Paddy Finn Part 34

I of course said that I did, that he had treated me very kindly at Savannah, and that I must congratulate him on his good fortune.

While we were speaking, Tom came up, and said somewhat abruptly, "Paddy, we must not delay longer." He didn't again turn towards Miss Lucy, to whom I went up and wished good-bye. Tom and I then paid our adieus to the rest of the family. Lucy was well-nigh crying, I thought, but the yellow light admitted through the blinds prevented me from seeing clearly.

"It's all over," cried Tom, as we got outside. "I thought it would happen. I've been and made a fool of myself, and I'll never do so again as long as I live; no, never--never!"

I comforted Tom as well as I could, and indeed he soon recovered his equanimity. I told him I was sure that Miss Lucy was very grateful, though she was not inclined to wait till he had become a post-captain, or even a commander, to marry him.

We looked in on our way down to the harbour on our two French friends.

We found them in high spirits, for they had just received information that they were to accompany the Count de Gra.s.se, and other French officers, who were about to return home, on board the _Sandwich_, Sir Peter Parker's flag-ship, on their parole. As Sir Peter was on the point of sailing in charge of a homeward-bound convoy, Sir George Rodney remained as commander-in-chief at Jamaica. A short time after, Admiral Pigot arrived out from England to supersede him, and Sir George returned home in the _Montague_.

At length, after lying idle for some time, Admiral Pigot, with his flag on board the _Formidable_ made the signal for the whole fleet to put to sea.

A report reached us just before this that we and the other ships were to return to England, and highly delighted every one was at the thoughts of going home. We were, however, kept cruising for some time, till we fell in with the fleet of Admiral Graves off Havanna; thence we proceeded to Bluefields, on the south coast of Jamaica, towards its western end.

Here Admiral Graves, whose flag was flying aboard the _families_, received orders to convoy a hundred sail of merchantmen, together with the French prizes, consisting of the _Ville de Paris_, no guns, the _Glorieux_ and _Hector_; of 74 guns each, and the _Ardent_ and _Jason_, of 64 guns each. The men-of-war accompanying them were the _Canada_, our ship the _Cerberus_, of 74 guns each, and the _Pallas_, of 36 guns.

"It's to be hoped that we shall have fine weather," said Nettleship one day at mess. "Even now we're obliged to keep the pumps going every watch. It's a wonder the hull and rigging hold together; while we're terribly short-handed, and, as far as I can judge, the rest of the ships are in no better condition, and the prizes are still more battered."

"What an old croaker you've become," cried Tom. "I thought you would have been the last person to talk in that way."

Others, joining Tom, made the same sort of remarks.

"I'm not croaking. I only say that never fleet put to sea in a worse condition; but I do hope we shall be blessed with fine weather, and not meet with a heavy gale, or have to encounter an enemy of superior force."

Those watching us from the sh.o.r.e could certainly not have supposed that the fine-looking fleet sailing along the coast of Jamaica was unable to cope with the fiercest gale that it was likely to encounter.

As we got away from land we found that the _Jason_ had not joined us, being employed in completing her water, while during a calm the officers of the _Ardent_ sent a memorial to the admiral stating that she was totally unseaworthy; and they had therefore the good fortune to be ordered back to Jamaica to refit.

For some time the fine weather lasted, and few doubted that we should convoy the merchantmen committed to our charge, and the trophies of our hard-earned victory, in safety to England. We had got about the lat.i.tude of the Bermudas, when some of the convoy parted company, on their way to New York, leaving us, including the men-of-war and merchantmen, with only ninety-two sail,--the _Ville de Paris_, under an experienced navigator, leading the van through the Gulf Stream. The wind and sea, however, shortly after this got up, and two ships, the _Caton_ and _Pallas_, made signals of distress, each having sprung a leak. The admiral therefore ordered them to bear away for Halifax, then less than a hundred leagues distant. Scarcely were they out of sight than the wind shifted to the south-east, blowing strongly, while a still heavier sea got up. The admiral on this made signals for the whole fleet to collect together, and prepare for a heavy gale. He hove-to on the larboard tack under his mainsail, with topgallant masts struck. We and the other ships followed his example, with all our other canvas furled.

Nettleship, Tom Pim, and I, being in the same watch, were on deck together. We had just got the ship snug, and, our duties for the moment performed, were standing together, watching the fast-rising seas.

"I say, Nettleship, we have got that gale you hoped we should escape, and no mistake about it," said Tom Pim; "but the old barkie rides easily, and the wind must blow a good deal harder than it does yet to hurt her."

