of their assailants they might
even then have hoped, with some reason, still to gain the victory; but
while they were discussing what was to be done, the British seamen were
making good use of their cutlasses, and in another moment they found
themselves hurled down the hatchway, knocked overboard, or, if alive, on
their knees asking for quarter.

All opposition had ceased, and the schooner's flag was hauled down, when
Abel, in his heavy-pulling launch, came alongside.

"Well, mates, you've made quick work of the Monsieurs, and have had the
honour and glory, too, while we've only had the hot pull!" cried the
crew of the latter boat.

"And what's more, mates," answered the boatswain, "you'll have to pull
hard to get us back again; for there are few of us who have not got
touched up by the enemy."

Of this, the appearance of the survivors of the gallant crew of the
pinnace gave evidence.  Paul himself was pretty severely wounded; and
True Blue, Hartland, Fid, and all the rest were more or less hurt.  One
seaman had been killed, and one marine knocked overboard by the French.

The enemy's loss had, however, been much more severe.  Out of a crew of
nearly fifty men, four lay killed on her deck, fully eight had jumped or
been knocked overboard, and a dozen or more were badly wounded.

After the remainder had been mustered and secured, a watchful eye was
kept on them; but they showed no disposition to mutiny, even though
compelled to work the sweeps, to enable the schooner to close with the
corvette.

Captain Brine highly applauded the gallant way in which the schooner had
been taken.

"Ay, sir, and I wish you could have seen my godson as his cutlass
cleared the Frenchman's decks!" exclaimed Paul.

"I have no doubt about it," answered the Captain.  "It is no fault of
his friends that he is not on the quarterdeck.  But for yourself, Mr
Pringle, I wish to know what reward you would like, that I may do my
best to secure it for you."

"I have not thought about that, sir; but if you could spare me, I should
be glad to have charge of the prize to take her to Jamaica.  I should
just like to find out how I feel acting as Captain."

Captain Brine was amused at Paul's notion.

"But how will the _Gannet_ get on without her boatswain, Mr Pringle?"
asked the Captain.  "She can ill spare him, I should think."

"Why, sir, I thought about that, and wouldn't have asked leave if I
didn't know my place would be well filled while I was away," replied
Paul.  "There's my first mate, Dick Marlowe, a very steady man, who
hopes to pass as boatswain when he gets to England; and I'll engage the
duty is properly done while he is acting for me."

"But you and the rest are wounded.  How can you do without a surgeon?"
said Captain Brine.

"Mere fleabites, sir--nothing to signify.  The doctor has patched up my
side, and says I shall do well; and the lads I wish to take with me are
only slightly hurt, and don't want doctoring."

The Captain, on sending for the surgeon and hearing his report, made no
further objections, but promised compliance with Paul's wishes, the more
readily that the _Gannet_ herself was to go to Jamaica in a week or two.

The prisoners were soon removed from the prize, with the exception of a
Dane and a Dutchman, who volunteered to remain in her; while Paul took
with him True Blue, Tom Marline, Harry Hartland, Tim Fid, and three
other hands.

Paul had, since he became a warrant-officer, been studying navigation,
and was able to take an observation, and to do a day's work very
correctly.  All his knowledge he imparted to True Blue, who, however,
quickly surpassed him, in consequence of Sir Henry frequently sending
for him aft, and giving him regular instruction.  By this time,
therefore, True Blue, by directing his attention entirely to the work,
had become really as good a navigator as any of the midshipmen, and a
better one than those who were content to fudge their day's work, and
never attempted to understand the principle of the science.

Of navigation, Tom Marline, like most seamen not officers, was
profoundly ignorant.  Paul, therefore, told him that he was very sorry
he could not bestow on him the rating of lieutenant, which he must give
to True Blue, but that he would make him sailing-master.  Harry Hartland
should be a midshipman, on account of his general steadiness and
intelligence; the Dutchman should be cook, and the other four men crew;
while Tim Fid, who was little less a pickle than when he was a boy, must
do duty as gunroom and purser's steward, besides doing his work as part
of the crew.

At this arrangement no one grumbled; indeed, all hands liked the
boatswain.  It was arranged that his gunroom officers should mess with
him, Harry also being invited as a regular guest.  Paul took one watch
with four of the men.  True Blue, with Tom, Harry, Fid, the Dane, and
the Dutchman, had the other.

These various arrangements occupied some time after the schooner lost
sight of the corvette.  In the next day, the wind being very light, she
made but little progress.  The day following, the weather, which had
long been fine, gave signs of changing; and instead of the clear blue
sky and glass-like sea, which for many weeks had surrounded the ship,
dark clouds gathered overhead, sudden gusts of winds began to blow, and
the water began to undulate, and every now and then to hiss and foam as
the blast passed over it.  Then down came the rain in right earnest, and
continued for some hours, the watery veil obscuring every object beyond
a mile or so.  Suddenly, as the rain ceased, about two miles off, a
schooner was seen, apparently the size of the prize, if not larger, and
dead to windward.

Paul instantly hoisted French colours, and the other vessel did the
same.  On looking at her through a telescope, she appeared to have on
board a numerous crew.  Paul, however, determined at all events not to
be taken, and, following the example of Captain Brine, he called his
crew aft and made them a speech.

"Lads," he began, "you know what we did in the corvette.  We beat off a
frigate twice our size; we took this craft with twelve men, for, no
blame to him, my brother officer, Mr Bush, and his companions did not
come up till the day was gained.  And I need not tell you, lads, we
ourselves and other British seamen have dared and done a thousand things
much more desperate than our attempting to beat off such a craft as that
one out there, though she may have five times as many hands aboard as we
have, and twice as many guns."

"Hurrah, that's just like him!" cried True Blue, turning to his
shipmates; "and I say, Mynheer, you'll fight, won't you?" he added,
seizing the Dutchman's hand and wringing it heartily.

"Ya, va!  I'll stick by you brave Anglish lads," answered the Dutchman.

The Dane made a similar reply, though somewhat less cordial, to Tom's
appeal, and then all the crew, having given three hearty cheers, set
about getting their prize ready for action.

All the firearms were brought on deck and carefully loaded, and so were
the guns, and each man girded a trusty cutlass to his side and stuck his
belt full of pistols; and then Paul had all the hammocks brought on
deck, and lashed upright inside the bulwarks, so as to serve as a screen
to the men working the guns.

The prize had all this time been kept running on under full sail to the
westward, and as the stranger was steering the same course, the distance
between the two had not been decreased, the latter evidently being under
the impression that the prize was a friend.

Suddenly, though it was blowing fresh, she made more sail, put up her
helm, and bore down on the prize.  Paul stood steadily on with the
French flag flying, till the enemy was within musket range; then down
came the tricolour and the British ensign flew out at the peak.

"Now, lads, as we've got the flag we all love to fight under aloft, give
it them!" he shouted, and, putting his helm down, he brought his
broadside to bear on the bows of the advancing stranger.  Every one of
the raking shot told among the crowd of men who clustered on her deck.
Wild shrieks and cries arose; and now her helm being put down, she
ranged up on the beam of the prize, with the intention of boarding.

Paul, however, who saw their intention, told Harry Hartland, who was at
the helm, to keep away a little, so as to avoid actual contact; and in
the meantime all the guns were again fired, within ten yards' distance,
directly at the schooner.  Hitherto, strange as it may appear, not an
Englishman had been hit, while some dozen or more of the enemy had been
struck down.  Still the privateer had greatly the advantage in point of
numbers, besides being a larger and more heavily-armed vessel.

She now steered on alongside the prize for a few seconds, while her guns
were reloaded; and then, firing her broadside once more, she kept
suddenly away to run aboard her opponent.

The wind had been increasing, and the sea getting rapidly up.  This was
now much to the advantage of the British, as they could fight their
weather guns far more easily than the enemy could their lee ones, the
muzzles of which were almost buried in the foam.

The stranger had got so close that Harry was not able to keep away in
time to avoid her running her bows right into the prize's quarter.

"Now we've got you, we'll keep you until we have given you more than you
bargained for!" cried True Blue, lashing the stranger's bowsprit to
their own mainmast, where she was kept in such a position that three of
their guns could be continually firing into her, while her crew could
not reach the prize's deck without taking a dangerous leap from their
bowsprit.  Many attempted it; but as they reached the vessel's bulwarks,
they had to encounter the cutlasses of True Blue, Paul Pringle, and Tim
Fid, while Tom Marline and the other men kept the forward guns in active
work.

Frenchmen, negroes, Spaniards, mulattoes, and other mongrels were hurled
one after the other into the water; while numbers were jerked overboard
by the violent working of the vessels.  At length, as the enemy, in
greater numbers than ever, were making a furious rush forward, fully
expecting to overwhelm the English, the bowsprit with a loud crash gave
way, carrying, as it did so, the foremast, just before wounded by a
shot, with it.

Wild shrieks and cries and imprecations rose from the savage crew--from
some as they fell into the boiling ocean below their feet, now swarming
with sharks, called around by the scent of human blood; from the rest at
their disappointment in missing their prey.

Glad as Paul would have been to make a prize, he saw that his opponent
would prove worse than a barren trophy.

"Up with the helm, Harry!" he cried.  "Cut, my lads--cut everything!
Clear the wreck!"

The crew needed no second order.  True Blue, axe in hand, had already
cut away the lashings of the bowsprit.  A few more cuts cleared the
bowsprit shrouds and other ropes, by which the enemy still hung on, and
in another instant the prize was going off before the gale, while her
disabled opponent luffed up into the wind's eye.

Down came the squall, darker and more furious than before.  Not another
shot was fired.  Paul and his people had enough to do in shortening sail
and getting their craft into a condition to meet the rising gale.  Their
strength, too, had been reduced in the action.  The poor Dutchman was
severely wounded, though, like a brave fellow, he insisted on keeping
the deck, and so was one of the _Gannet's_ men.

With the next squall down came a thick pour of rain.

"Where is the enemy?" suddenly exclaimed True Blue, looking aft.

Paul turned his eyes in the same direction.  "We cannot have run her out
of sight in so short a time," he answered gravely; "it's my belief that
she this instant has foundered, and all on board have become food for
the sharks."

"But ought we not to go about and see if any are afloat?" asked True
Blue.  "We might pick up some of the poor wretches."

"Not the smallest use," answered Paul firmly.  "If she foundered, she
went down too quickly to give any one a chance of escaping.  We must
just now look after ourselves; this craft is very cranky, I see."

No one would have been more ready than Paul to help his
fellow-creatures, whatever the risk to himself, had he seen that there
was the slightest prospect of doing so effectually.

For the remainder of the day the prize stood on close-hauled, nearly up
to her proper course; but as the evening advanced, she fell off more to
the westward, while the sea increased more and more, as did the violence
of the squalls, while the thunder rolled, and vivid flashes of lightning
darted from the dark skies.

The night drew on.  True Blue, with Tom, Harry, Tim, and the Dane, had
the first watch; Paul, with the rest of the crew, was to keep the middle
watch.  Though tough enough, he was pretty well worn out with the
exertions he had gone through; so he went below, charging True Blue to
call him should anything particular occur.  His cabin was on the
starboard side; and in the main cabin was a table with a swing light
above it, and also a compass light in the cabin binnacle.

True Blue with Tom walked the deck for some time, watching each change
of the weather; Fid had the helm, Harry was on the lookout forward,
while the Dane sat silent on a gun under the weather bulwarks.  The rest
of the crew were asleep below forward.

The weather, as the night advanced, grew worse and worse.

"Tom, I think we ought to bring the schooner to," said True Blue at
last; "she'll do no good keeping at it, and a sudden squall may carry
away our masts."

Accordingly the schooner was at once brought to under her close-reefed
foresail; and then she lay riding with tolerable ease over the seas,
which foamed and hissed as they rushed past her.

Everything having been made secure, True Blue went below to report what
had been done.  He found Paul sleeping more soundly than usual.  Perhaps
some of the medicine the surgeon had given him, on account of his wound,
had affected him, True Blue thought.  He had to speak two or three times
before he could make him comprehend what he had to say.

"All right," he answered at length; "if the weather gets worse, call me
again."

Scarcely had he uttered the words when he was thrown out of his
bed-place, and True Blue was sent with great violence against the
bulkhead of the cabin.

"On deck! on deck!" they both shouted; but as they made for the
companion-ladder, they were driven back by a tremendous rush of water:
the lights were extinguished, and they were left in total darkness.
Paul had scarcely recovered his senses, and neither he nor True Blue
could find their way to the companion-ladder.

The water continued rushing furiously into the cabin, and one thing only
was certain, that the schooner had upset.  How the accident had
happened, it was difficult to say; in all probability, too, she was
sinking.  The cabin was now more than three-quarters full of water, and
the only places where they could escape being instantly drowned were in
the berths on the starboard side.  In vain they shouted to their friends
on deck to come and help them out of the cabin.  No one answered to
their cries.

"They are all gone, I fear," said Paul.  "It's the fate of many brave
seamen; it will be more than likely our fate before many minutes are
over.  Still, godson, as I have always told you, it's our duty to
struggle for life to the last, like men; so climb up into these
starboard berths.  We shall be free of the water there for a little time
longer."

True Blue followed Paul's advice; and there they clung, while the water
rose higher and higher.  It got up to their waists, then up to their
armpits, and by degrees it almost covered their shoulders, though their
heads were pressed against the starboard side of the vessel, which lay
on her larboard beam-ends.  Both were silent; they could not but expect
that their last moments were come, and that the vessel must shortly go
down.

Time passed on.  The water did not further increase; but they felt
almost suffocated, and, indeed, the only air they breathed found its way
through the seams in the deck above their heads.  There they hung, in
total darkness: the roar and rush of waters above their heads; the air
so close and oppressive that they could scarcely draw breath or find
strength to hold themselves in the only position in which they could
prolong their lives, while they had the saddest apprehensions for the
fate of their companions, as they could scarcely hope, even should they
succeed in regaining the deck, that they would find any of them alive.

Hour after hour passed away, when suddenly the vessel righted with a
violent jerk, which sent them out of their berths into the centre cabin,
where they found themselves swimming and floundering about, sometimes
with their heads under water, sometimes above it, among boxes, and
bales, and furniture, and articles of all sorts.

They were now fully aroused.  True Blue exerted himself to help Paul,
who, wounded as he had been, and now sore and bruised, was less able
than usual to endure the hardships he was undergoing.

They were still in total darkness, and had to speak to let each other
know where they were.  True Blue had worked his way close to the
companion hatch, and thought that Paul was following.  He spoke, but
there was no answer.  His heart sank within him.  He swam and waded
back, feeling about in every direction with frantic eagerness.

"Paul Pringle--godfather--where are you?" he shouted.

Suddenly he felt an arm; it was Paul's.  He lifted him up, and, with a
strength few could have exerted, dragged him under the companion hatch.
The ladder had been unshipped; but True Blue having righted it, dragged
Paul up a few steps, where, in a short time recovering his breath, and
Paul regaining his consciousness, they together made an effort to reach
the deck.



CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR.

When True Blue went below to tell Paul how bad the weather had become,
he left the schooner hove to under her foresail, which, being stretched
out completely in the body of the vessel, is the best adapted for that
object under all circumstances but two--one, is, that being low down, it
is apt to get becalmed when the waves run high; the other is, that
should a heavy sea strike the vessel, it is likely to hold a dangerous
quantity of water.  The foreyard had been sprung, or True Blue would
have brought the vessel to under her fore-topsail.  True Blue had not
long left the deck when a tremendous sea, like a huge black hill, was
observed rolling up on the weather bow.

"Hold on, lads--hold on!" shouted Tom Marline.

Harry, who was at the helm, in an instant passed a rope round his waist
and stood at his post, hoping to luff the vessel up so as to receive the
blow on her bows; but the roaring sea came on too rapidly--down it broke
on board the vessel, driving against the foresail like a battering-ram.
Over it passed, and the schooner in an instant lay on her beam-ends, the
water rushing in at each hatchway.  The boats, guns, caboose, hencoops--
all the things, in short, on deck were swept away, with a great part of
her bulwarks.

Tom and the rest secured themselves under the weather bulwarks.  They
had not been there many seconds before they recollected their companions
below.  While Harry tried to reach the after cabin, Tom did his best to
get to the men in the forepeak.  Letting go his hold, he was working his
way forward, when another sea struck the vessel.

"Oh, Tom is gone!" cried Fid.

No one could help him.  Away the relentless sea washed him; but, just as
he was being hurled to destruction, he grasped the fore-rigging hanging
overboard, and hauled himself again on deck.  Tim and the Dane dragged
him up to the weather side, where they were joined by Harry, who
reported that the cabin was full of water; and he added, "Oh, mates, it
will break my heart--the boatswain and True Blue must both be drowned!"

"Ay, and we shall be drowned too!" cried the Dane, who had been for some
time complaining of pain.  "Our officers are gone, and we may as well go
too.  There is no use living on in misery longer than can be helped.
Good-bye, mates!"

"Avast there, mate!" exclaimed Tom; "be a man.  Don't give in till the
last!  Let us hope as long as there is life.  The day will come back,
and the sun will shine out, and a vessel may heave in sight!"

"No, no!  I can't stand it!" cried the poor unhappy Dane.  "I have no
hope--none!  Good-bye!"

On this, before Tom could prevent him, he cast off the lashings by which
he was secured to the bulwarks, and, sliding down into the water, a
roaring sea, as if exulting in its prize, carried him far away out of
their sight.

"Oh, mates, this is very sad!" exclaimed Tom to his two younger
companions.

"True, true," said Harry.  "Don't you think, now, we could do something
to try and save the vessel?  If we were to cut away the starboard
rigging, she might be freed from her masts and right herself."

The suggestion was of a practical nature, and pleased Tom; and all three
setting to work with their knives, with considerable labour cut through
the shrouds.  Scarcely were the last strands severed than the masts with
a loud crack went by the board, and with a violent jerk the vessel
righted.