"But we can't say that it won't blow harder, youngster," said Nettleship, who was much graver than usual. "To my mind the weather looks as threatening as it well can be, and those in authority would have shown more wisdom had they waited till the equinox was over to send us to sea. Just look round; now did you ever see a wilder sky?"

Nettleship was right. The clouds were rushing madly on overhead, while to the southward and east it had a peculiarly angry appearance.

Foam-capped waves were tossing and tumbling, the spoon-drift flying off their heads covering the ocean with a sheet of white, while a lurid light occasionally gleamed forth from the point where the sun was going down, tinging for a moment the crests of the seas and here and there a tossing ship on which it fell. The sea with thundering blows struck our bows and washed along our high sides, the blocks rattled, the wind whistled in the rigging, the masts groaned, the bulkheads creaked. We had to speak at the top of our voices to make each other hear, while the lieutenants had to shout their loudest through their speaking-trumpets as they issued their orders. We were the leewardmost of the men-of-war who were in sight, the merchantmen scattered around, all pitching and rolling together, in a way which threatened to send their masts overboard. The latter we could see had now a yard, now a topmast carried away, but as far as we could make out, no great damage had been done. Each dog-watch the pumps were manned. Their clanking was heard amid the uproar as night closed in. My old shipmates and I had to keep the morning watch, so as soon as the hammocks were piped down, we turned in to get some sleep first. Seldom that I had my head on the pillow many seconds before my eyes closed, but this night the fearful uproar, the violent swinging of my hammock, and the plunges which I felt the ship making, kept me awake. My watch below seemed twice as long as usual. At length I heard eight bells strike. I turned out, and with my two messmates went on deck.

"Things haven't mended since sundown," observed Nettleship, as he, Pim, and I were together on the quarter-deck.

Indeed, the wind was howling more furiously than ever, and the big ship plunged and rolled in a way which made it difficult to keep our feet.

"We've plenty of sea-room, that's one satisfaction, at all events," said Nettleship. "I shouldn't like to be on a lee sh.o.r.e on a night like this."

"Faith, nor should I, unless there was a good harbour to run into," said I.

"It must have a broad entrance, and be well lighted, then," he answered, "or we shouldn't be much better off than we are at present."

Two--four bells struck in the morning watch, and there appeared to be no improvement in the weather. The captain and second and third lieutenants came on deck, and, by the way they stood talking together, I saw that they considered matters growing serious. The pumps were kept going twice as long as usual. Six bells had just struck, when there came a sound like thunder breaking over our heads. Looking up, I saw the mainsail aback.

The captain shouted out, "Man the clew garnets, let fly tacks and sheets;" but the words were scarcely out of his mouth before the ship heeled over, with a suddenness which nearly took us all off our feet.

There was no need for the officers to cry out, "Hold on for your lives."

We struggled to windward, grasping whatever we could clutch. More and more the ship heeled over; then there came another loud report, the mainmast went by the board, the fore-topmast fell over the starboard bow, and the next instant the mizzenmast was carried away half up from the deck, while the sound of repeated blows which came from the after-part of the ship, showed us that the rudder had been wrenched from the pintles, and was battering away under the counter. All these accidents happened in such rapid succession that it was impossible to do anything to avert them. The utmost vigilance was required to save ourselves from being crushed by falling yards and blocks, while cries and shrieks arose from many of our poor fellows, some of whom had been struck down, and others carried overboard, vainly endeavouring to regain the ship. Suddenly she righted, with a violence which tore away the guns from their lashings, and jerked the shot out of the lockers. The captain, not for a moment losing his self-possession, shouted to the crew to clear away the wreck of the masts,--himself, axe in hand, setting the example. Before, however, many strokes had been given, the sea came roaring up astern, and, bursting into the captain's cabin, swept everything before it. The doctor, purser, and several other officers who had remained below, came rushing up, some only in their shirts and trousers, others in their shirts alone, believing very naturally that the ship was going down. Tom Pim and I, with the other midshipmen, were exerting ourselves to see that the men obeyed the orders received. I met Larry, axe in hand, chopping away vigorously at the shrouds.

"Ah, then, Mr Terence, things have come to a bad pa.s.s, I'm after fearing," he exclaimed. "Will you be letting me keep by you, if you please? If the ship goes down, I'd like to see how we could save ourselves on a boat, or a raft, or one of the masts, if we can't get into a boat."

"If it comes to that, Larry, I'm afraid we shall have little chance of saving our lives," I answered; "at all events, however, I should like to have you near me."