"There, lads!" said Tom; "I told you things would mend, if we would but
trust in Providence."

Tom wished to encourage his companions, for the state of the vessel was
only apparently a degree improved.

"Ah, now, if we had had the bo'sun and True Blue with us, and the poor
fellows for'ard, we might have still done well.  Howsomdever, daylight
will come at last, and then we shall see better what to do."

As he ceased speaking, Tim Fid uttered a loud cry.  "Why,--oh, mercy!--
there be their ghosts!" he exclaimed.  "Paul and Billy!  It can't be
them!  They've been drowned this many an hour."

"It's them, though!" cried Harry.  "Heaven be praised!  They are
beckoning to us; let us go aft and help them."

He and his friends were soon grasping each other's hands, and describing
what had occurred.  Tom soon followed, and poor Tim, having recovered
his wits, and being convinced that they were alive, joined them.

Their condition was sad indeed.  There lay the vessel rolling and
tumbling about in the stormy ocean, the seas constantly making a clear
breach over her, the mainmast gone altogether, but the wreck of the
foremast still hanging on by the bowsprit and violently striking her
bows.

It was found that the best place for safety was inside the companion
hatch, where they all collected; and being there partially free from the
seas, they endeavoured to get a little rest, to prepare for whatever
they might have to do in the morning.

At length daylight broke; but it did little else than reveal more
clearly their forlorn condition.

True Blue having been preserved himself, was anxious to ascertain
whether his companions might have escaped in a similar way.  Tom assured
him that there was no hope; but he insisted on going forward to see.
The rest of the party watched him as he performed the dangerous passage,
for the seas kept continually beating over the vessel, and might easily
have washed him away.  He reached the fore-hatch, and, stooping down,
called to the men.  No answer was given.  The water was much too high in
the cabin to have allowed them to escape, and he returned aft convinced
of their death.

For some hours no one had thought of eating, but hunger now reminded
them that it was necessary to try and obtain food.  There was enough in
the vessel, if it could be got at; but the difficulty was to fish it up
from beneath the water.

In vain they watched--nothing appeared.  True Blue, who was the most
active, made several unsuccessful dives; but returned at length so
exhausted that Paul would not let him go again.

At last a flag floated up.  It seemed to come to remind them that it
would be wise to make a signal of distress.  A small spar had got jammed
in the bulwarks.  The flag, which proved to be a French tricolour, was
secured to it, and it was stuck in one of the pumps.

"I would rather see any ensign but that flying overhead," said Paul;
"but it will help to make us be seen, anyhow."

The night again returned, and during the whole of it they remained in
the same miserable condition that they had been in all day, the sea
raging as furiously, and the wind blowing as high as before.

The first thing in the morning, True Blue volunteered with Harry to go
and cut the foremast adrift.  An axe had been found.  Together the two
worked their way forward.  Having secured themselves by ropes, they set
to work, True Blue with his axe, Harry with his knife.  Now they were
completely covered with the seas which broke over the bows; again they
rose and drew breath, and made a few more desperate hacks, again to be
impeded by the next roaring surge.  Several shrouds, however, had been
severed.  Another sea, fiercer than ever, came rushing on.

A cry from Harry made True Blue turn round.  The greedy wave was
whirling him away, when True Blue grasped him by the arm and drew him
once more on board, when he more firmly secured himself.

"We must not give in, though!" cried True Blue, and went on hacking at
the ropes.

Again Harry joined him, and at length the heavy mast went floating away
free of the schooner.  Successful in their bold attempt, they returned
aft.  Hunger was now an enemy much to be feared; for among all the
articles which kept continually appearing and disappearing from the
cabin, nothing fit for food had been discovered.  At last two or three
roots appeared.  Fid, who was on the watch, made a dart at them, and,
fishing them up, declared them to be onions; so they were.  Several
others followed, and, being divided equally, were eagerly devoured.  How
delicious they tasted!

"Never fear, lads, but what assistance will be sent us in some way or
other which we don't expect, if we trust in God," said Paul.  "We didn't
expect to get these onions a minute ago, and we shall have more before
long, I daresay."

Nothing else, however, was found to eat during the rest of the day, and
another tempestuous night closed in on them.

Even in the darkness a gleam of hope burst on them; the wind sensibly
fell, and the clouds opening, exhibited a bright star above their heads.
Again the morning came.

"Lads, we must try and pump the vessel out!" cried Paul, rousing himself
with the first gleam of light.

The pumps without another word were manned; all hands set to work, and
in an hour a sensible diminution of the water in the vessel had taken
place.  This encouraged them to persevere; but at length, overcome with
fatigue, they had to throw themselves on their backs on the deck, to
regain their strength.  True Blue was the last to give in; but even he
had more than once to stop.  By and by they divided into two gangs, one
relieving the other at the pumps, while they alternately bailed with
buckets.  From sheer exhaustion they were compelled, after a time, to
knock off altogether; but they had so far rid the vessel of water that
there was no immediate fear of her sinking.

Before even they made a search for food, with considerable difficulty
they got up from below the bodies of their late shipmates, and, with a
sigh for their fate, launched them overboard.  Already they were no
longer to be distinguished by their features.

While getting up the dead bodies, a prize had been discovered.  It was a
small keg of water; it seemed to give, new life to all the party.  This
encouraged them to hunt for other things.  Some more onions and some
shaddocks were discovered, and in a tureen with the top on, a piece of
boiled beef.  They had now no fear of dying of starvation or thirst for
some time, at all events.

True Blue's chief anxiety was about Paul, who suffered far more than the
rest, on account of his wound; still nothing would induce him not to
exert himself as far as his strength would possibly allow.  The next day
after these occurrences, the sea went down so much that Paul determined
to get some sail on the vessel.

"How is it to be done, though?" asked Tom.  "We've no spars, sails, or
rigging."

"Hunt about, and let us see if we cannot find what will do," was Paul's
answer.

True Blue dived below, and soon discovered some rope, a large coil of
strong spun yarn, a fore-royal, and the bonnet of the jib, a palm, sail
needles and twine, and many other useful articles; and beside these, one
of the ship's compasses, True Blue's quadrant, given him by Sir Henry;
and also the larger part of a long sweep, and two small spars.
Curiously enough, also, a page of an old navigation book, with the sun's
declination for that very year.

The first thing to be done was to get sail on the craft.  Paul
thoroughly understood sail-making, and Tom was a good hand at it.  A
mast was formed out of the sweep and one of the spars, which was secured
to the stump of the foremast.  The canvas they had found was cut into a
gaff-sail, while the other spar served as the gaff.  It was but a small
sail, little larger than that of a frigate's launch; yet, with the wind
free, it served to give steerage way to the schooner, and to send her
along at the rate of three knots an hour.

All on board had reason to be thankful when once more they found their
vessel, which had so long seemed on the point of foundering, almost free
from water, and gliding smoothly over the sea.  Paul determined to
endeavour to reach Jamaica without touching at any other place.

All night they ran on.  Sometimes, however, the wind fell so much that
they only made a knot an hour; but still, as True Blue remarked, that
was something if it was in the right direction.

The want of food was a serious affair, and they resolved the next day to
have a grand hunt to try and discover some.  Both forward and aft there
was a great variety of casks, and bales, and packages, apparently taken
out of different vessels which had been captured.  As soon as the sun
rose, the search was commenced.  Another keg of water, found in the
forepeak, first rewarded their labours.  Some pine apples and other West
India fruits were discovered; but a sack of potatoes or a cask of
biscuits would have been more acceptable.

Though fitted for fighting, the schooner had also a hold for the stowage
of cargo, and here was discovered a considerable number of casks of
French wine.  Such a discovery as this wine among a set of unsteady men
would have been fatal, but to the present crew of the prize it was a
most valuable acquisition.  A bundle of salt fish and a cask of pork
were next hauled out; a cask of bread was also discovered, though much
damaged by salt water.  Altogether they were well satisfied with the
provisions they had discovered.

At noon an observation True Blue took showed that they had drifted a
considerable way to the southward, and that it might still take them a
long time to reach Jamaica.  The rudder also was found to be much
injured, the rudder-head being split through the centre, as low down as
the upper pintle.  It was with the greatest difficulty that it could be
kept together, or the tiller held in its place.  It was therefore very
evident that it would be necessary to husband the provisions and water
with the greatest care, as they could not expect to avoid having a long
voyage, and might be reduced to very short commons before the end of it.

For three days the weather was fine.  On the second day a spar floated
alongside, which they secured, and forthwith fitted as a mainmast; a
storm-jib which had been discovered was hoisted on it as a sail.  It
stood pretty well; and now, as the schooner moved with some liveliness
through the water, the spirits of all on board revived.

"Ah, now, if that poor Dane had borne up like a man and clung to the
ship, he might have been as well and happy as any of us," observed Tom
to Fid as they were together setting up the fore-rigging.  "Remember,
Tim, whatever happens, never despair.  It's wicked and unmanly--not like
a true British sailor; and that's what I hope you will consider yourself
all the days of your life."

Tom was, as it proved, over sanguine.  The following day, once more the
wind got up, as did the sea, and the helpless schooner lay battered and
knocked about by its fury.  The fractured rudder-head continually gave
way, and, it being impossible to keep the helm properly down, the vessel
fell off before the wind, and several heavy seas broke on board,
reducing her almost to the same condition in which she had been before.

For two whole days she lay tossed and buffeted; more of her bulwarks
were stove in, and the companion hatch received so tremendous a blow
from a sea that it was nearly carried away.  Had this occurred, the only
place of shelter in the vessel would have been destroyed.

During all this trying time, True Blue was the life and soul of the
little band.  Though others gave way, he kept up his spirits, and
cheered and endeavoured to animate them.  Even Paul desponded; but True
Blue was ever ready to offer some encouraging suggestion.  The gale soon
must cease--deliverance could not be far off.  This was the hurricane
season, when bad weather must be expected; and these gales were much
better than a regular hurricane, which would too probably send the
schooner to the bottom.

The gale came at last to an end, and comparatively fine weather
returned.  In spite of all their care, their provisions had by this time
sadly diminished, and the fruits and roots were entirely destroyed and
unfit for food.  They still had a supply of salt fish and abundance of
wine, and therefore they had no cause to fear dying of actual
starvation; but such food was anything but wholesome, and they would
gladly have exchanged the finest claret for half the quantity of pure
water and a supply of bread--even the hardest of sea biscuits.

Still, True Blue setting them the example, they made the best of
everything; and Paul took care that, as soon as the weather allowed
again of their moving about the deck, no one should be idle.  The French
ensign was still flying at the head of the foremast.  A lookout was
always kept for any sail which might heave in sight, that they might
steer so as to try and cut her off if possible.

One morning True Blue descried two sail on the weather bow.  They
appeared, when the sun rose, to be standing towards the vessel.  The
hopes of all on board rose high.  The strangers were pronounced to be
English merchantmen by the cut of their sails and general appearance.
They bore down till within the distance of three miles or so, and then
suddenly hauled their wind, and stood off again under all sail.

Of course this unaccountable conduct met with no small amount of
complaint, if not of abuse.  Even Paul Pringle could not help saying,
"If the fellows had no intention of helping us, why did they not stand
on their proper course, without bearing down to disappoint us?"

Some hours afterwards, he suddenly struck his forehead with the palm of
his hand, and exclaimed, "Why didn't I think of that before!  Of course
it's that Frenchman's flag.  I ought to have known that it could never
have brought us good.  The masters of these vessels evidently thought
that the craft was still a French privateer, and that the Monsieurs were
playing them off some trick in the hope of catching them.  We'll not
carry the flag any longer.  Haul it down, True Blue."

More anxiously even than at first, all on board kept a lookout for a
sail.  Several more days passed, and on each they were doomed to
disappointment.  Tim Fid had the lookout one morning at daybreak.  Those
asleep were roused up by his voice shouting, "A sail! a sail!--not three
miles to windward of us.  We must be seen.  Hurrah!"

Paul crawled on deck and took a look at the stranger, a large brig with
taut masts and square yards.  "Yes, Tim, there is a sail," he said
slowly.  "She is either a man-of-war or a privateer; but from the cut of
her sails, she is French.  For my part, I would sooner remain on the
wreck than be shut up in a French prison."

All hands expressed the same opinion; but how to avoid being compelled
to go on board the brig was the question.  The stranger soon espied the
schooner and bore down upon her.  Paul eyed the approaching brig with
anything but looks of affection, when, as she drew near, who should be
seen on the poop but Sir Henry Elmore and Mr Nott, while forward were
several of the _Gannet's_ crew.

She hove to; a boat was sent on board, which conveyed Paul to the brig.
All that had occurred was soon explained.  The brig was a privateer,
captured after a smart action, and Sir Henry had been put in charge to
carry her to Jamaica.  He now took the prize in tow, and sent some fresh
hands on board to relieve those who had suffered so much in her.

In four days they arrived at Port Royal; and Paul and his companions
obtained the greatest credit for the way in which they had fought one
privateer and preserved their own prize from destruction.



CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE.

The brig which had been captured by the _Gannet_ was a fine new vessel,
mounting sixteen guns, and almost a match for the _Gannet_ herself.  Mr
Digby, the first lieutenant of the corvette, had been so severely
wounded that he was compelled to go home invalided.  Sir Henry Elmore
had much distinguished himself; and the Admiral on the Jamaica station,
who wished to promote him, gave him an acting order as commander of the
prize, which, under the name of the _Rover_ was added to the Navy.  As
soon as Sir Henry had commissioned the brig, he sent for True Blue.

"Freeborn," he said, "I think that I can at once obtain an appointment
for you which will suit your wishes.  If you will accept it, I will get
the Admiral to give you an acting order as boatswain of the _Rover_, and
you can then take out your warrant as soon as you reach England for a
still higher rate.  What do you say?"

The look of intense satisfaction which lighted up True Blue's
countenance assured Sir Henry that his offer would be accepted, and made
him shrewdly suspect that an object beyond the rank of boatswain
depended on it.

"Thank you, Sir Henry, thank you," he answered.  "If Paul Pringle says
yes, so do I; and if Peter Ogle doesn't say no, I think that it will be
all right."

"But what has Peter Ogle to do with the matter?" inquired Sir Henry,
trying to be grave.

"Why, you see, Sir Henry, he's Mary's father, and it wouldn't be right
or shipshape to marry without his leave."

"Oh, I see," replied Sir Henry, who had suspected all along how matters
stood.  "You have agreed with Mary Ogle to marry her as soon as you are
a boatswain; and as you did not expect to become one for some time to
come, you do not think it would be right `to steal a march,' as the
soldiers say, on her father, and accept the appointment without
consulting him."

"That's just it, Sir Henry," answered True Blue with his usual
frankness.  "Peter knows I want to marry his daughter, and that Mary is
ready to marry me; and of course Paul knows it too, and, moreover, says
that I might search the world around and not find a better wife; and
that I know right well.  But then, you see, Sir Henry, I expected, and
so did they, that I should have to go out to the East Indies, or round
the world maybe, before I should be able to get my warrant; and so I am
taken all aback, as it were, with joy and pleasure, and I do thank you
from my heart--that I do."

"All right, Freeborn!" exclaimed Sir Henry with evident pleasure, and
putting out his hand.  "I wish you all happiness from my heart.  We must
take care to pick up a good supply of prize-money, to help you to set up
housekeeping; and all I bargain for is, that you invite me to the
wedding."

"Ay, that I will, Sir Henry, and a right hearty welcome we'll give you,"
was the answer.

Paul Pringle and Peter Ogle yielded their very willing consent to True
Blue's acceptance of the offer made him, and he came, highly delighted,
to tell Sir Henry, who did not suppose that there would be any doubt
about the matter.

"I thought it would be so," he said, handing the newly made boatswain a
handsome silver call and chain.  "You will wear this, Freeborn, for my
sake; and, not to lose time, I have already got your appointment.  Mr
Nott has also got an acting order as second lieutenant, and Captain
Brine has spared me Tom Marline, Hartland, and Fid, so that you will
have several old shipmates with you.  The rest of the crew we must make
up as best we can.  Marline will be a quartermaster; are either of the
others fit for petty officers?"

"Well, sir, Hartland is fit for anything, I'll say that of him; and so
would Fid be, if he was more steady and had some education; but though
there is not a fellow I would more trust to in a scrimmage, or to have
at my back when boarding an enemy, he can't depend on himself, if
there's any mischief under weigh, and that's the worst of him."

"Well, then, I'll make Fid boatswain's mate, and then you can have an
eye on him, and keep him in order.  As to Hartland, he has been very
steady ever since I have known him, some six years or more.  What say
you, if we get him an appointment as acting gunner?  He is as well
fitted for the duties as any man I can put my hand on."

"That he is, Sir Henry!" exclaimed True Blue warmly.  "There isn't a man
in the service you can more depend on in every way than Harry Hartland,
and there isn't one I would rather have as a brother officer, for we
have, as it were, been brothers ever since he came to sea."

So it was arranged; and Harry Hartland found himself, beyond his most
sanguine expectations, appointed as acting gunner of the _Rover_.

The refitting of the _Rover_ progressed rapidly, while, by degrees, a
number of very fair seamen were picked up.  She still wanted more than a
third of her number, when the _Gannet_ received orders to return to
England, and Captain Brine allowed those of his crew who wished to do so
to volunteer for the brig.  Here would be evidence whether or not Sir
Henry Elmore and his second lieutenant, and especially his two young
warrant-officers, were popular with their late shipmates.

On the offer being made them, nearly every man on board volunteered for
the _Rover_.  Only thirty, however, were allowed to go; but they were
all prime hands, with the exception of Sam Smatch, whose love for True
Blue overcame every other consideration.

"Ah, Mr Freeborn, I come wid you, you see," he said, stepping on board
the brig.  "I no call you Billy now, 'cause you great officer, and right
glad to see you; but so I officer very great too.  Ship's cook.  If the
crew not eat, what become of dem?"