I can scarcely find words to describe the fearful condition of the ship.

Gun after gun broke loose, crushing several of the men against whom they were cast; shot, hove out of the lockers, were rolling about between decks, injuring many others. The water from below rushed from side to side, making a clean sweep of everything it encountered, doing almost as much mischief as the seas which broke aboard on the upper deck. The officers who had last come from below were unable to return, and stood shivering in their scanty clothing, no one having even a coat to spare. While some of the crew were clearing away the masts, which were striking with every surge against the ship's side, tearing off the copper, and, as the oak.u.m washed out, increasing the leaks, others, encouraged by their officers, were labouring at the pumps, while a third party was endeavouring to bale out the water with buckets. I didn't expect to see another dawn; but the morning came notwithstanding, and a fearful sight it presented to us. Away to leeward we discovered the _Canada_, with her main-topmast and mizzenmast gone. The flag-ship, more to windward, seemed in no better condition. The _Glorieux_ had lost her foremast, bowsprit, and main-topmast. The _Ville de Paris_ still proudly rode the waves, as far as we could judge, uninjured, yet ere long she was to share the fate of many others, for after that day she was never again seen, and must have foundered with all her crew. Of the merchantmen several had already gone down, others had lost many of their spars, and some their masts, while out of the whole fleet not twenty remained in sight. Not far off from us lay a large ship on her beam-ends. Nettleship pointed her out to me. "Poor fellows, they're worse off than we are," he said. The crew were attempting to wear her.

First they cut away the mizzenmast, then shortly the mainmast went; still she lay helpless.

"See, she's hoisting the ensign, Union downwards," said Nettleship.

"It's her last despairing signal for help."

No help could any one give her. We watched her for a few minutes, when her stern rose, the sea rolled up and plunged into it; down she went, the fly of her ensign the last object visible.

She was the _Dutton_ formerly an East Indiaman, and then a storeship.

Her fate might soon be ours.

"Some of her poor fellows have escaped," cried Nettleship.

He pointed out to me a boat under sail, not far from where the _Dutton_ had foundered. We watched the boat. Now she was hid from sight in the trough of the sea, now she rose to the summit of a billow. Still it seemed impossible that she could escape being swamped. Yet on she went, driving before the gale.

"That boat is well handled, or she would have been under water before this time," observed my messmate. "What she can do others can do, and some of us may have a chance for our lives if our old ship goes down.

Paddy, my boy, if that happens, do you try and get aboard a boat.

You're young, with a good chance of promotion. I'm old, and have none; and I should like to have you and Tom Pim save yourselves."

"But I can't go without Larry," I answered; "and you too, Nettleship, if you have any hope of a boat living in this sea, you must try to get off."

He shook his head.

"No, no, Paddy. I have long made up my mind for the worst, and am ready for it. I should be thankful, though, to see you and Pim escape, and your honest fellow, Larry. There are two or three boats still uninjured. It's a pity that the lives of some of us should not be saved, if we can but manage to launch them."

While he was speaking I was watching the progress of the _Dutton's_ boat. First she steered for a ship some way to the eastward, but those on board at length saw that they should have to haul up to reach her, and again she kept away for a large merchantman to leeward. Presently the boat ran alongside the merchantman, from whose deck a number of ropes were hove into her, and the men, clutching them as the boat surged by, were hauled up, and, as far as we could see, none were lost, though the boat herself almost immediately rilled and disappeared. In other directions most melancholy spectacles met our sight. The whole sea was literally covered with pieces of wreck and human beings clinging to them, among whom we observed several women lashed to spars or gratings, probably by brave fellows who themselves had perished after in vain attempting to preserve those they loved. No help could be given to the unfortunate wretches; and even had we been able to haul some who came near us on board our ship, it would only have been to prolong their lives for a few short hours.

Our captain and officers were making all possible efforts to save our ship, but from the first, I suspect, they must have seen they were hopeless. Every possible weight was got rid of. The anchors were cut away; then the upper deck guns were hove overboard, though the operation in itself was a dangerous one, for, after the gun tackles were cut loose, there was the risk of the guns upsetting and crushing those standing near. All this time the pumps were being worked. The captain ordered all hands not otherwise engaged to bale, and we were formed in gangs to pa.s.s the buckets up and down and along the deck.

CHAPTER NINETEEN.

THE WRECK OF THE "CERBERUS."

We were thus employed when the carpenter came to the captain with consternation in his countenance, and told him that the pumps would no longer work, for, the shot-lockers being destroyed, the shot as well as the ballast had got into the well, and completely choked it up.