Sam, who was a sheet or two in the wind,--that is to say, not as sober
as he should have been,--was winking and smiling all the time he was
speaking, as if he wished True Blue to understand that though he was
fully aware of the change in their relative positions, his feelings of
affection towards him were in no way altered.  One volunteer most of his
old shipmates would willingly have seen return home; but, like a bad
shilling, he turned up when least wanted.  When the _Gannet_ sailed,
Gregory Gipples had by some mischance been left on shore, and, meeting
Sir Henry, he begged so strenuously to be taken on board the _Rover_,
and promised so earnestly to reform in all respects, that the young
commander undertook to give him a trial.

This was the first time in his life that True Blue had been parted,
beyond a few days, from Paul Pringle.  They both felt the separation
more than they ventured to express or exhibit to their shipmates; but,
as they knew that it was inevitable, they bore it like brave men, each
confident that absence would not diminish the affection which reigned in
their hearts.

Away sailed the _Rover_ for a cruise on the Spanish main, famed in days
of yore as the locality where the richest prizes were to be picked up.
Even Sir Henry Elmore, whose income was, for his rank, somewhat limited,
had no objection to the chance offered of obtaining a stock of
prize-money; and his officers and crew, including True Blue, looked
forward to the prospect with infinite satisfaction.

The brig had been out of Port Royal about a week, when six sail were
discovered to leeward, and proved to be a ship, with four brigs and a
schooner.  They continued their course till the _Rover_ got near enough
to allow her commander to see that the schooner and one of the brigs
each carried sixteen guns, and that another carried six.

They, on discovering that the _Rover_ was English, showed French
colours, and drew close together, as if prepared to engage.

"I know, my lads, that you'll wish to take some of these vessels," said
the commander, as he gave the order to bear down upon the enemy.

The schooner, on this, immediately made the signal to all the vessels to
disperse in different directions, while she herself stood away under all
the sail she could carry.

The _Rover_ made chase, and after three hours came up with the ship and
the largest brig, both of which struck without firing a shot.  They
proved to be prizes to the schooner, a French privateer, said to be one
of the fastest vessels in those seas, and, from the number of prizes she
had taken, one of the most successful cruisers.

"Fast as she may be," exclaimed Sir Henry, "we will do our best to take
her!"

From the prisoners he learned, also, that she not only carried sixteen
guns, full as heavy as those of the _Rover_, but a crew of not less than
a hundred and fifty men.  The ship and brig having prize crews put on
board them, were sent back to Jamaica, and the _Rover_ continued her
chase of the schooner.  She kept her in sight, running to the southward,
till Sir Henry felt satisfied that the vessels he had recaptured were
safe, and then, night coming on, she was hid from sight.

When morning broke not a sail was to be seen.  Soon after noon, however,
land was discovered ahead, and in an hour afterwards a schooner hove in
sight.  As the _Rover_ drew near, she hoisted Spanish colours, and,
evidently soon suspecting the brig's character, put up her helm, and ran
before the wind towards the coast.

It was soon seen that she was not the privateer they were in search of.
On she went, till she ran right on shore.  The _Rover_ on this,
shortening sail, hauled her wind, and two boats being lowered, under
command of Mr Nott, True Blue having charge of one of them, pulled in
to ascertain whether she could be got off.  The Spaniards, as they
approached, fired a volley at them, and then, abandoning the vessel,
pulled through the surf on shore.  The schooner was immediately boarded,
set on fire in every direction; and the English, driving the Spaniards
from the boat, waited till she burned to the water's edge, and the sea,
breaking over her, extinguished the flames.

This necessary though unsatisfactory work having been accomplished, the
_Rover_ made sail along the coast.

Two days afterwards, as she lay becalmed under the land, a schooner,
having long sweeps at work, and three gunboats, were seen making for the
_Rover_.  The schooner was large, full of men, and carried a number of
guns, and with the aid of the gunboats, should the calm continue, would,
it was very evident, prove a formidable opponent to the English brig.
Still, as usual, her crew were eager for battle; and as they went to
their guns, they laughed and cut their jokes as heartily as ever.  Of
course, Gipples came in for his ordinary share of quizzing.  Fid was the
chief quizzer; but he had got several others to join him in making a
butt of Gregory.

"I say, mates, did you ever hear what the savages on that shore out
there do when they take any prisoners?" he began, winking to some of his
shipmates.  "They cuts them up just like sheep, and eats them.  I've
heard say, that as you walks the streets, you'll see dozens of fellows
sometimes, tarry breeches and all, hanging up in the butchers' shops.
There was the whole crew of the _Harpy_ sloop, taken off here, treated
in that way--that I know of to a certainty.  The Captain was a very fat
man, so his flesh fetched twice as much a pound as the others; and when
they served him up at dinner, they ornamented the dish with his epaulets
and the gold lace off his coat."

Gipples opened his eyes very wide, and did not at all like the
description.

Fid continued, "I hope, if they take us, they won't serve us in the same
way; but there's no saying.  We'll fight to the last; but all these
gunboats and that big schooner are great odds against our little brig.
Maybe Sir Henry would rather blow up the brig and all on board.  I hope
as how he will, and so we will disappoint the cannibals."

While Tim Fid and his companions were running on with this sort of
nonsense, poor Gipples wishing that he was anywhere but on board the
_Rover_, the enemy were gradually stealing out towards her.

True Blue saw that the contest, if carried on in a calm, would be a very
severe one, and anxiously looked out for the signs of a breeze.  As the
schooner drew near, it was clear that she was the French privateer of
which they were in search.

"We must take her somehow or other, there's no doubt about that,"
thought True Blue.  "We have got some long sweeps; we'll get these all
ready to rig out as soon as she comes near to lay her on board.  I'll
hear what the Captain has to say to the idea."

The boatswain on this went as near aft as etiquette would allow, knowing
that the Captain would call him up and talk to him about the approaching
conflict.  Sir Henry had himself intended to board the enemy, but
feared, from their being so close in under the land, that before the
contest was over the vessels might drift on shore.

The sweeps were, however, got ready.  Just then a light air from off the
land sprang up, and the brig, making all sail, stood away from it--much,
probably, to the satisfaction of her enemies, who fancied that her crew
were afraid of fighting, and that, should they come up with her, she
would prove an easy conquest.  They began, therefore, briskly firing
their bow-guns at the _Rover_, a compliment which she as warmly returned
with her after-guns.

The breeze dying away, the sweeps were got out, and the _Rover_ still
kept ahead of her pursuers.  All her guns were loaded with round and
small shot; and a warm fire was kept up from her deck with muskets and
pistols at the schooner which followed in her wake, her stern being
kept, by means of the sweeps, directly towards the enemy.  One of the
gunboats had dropped astern, but the other two kept close to her.

A Spanish officer on board the schooner now ordered the gunboats to
board the brig, the schooner herself giving signs that she was about to
do the same.  Sir Henry watched carefully to ascertain in what way they
were about to attack the brig.  The schooner kept off a little, and then
showed that she was about to board on the starboard quarter, while the
gunboats pulled for her larboard quarter and bow.

Sir Henry waited till the schooner and gunboats had got within about
fifteen yards of the brig; then, with the sweeps on the larboard side,
he rapidly pulled her round, so as to bring her starboard broadside to
bear athwart the schooner's bow.

"Now, lads, give it them!" he shouted, and the whole broadside of the
brig, with round and grape shot, was poured into the schooner's bows,
now crowded with men ready to board, raking her fore and aft, and
killing numbers of them.  The _Rover_'s crew instantly rushed over to
the other side and swept her round; then, manning the larboard guns,
raked both the gunboats in the same manner.

The shrieks and cries of the wounded showed the damage which had been
done, the Spanish boats backing their oars, as if not wishing to renew
the contest.

A voice from the schooner, however, ordered them to come on, while she
kept firing away, though with somewhat abated energy.  The crews of the
Spanish boats having somewhat recovered their courage, once more
returned to the attack; but the _Rover_'s guns kept them from again
attempting to board.  Now and then they retired, and whenever they did
so she pulled round, and again brought her broadside to bear on the bows
of the schooner.

Thus for nearly an hour and a half was the contest carried on, when a
light breeze sprang up, which placed the schooner to windward.

True Blue hurried aft.  "If we back our headsails, Sir Henry, we shall
run stern on the enemy, and may then carry her by boarding!" he
exclaimed.

"Right, boatswain," was the answer.  "Boarders, away!--follow me!"

The manoeuvre was quickly performed.  With a crash the brig's stern ran
against the schooner's side, and before the enemy knew what the English
seamen were about, they, led by their gallant young Captain, who was
closely followed by True Blue, had leaped on her deck and were driving
all before them.

A tall French officer, evidently a first-rate swordsman, stood his
ground, and rallied a party round him.  He encountered Sir Henry, who,
attacked by another Frenchman, was on the point of being cut down, when
True Blue with his trusty cutlass came to his aid, and turned the fury
of the Frenchman against himself.

There was science against strength and pluck.  True Blue saw that all
ordinary rules of defence and attack must be let aside; so, throwing up
the Frenchman's sword with a back stroke of his cutlass, he sprang in on
him, seized him by the throat, and, as he pushed him back, with another
cut brought him to the deck.

The loss of their champion still more disheartened the French, who now
gave way fore and aft.  Numbers had been cut down--some jumped
overboard, but the greater portion ran below and sang out lustily for
quarter.

Strange to say, not a man of the _Rover_ was hurt, while nearly fifty
Frenchmen and Spaniards were killed and wounded.

The moment the schooner's flag was hauled down, the Spanish boats made
off; nor did they stop till they had disappeared within some harbour on
the coast.

"I suppose," said Gipples, looking at the swarthy Spanish soldiers with
no friendly eye, "though these chaps may have liked to eat us if they
had caught us, we ain't obliged to eat them."

"That will be as the Captain likes," answered Tim Fid.  "Perhaps he'll
not think them wholesome at this time of the year, and let them go."

A very few days were sufficient to refit the _Rover_, and to store and
provision her ready for sea.  This time, however, she was ordered to
cruise along the coasts of San Domingo and Porto Rico, towards the
Leeward Islands.

At length she ran farther south, and came off the harbour of
Point-a-Pitre, in the Island of Guadaloupe.

The time allowed for the cruise was very nearly expired, and Sir Henry
was naturally desirous of doing something more than had yet been
accomplished.  The saucy little English brig poked her nose close into
the French harbour one morning, and there discovered several vessels at
anchor close under a strong fort.

"We must be on the watch for some of these gentlemen when they come out,
and capture them," thought Sir Henry as the brig steered away again from
the land.

True Blue had, however, fixed his eye on a French gun-brig which lay the
outermost of all the vessels, and which he thought, by a bold dash,
might be carried off.

"It can be done--I know it can, and I will ask the Captain," he said to
himself.  "Harry will join me, and I will have Tim Fid and a good set of
staunch men.  With two boats and thirty men, we could do it; but if Sir
Henry will give us another boat, so much the better."

Sir Henry, consenting to his proposal, allowed him three boats, and
promised to run in that very night, should the weather prove favourable,
that he might carry out his object.

The boatswain had no difficulty in obtaining all the volunteers he
required for his enterprise, and the rest of the day was spent in making
the necessary preparations.

Towards evening the brig once more stood back in the direction of
Point-a-Pitre.  She reached the mouth of the harbour about midnight,
when True Blue and his bold followers shoved off.  He had an eight-oared
cutter, carrying sixteen men in all; the remainder were in two boats--
one under command of the gunner, the other of Tom Marline.  Tim Fid was
with True Blue.

The night was pitch dark, but a light in the harbour showed them in what
direction to steer.  The cutter soon got ahead of the other boats, and,
as True Blue was anxious to get on board before he was discovered by the
French, he kept on without waiting for them.

True Blue was well aware of the dangerous character of the enterprise on
which he was engaged.  The brig would not have been placed where she was
unless she had been well armed and manned; and as the _Rover_ had been
perceived in the morning, in all probability her crew would be on the
alert and ready to receive them.  Still he knew well what daring courage
could effect, and he had every hope of success.

The mouth of the harbour was reached, and up it the boats rapidly but
silently pulled.  There were two or three lights seen glimmering in the
forts, and a few in the town farther off; but none were shown on board
any of the vessels, and True Blue began to hope that the enemy were not
expecting an attack.

True Blue stood up and peered earnestly through the obscurity.

"There she is, lads!" he exclaimed in a low voice.  "Starboard a
little--that will do; we will board under her quarter.  Stand by to hook
on.  Second division, do not leave the boat till we have gained a
footing on the deck.  Now, lads, follow me."

True Blue expected when he leaped down to find himself on the deck, with
his arms free to use his cutlass with advantage.  Instead of that, he
discovered that he had fallen into a net spread out over the quarter to
dry.  Here he could neither stand nor use his weapon, and in this
position a Frenchman thrust a pike towards him, which wounded him in the
thigh.  Happily he got his cutlass sufficiently at liberty to cut the
net.  Then he dropped once more into the boat, into which he found that
Tim Fid and the rest of the men had been thrust back, several severely
wounded.

It would never do, however, thus to give up the enterprise; so, in a low
voice telling the men to haul the boat farther ahead, he once more
sprang up over the brig's bulwarks.  Most of the Frenchmen, fancying
that the attacking boat was still there, had rushed aft.

The clash of British cutlasses, and the flash of pistols in the waist,
quickly brought them back again.  True Blue, Fid, and two or three more
stood on the bulwarks, bravely attempting to make good their footing;
but one after the other, and as many more as came up, were hurled back
headlong, some into the water, and others into the boat, till True Blue
stood by himself, opposed to the whole French crew.

Undaunted even then he kept them at bay with his rapidly whirling
cutlass, till those who had fallen overboard had had time to climb into
the boat; then he shouted, "All hands aboard the French brig!"

"Ay, ay," was the answer, "we'll be with you, bo'sun.  True Blue for
ever!  Hurrah!"

Once more the undaunted seamen, in spite of cuts and slashes, and broken
heads, were climbing up the brig's sides.  Fid was the first who joined
True Blue, in time to save him from an awkward thrust of a
boarding-pike; and, dragging it out of the hands of the Frenchman who
held it, he leaped with it down on the deck.  A few sweeps of True
Blue's cutlass cleared a space sufficient to enable more of his party to
join him; and these driving the Frenchmen still farther back, all the
boat's crew at last gained the brig's deck.  The Frenchmen now fought
more fiercely than before, and muskets and pistols and pikes were
opposed to the British cutlasses; but the weapons of cold steel proved
the most effective.

On the British went.  Some of the enemy jumped overboard, the rest
leaped into the cabins, or threw down their weapons and cried for
quarter.  The after part of the vessel was gained.  A group on the
forecastle still held out.  Another furious charge was made.  Just then
loud huzzas announced the arrival of the other two boats, and Harry
Hartland and Tom Marline, with their followers, climbing up the sides,
quickly cleared the forecastle.

The Frenchmen who had escaped below were ordered to be quiet, and
sentries, with muskets pointed down, were stationed to keep them so.

The boats were once more manned and sent ahead, the cables were cut,
and, amid a shower of shot from the forts, the gallantly-won brig was
towed out of the harbour.  Several other vessels were seen to be
slipping their cables to come in chase; but just then a light air came
down the harbour, which those nearer the shore did not feel.  Hands were
sent aloft to loosen the brig's sails.  On she glided, increasing her
speed; the boats towed rapidly ahead, but the work became lighter and
lighter every instant.

"Hurrah! we have gained her, and shall keep her!" was the cry on board
the prize.

However, they were not yet quite out of the enemy's harbour.  The shot
from the forts came whizzing along after the prize; and though, as not a
light was shown on board her, the gunners could not aim very correctly,
the missiles reached as far or farther than she then was,--now on one
side, now on the other, and sometimes nearly over her.

True Blue occasionally looked aft.  Through the darkness he now
distinguished two vessels standing after him.  The breeze had increased.
He called the boats alongside, and ordered the crews on board.
Pointing out the vessels astern, "Lads," he said, "we may still have to
fight for our prize: but I am sure that you will defend her to the
last."

"That we will, bo'sun--that we will, never fear," was the cheerful
answer.

The guns were found to be loaded, and the Frenchmen had got up a supply
of powder and shot to defend their vessel when True Blue and his
companions so unceremoniously cut short their proceedings.  In case an
action should be fought, it was necessary to secure both the French
officers and seamen.  Harry Hartland was charged with this duty.  On
going below, he found that not an officer had escaped without a wound;
some had been hurt very severely.  Fortunately an assistant-surgeon was
on board, able to look after them.  Harry placed a sentry in the
gunroom, with orders to shoot the first man who made the slightest sign
of revolting; while he stationed a couple more over the crew, with
directions to treat them in the same way.

The two vessels were getting very near; so was the mouth of the harbour.
Not far outside True Blue knew that he should find the _Rover_.  On
they came.  He luffed across the bows of one, and poured in a broadside;
then he treated the other in the same way, and directly afterwards, with
a slashing breeze, dashed out of the harbour.  In a quarter of an hour
he was up to the _Rover_, and right hearty were the cheers with which he
was received; for the constant firing had made Sir Henry fear that the
boats were pursued, and that the enterprise had failed.

The two vessels now stood away under all sail from the land.

"I have known many brave actions," said Sir Henry, when on the next day
True Blue presented himself before his Captain, "but I assure you,
Freeborn, none exceeds the one you have just performed in dash or
gallantry.  You have still, I am certain, the road to the higher ranks
of our noble profession open to you, if you will but accept the first
step."

"Thank you, Sir Henry," answered True Blue modestly; "I have just done
my duty.  My mind is made up about the matter.  I wished to take the
craft, just to show that I deserved your good opinion of me; and perhaps
it may help somewhat to confirm me in my rank as bo'sun, and if it does,
I shall be well content."



CHAPTER TWENTY SIX.

Peace--known as the Peace of Amiens--was concluded in 1801; and though
England called in her cruisers, prohibiting them any longer to burn,
sink, and destroy those of her enemies, she wisely declined drawing her
own teeth or cutting her claws, by dismantling her ships and disbanding
her crews, but, like a good-natured lion, crouched down, wagging her
tail and sucking her paws, while, turning her eyes round and round, she
carefully watched the turn affairs were likely to take.

Never had more ships been seen arriving day after day at Spithead, and
never had Portsmouth Harbour been fuller of others fitting and refitting
for sea, or its streets more crowded with seamen laughing, dancing,
singing, and committing all sorts of extravagances, and flinging their
well-earned money about with the most reckless prodigality.

About this time, while Portsmouth was in the heyday of its uproarious
prosperity, and prize-money was as plentiful as blackberries in summer,
a man-of-war's eight-oared cutter was seen pulling in from Spithead, and
then, entering the harbour, making for the Gosport shore.  There was
nothing unusual in this, or rather it was an event not only of daily but
of hourly occurrence.

There were two officers in the sternsheets; but their simple uniform
showed that they were not of any high rank, though the crew paid them
the most profound respect.  They were young men, though beards,
pigtails, and lovelocks, with thoroughly weatherbeaten, sunburnt
countenances, made them look somewhat older.  One had a silver chain
round his neck, with a call or whistle attached to it, which showed that
he was a boatswain.

As they stepped on shore, the crew threw up their oars, and with one
voice shouted, "We wish you every happiness--that we do, sir, from our
hearts!  Three cheer for the boatswain!  Hip! hip! hip! hurrah!"

"Thank you, lads," said the young boatswain, turning round with a
pleasant smile on his countenance.  "We have served long and happily
together, and done some things to be proud of; and I tell you that I
would rather be boatswain of such a crew as you are, than Captain of
many I have fallen in with.  Come up here and have a parting glass!  I
know that I can trust you to go back to the ship, as you promised; for
it's one of many things to be proud of, to be able to say that we never
knew a man to run from our ship."

The two warrant-officers were accompanied by an old black man with a
wooden leg, who stumped along, aided by a stick, as fast as they could
walk; while a couple of seamen followed with huge painted canvas bags on
their shoulders, and various foreign-looking things hung about outside.
They themselves carried a couple of birdcages and two parrots; and a
mischievous-looking monkey sat on the black's shoulder, another parrot
being perched on the top of his hat, and a fiddle-case hung over his
neck.  They soon got out of Gosport into the country.

"Stay, Harry!" said the elder of the officers; "Paul wrote that we were
to steer west by north, and that if we stood on under easy sail for half
a glass, we should just fetch Paradise Row.  Now here we are, with the
sun right astern; let's have the proper bearings of the place."

True Blue--for he was the young boatswain who had been speaking--looked
at the sun, and then, turning himself round, in a few seconds seemed to
make up his mind that they were proceeding in the right direction.

"I feel uncommonly inclined to set more canvas; and yet we mustn't quit
our convoy," he remarked as he moved on.

"No, that wouldn't do," answered his friend, Harry Hartland.  "Come,
heave ahead, my hearties!" he added, looking back at the seamen carrying
the bags; "and you, Sam, shall we lend you a leg, old boy?"

"Tank'ee, gunner--a grand new cork one, if you like!" answered Sam,
grinning and chuckling at his joke; "but ye see my timber one will serve
me, I tink, till I'm laid under hatches.  But I no wonder Billy in a
hurry to go along--ha! ha! ha!  I call de fine grand bo'sun Billy now
again, jes as I did when he was one little chap aboard de old
_Terrible_.  We off service, you know!  I once more free man!  Out-door
Greenwich pensioner!  What more I want?--plenty to eat, nothing to do!
I go wid you and play at your wedding, True Blue--ha! ha! ha!  Fancy I,
Sam Smatch, play at Billy True's wedding--once little chap born aboard
de _Terrible_, and often nurse in de old nigger's arms."

"And right glad I am to have you by me, Sam," answered True Blue,
looking kindly at the negro.  "You took good care of me--that I'm sure
of--when I was a baby, and we've weathered many a storm together since
in all parts of the world.  There's scarcely a friend I should be more
sorry to miss at my wedding than you, if wedding there is to be; but it
is so long since I heard from home, that who can tell what has
happened?"

"Ah, yes--Mary Ogle gone and married some oder sailor maybe!  Dat is
what dey petticoat women often do," said Sam with a wink, sticking his
thumb towards the boatswain's ribs.

"No, no.  No fear of that, at all events!" exclaimed True Blue
vehemently.  "You didn't suppose that I meant that.  But how can we tell
that all our friends are alive and well?" he said gravely, and was
silent for a minute.  "However," he added in a cheerful tone, "I have no
fears that all will be right, and that, before many evenings are over,
we shall have you fingering your fiddlestick as merrily as ever."

So they went on, cheerfully talking as they proceeded towards Paradise
Row, which, in truth, True Blue hoped would prove a Paradise to him; for
there, since Paul, and Abel, and Peter, had become warrant-officers,
their respective families had come to reside, to be near them when they
came into port.

They, however, had now charge of different ships in ordinary; and as
they had all gone through a great deal of service, they did not expect
to be again sent to sea.

Old Mrs Pringle was still alive and well when True Blue had last heard
from home, and to her house he and his shipmates were now bound.  Still,
as they went along, True Blue could not help looking into all the
windows of the various cottages they passed, just to ascertain if that
was the one inhabited by his dear old granny or not.

At last he turned to Harry.  "I think, mate, we have run our distance,"
he observed; "we ought to be in the latitude of Paradise Row by this
time.  I'll just step up to that pretty little cottage there and ask.
Here, Harry, just hold Chatterbox, please."

Suiting the action to the word, having given his parrot to his friend,
up to the cottage he went.  It had a porch in front of it, covered with
jasmine, and a neat verandah, and was altogether a very tasty though
unpretending little abode.  He rapped at the door with a
strangely-carved shark's tooth which he held in his hand.  After waiting
a little time, the door was opened, and, without looking directly at the
person who opened it, he began, "Please, marm, does Mrs Pringle live
hereabouts?"  Then, suddenly he was heard to exclaim, "What--it is--
Mary, Mary!"

What more he said his friends did not hear, for the door was nearly
closed as he sprang into the house.  However, both Harry and Sam were
very discreet people, and they had heard enough to show them that their
presence could easily be dispensed with; so, as there was a nice grassy
bank under a widespreading tree, they, with the two seamen carrying the
bags, and the monkey and the parrots, went and sat down there to wait
till the boatswain might recollect that there were such beings in
existence.

Harry felt very glad that his friend was likely to be so happy, and old
Sam amused himself with scratching the monkey's head, making him hang by
his tail, and jump over his own wooden leg, while the seamen went to
sleep with their heads on the bags.  Sam was the first to grow tired of
his amusement, and, getting up, he stumped up towards the cottage and
peeped over the neat white blind of the front window.

He came back grinning and chuckling.  "All right," he said.  "Him bery
happy--no tink of us yet, I guess."

Whether or not the apparition of Sam's black visage had been seen does
not appear; but in a short time True Blue came to the door of the
cottage, looking as happy and lighthearted as a fellow could look, and,
hailing his friends, asked them to step in.

Mrs Ogle was there, and Mary, and a younger sister very like her; but
Peter was aboard his ship, a seventy-four, in Portsmouth Harbour; and
Mary and her sister, and their mother, shook hands heartily with Sam,
because he was an old acquaintance, and with Harry, because he was True
Blue's brother officer.  And then True Blue told Harry that Mrs Ogle
could put him up, and would be right glad to do so; and then that he
could take Sam to Mrs Pringle's, so that they should have him always to
play to them; which were very pleasant arrangements, and seemed to give
infinite satisfaction to all parties concerned.  It was extraordinary
how long it took to get under weigh again; but at last True Blue, with
his bags and some of his treasures, did find his way to his adopted
grandmother's, and a warm welcome did the dear old lady give him, and
did not scold him in the least for inquiring first at Mrs Ogle's where
she lived, seeing that he did not know when he went to the door that it
was Mrs Ogle's.

Sam and the monkey, and two of the parrots, with the cage birds, took up
their residence at Mrs Pringle's.  True Blue, accompanied by Harry,
paid a visit to Mrs Bush and her family; and the whole party assembled,
as they had done several years before, at Mrs Ogle's, which had
certainly the handsomest room in it, and Sam Smatch brought his fiddle;
and a very merry evening they had, the only drawback being that the
three elder warrant-officers were unable to be present, as their duties
kept them on board their ships.

They had tea and cakes, and bread and butter, and preserves, and
water-cresses; and then Sam screwed up his fiddle, and to work went his
bow, his head nodding and his timber toe beating time, while he played
the merriest of all merry country-dances and the most vehement of
hornpipes.

True Blue had not danced a hornpipe for many a long year,--it would not
have been dignified while he was a boatswain,--but he had not forgotten
how to do so.  That he very soon showed, to the satisfaction of all
present, especially to that of Mary, and not a little to that of Sam
Smatch, who, in defiance of all the rules of etiquette, kept shouting,
"Bravo, Billy--well done, Billy--keep at it, boy!  I taught him, dat I
did--dat's it.  I played de first tune to him he ever danced to.  Bravo,
Billy!  You do my heart good--dat you do.  Hurray! hurray!  Billy True
Blue for ever in dancing a hornpipe!"

As the dancing could not last all the evening, the parrots and the
monkey and a considerable portion of the contents of the bags were
brought in to be exhibited, and, as it proved, to be distributed among
the owner's old friends.

True Blue had given his cage full of birds to Mrs Pringle, as he knew
she would prize it; he had, however, gifts especially brought for Mrs
Bush and all her family, as well as for Mrs Ogle, and for several other
friends not so intimately related to him as they were; and he found that
they were the means of affording infinite satisfaction to all parties.

The first thing the next morning, after breakfast, the young
warrant-officers set off to pay their respects to the three old
warrant-officers in Portsmouth Harbour, on board the _Jupiter_, _Lion_,
and _Portland_, seventy-fours.

Paul Pringle was, of course, the first visited, His pipe was shrilly
sounding as ponderous yards and coils of rope and casks and guns and
gun-carriages and other innumerable fittings and gear of a ship were
being hoisted up and lowered into lighters alongside, to convey them to
the dockyard.  His delight at seeing True Blue as he stepped on deck was
so great that he forgot to pipe "Belay," and a twenty-four pounder would
have been run up to the yardarm had not his godson instinctively
supplied the omission with his own pipe, though, when Harry afterwards
informed him of the fact, he was not in the slightest degree aware that
he had done so.

As Paul was then so very busy, they promised to return at dinner time,
and went on to see Peter Ogle.  It was remarked, however, that Paul did
not for the remainder of the forenoon carry on his duties with his usual
exactness, and seemed far more elated and excitable than was his wont.

Peter Ogle's pleasure at seeing True Blue was only surpassed by that of
Paul.  He received his old friends in his cabin, which, as True Blue
glanced round it, showed that a considerable amount of feminine taste
had been exercised in its adornment.

"Make yourselves at home, my lads--brother officers, I should say,
though," he said, glancing at their uniforms, "It is a pleasure to see
you, Billy, my dear boy, and you too, Harry, though I haven't known you
by some fifteen years or more so long as True Blue.  Boy, bring glasses.
Here's some real honest schiedam, taken out of a Dutch prize.  Help
yourselves.  You neither of you are topers, I know; so much the better.
And now let's hear what you've been about since I last clapped eyes on
you."

True Blue on this gave a rapid account of their doings in the _Rover_
after the _Gannet_ had sailed for England, and of numerous adventures
which had subsequently befallen them before they once more returned
home.

After a visit paid to Abel Bush, who welcomed them home as cordially as
their other old friends had done, they returned to dine with Paul
Pringle.

"And, True Blue, my boy, how soon is it to come off?" inquired Paul when
dinner was over.  "Have you asked Mary to fix the day yet?"

"No, godfather; I thought she might rather wish to wait a bit, and so I
wasn't going to ask her for a day or two," answered True Blue
ingenuously.

"Don't put it off, lad," said Paul.  "When a sailor meets a girl to
love, the shorter the wooing and the sooner he weds the better.  How
does he know what moment he may have to heave up his anchor and make
sail round the world again?"

True Blue very willingly promised to follow his godfather's advice; and
Harry, who was listening attentively, thought it excellent.  As may be
supposed, before the evening was over, the day was settled for True
Blue's wedding with Mary Ogle; and before a week had passed, Harry
announced that her sister Susan had fixed the same day to marry him.

Close to Mrs Ogle's residence was a barn of large dimensions; it was
not a picturesque building, but the floor was smooth, and that was all
they required.  In a wonderfully short space of time, with the aid of
flags innumerable, wreaths of flowers, and painted canvas, it was
converted into a most elegant edifice, fit for a ball or supper room.
The morning of True Blue's wedding day arrived, and up to Dame Pringle's
door drove a postchaise with four horses, out of which stepped Sir Henry
Elmore, now, as his full-dress uniform showed, a Post-Captain.  He shook
hands right cordially with True Blue and all his friends, and the bells
of the parish church at that moment set up so merry and joyous a peal
that it was evident the ringers believed that it was an occasion of much
happiness.

Carriages sufficient to carry all the party now began to collect in the
neighbourhood of Paradise Row; and Sam Smatch and Tom Marline, both of
whom had got leave to come on shore, were very busy in fastening huge
white favours and bunches of flowers to the coats of the party.

"Come, Freeborn, with me in my carriage," said Sir Henry.  "I have
fulfilled my promise in being present at your marriage, and must beg to
stand as your best man, and see that you behave properly; but boarding a
Frenchman at the head of a dozen daring fellows, though opposed to a
hundred or more, is a very different matter to standing before the
altar, about to take a wife for better or for worse to the end of life."

"So I was thinking, Sir Henry," answered True Blue, smiling.  "And do
you know, that if it wasn't Mary Ogle I was going to marry, I shouldn't
like it at all."

"All right, then, my friend; you'll do," said the baronet.  "Step into
the carriage."

The favours being distributed, Tom Marline mounted the coach-box of the
first carriage, in which were Mary Ogle and her father and mother,
carrying in his hands a long pole with a huge flag, on which was
inscribed, "True Blue for ever!  Hurrah for our own Billy True Blue!"

Tim Fid mounted, as he said, the fo'castle of the next carriage, in
which came Mrs Bush and Susan, with Harry, who declared that he didn't
fancy the custom of following in different vehicles, as great folks did.

On Fid's banner was the device of a ship, with "Hurrah for the Navy of
Old England!  Hurrah for her Gunners, Past, Present, and Future!"

On the box of the third carriage sat Sam Smatch, fiddle in hand, playing
away most lustily, and occasionally firing off a bow or stern-chaser of
jokes at the other carriages with a peculiar loud cackling laugh which
none but negroes can produce.

Nobody could have behaved better than did the brides and bridegrooms;
and when the ceremony was over, the bells set up a peal even more joyous
than before.  Instead of driving back to Paradise Row, the carriages
proceeded to the harbour; and then at the Hard appeared half a dozen
man-of-war's boats, rigged gaily with flags.  Sir Henry handed Mrs
Billy True Blue Freeborn into one boat, and Mrs Harry Hartland into
another, and of course their husbands stepped in after them; and then he
performed the same office to all the elder matrons and their younger
daughters; and then wishing them all health, happiness, and prosperity,
he entered his own boat and pulled across to Portsmouth.

The three godfathers and their mates stepped into another boat, and Sam
Smatch and the younger men into the sixth; and thus arranged, away the
boats pulled, Sam playing right lustily his merriest tunes.  True Blue's
boat led, steering up the harbour, where lay Paul's and Abel's and
Peter's ships.  As they passed, the people on board came to the side,
and cheered over and over again with all their might and main, making up
by the vehemence and multiplicity of their vociferations for the paucity
of their numbers.

True Blue and Harry got up and cheered too, and so did the matrons in
the third boat; and the godfathers made the seventy-fours a speech--it
sounded as if addressed to the ships rather than to the people on board.
Of course the men in the other boats cheered, and Sam almost sprang his
bow with the vehemence of his playing; but all this was as nothing
compared to the reception the bridal party met with as they reached True
Blue's and Harry's own ship.

Up and down the harbour pulled the bridal squadron; and the crews of
every ship, as they passed, took up the cheer and welcomed the
bridegroom, for True Blue and his deeds were now well-known throughout
the British fleet.  He had not aimed high, in one sense of the word, and
yet he had in another sense always aimed high and nobly--to _do his
duty_.

Right well that duty he had done; he had gained all he desired, and
never was there a happier or more contented man.

No pen can do adequate justice to the ball in the barn in the evening.
Never were so many warrant-officers collected together with their wives
and their families; and never, certainly, had such an amount of gilt
buttons and gold lace, and silk and satins and feathers, been seen in
such a place.  A crashing band overwhelmed Sam Smatch's fiddle; but he,
for his consolation, was requested to play frequent solos; and he far
out-eclipsed himself when he struck up "Bill's own special hornpipe," as
he called it, which, _nolens volens_, True Blue was compelled to dance.

If the bridegrooms made a tour, it must have been a very short one, as
their leave could not have extended to many days.  For a short time they
lived on shore, when their ship was paid off; but war soon called them
afloat.

True Blue had a numerous family of sons, every one of whom served his
country afloat, all becoming warrant-officers; while their sons again,
from their intelligence and steady conduct, although they entered before
the mast, obtained the same rank.

True Blue himself, who lived to enjoy a hearty and hale old age, gave
the same advice to his grandchildren which he received from Paul
Pringle.

"Lads," he used to say, "be content with your lot.  Do your duty in
whatever station you are placed, on the quarterdeck or fo'castle, in the
tops aloft or at the guns on the main or lower-deck, and leave the rest
to God.  Depend on it, if you obey His standing orders, if you steer
your course by the chart and compass He has provided for you, and fight
your ship manfully, He will give you the victory."

THE END.








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