Paul Gerrard Part 26

But the sea rolled in very heavily, and they feared, if it increased, that the ice round the ship would break up. Still there would be ample warning given, and they dreaded no immediate danger. The raft and boat were both got ready. Should the ship sink, the former would in all probability float, and afford them a refuge should the boat be unable to live.

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

And the whole party sat down to a not unsubstantial meal round the cabin stove. Dinner was over. It had been somewhat prolonged, for there was nothing to do, and they had been talking of by-gone days, and fighting their battles over again. It was time, however, to look out to see what progress they had been of late making. It was O'Grady's watch, and when he opened the cabin door to go out, he saw a ma.s.s of smoke eddying round in the fore-part of the deck. His companions soon joined him to ascertain beyond a doubt that the ship was on fire. It might still be overcome. But the fresh water had been started; there was only ice alongside, and the pumps were choked. The party made a rush towards the fire, in the hopes of beating it out; but they were soon convinced that it had gained hold of the ship, and that no efforts they could make to extinguish it would avail. How it had originated there was no time to consider. Probably some coal jerked out of the galley-fire had found its way below, and had ignited some of the stores. The flames now burst forth, and spread rapidly--bursting through the hatchways and ports, and soon enveloping the whole of the fore-part of the ship. The party were now exposed to even a more terrible danger than any they had antic.i.p.ated. Their raft would no longer avail them. Their entire dependence must be on their frail boat. Still till the last moment they were unwilling to leave the once stout ship which had so long been their home.

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

"Hurrah! one cheer for the old barkie before we leave her!" cried Reuben Cole, as they launched the boat on to the ice. "Another good is, that not another mortal man will set his foot on her deck after us."

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

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

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

So long as the boat was under the lee of the floe she made tolerably fine weather of it; but as she increased her distance, the seas came rolling up after her, threatening every instant to engulph her. A mast had been stepped, and a sail got ready for hoisting. This was now run up, and a.s.sisted her greatly. Devereux steered, and even he could scarcely keep his eyes from the burning ship. A cry from his companions made him for an instant turn his head. There was a thundering deep report; and as he looked for an instant, the whole ship seemed, with her remaining masts and spars one ma.s.s of flame, to be lifted bodily up out of her icy cradle into the air. Up, up it went, and then, splitting into ten thousand fragments, down it came hissing and crashing, some into the foaming sea, and others on to the ice, where they continued to burn brilliantly. There was no cheering this time. Paul felt more inclined to cry, as he witnessed the fate of the gallant frigate.

"If the wreckers on sh.o.r.e were expecting a prize, they'll be mistaken,"

observed Reuben, when all had been silent for some time.

They had enough to do to look after their own safety. It was already dusk. Ma.s.ses of ice were floating about, not very thickly, but thick enough to make it a matter of difficulty to avoid them. The land was flat, and they were nearer to it than they supposed. A point appeared on the right. If they could get round it without being swamped, they would be in smooth water. They gave the point a sufficient berth. A heavy sea came rolling by them; luffing up, they ran in, and in another minute found themselves standing up a river of some size in perfectly smooth water. The weather was very cold, and they were anxious to get on sh.o.r.e as soon as possible. The further up they went, however, the more likely they were, they thought, to find satisfactory shelter, for as yet no houses of any sort could be seen. Shelter, however, must, if possible, be found, for although they had provisions, the weather was too cold to allow them to remain out, if it could be helped. They stood on for nearly half an hour, when a light was seen glimmering on the opposite sh.o.r.e. They steered towards it, fortunately lowering the sail when at some distance from it, for before the boat had lost way, her stem struck against the ice which fringed the bank, and very nearly stove in her bow. Searching about, however, they at length found a landing-place, and with hearts thankful for their escape sprang on sh.o.r.e. That they might not be a burden to the people whose hospitality they intended to seek, they loaded themselves, not only with the valuables they had rescued from the wreck, but with a good supply of provisions. They proceeded, therefore, boldly along a tolerable road in the direction of the light, or rather lights, for several appeared as they advanced.

"Oh, depend on it we shall have a cordial reception," said O'Grady.

"Very likely that is some fat old Burgomaster's country residence, and he is giving a ball, or an entertainment of some sort, for which we shall come in."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Escorted by the hors.e.m.e.n, they were conducted to the building they had seen. It appeared to be a large country house. All the outhouses and lower rooms were converted into stables, little trouble having been taken to remove rich Brussels carpets or valuable furniture. They were led upstairs to a large room, where several officers were seated at supper, and were announced as prisoners just captured on the road, reporting themselves as naval officers.

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

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

"It is a considerable distance from the coast, and we cannot spare men to send," said the general, gruffly.

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

observed Paul, quietly.

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

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

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

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

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

"What have these officers done? They appear to be treated as criminals.

I know them well. They are old friends, who, when I was their prisoner, treated me with kindness, sympathy, and generosity. I will answer for it that whatever account they have given of themselves is the true one."

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

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

"Very well; then if they will pa.s.s their parole, they shall be committed to your charge, Count," said the general, with a more courteous glance at the English officers than he had hitherto bestowed.

All arrangements having been made, the prisoners accompanied Alphonse to his quarters, where, with the aid of the provisions they had brought, an ample repast was soon spread before them. Of course they were all eager to know how Alphonse had happened so opportunely to make his appearance.

He briefly told them that his father, who was no other than the old gentleman in the chateau whom Paul and O'Grady had known as _Mon Oncle_, was the Count de Montauban, and that his t.i.tle having been restored by the Emperor, he had, on his death, succeeded to it; that having left the marine, of which his experiences had made him heartily sick, he had entered the army, and had rapidly risen to the command of a troop in a light cavalry regiment. His corps belonged to a division of the army which for some strategical object had been pushed forward, but was expected quickly to retreat, when he thought it very possible that the general would set them at liberty.

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

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

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

After a detention of some weeks, the whole party were, as Alphonse had antic.i.p.ated they would be, released, and having ample funds which the young Count pressed on them, they made their way without difficulty to Cuxhaven, which place of course the captain and officers and crew of the lost frigate had long since left. They succeeded, however, without much delay in getting over to England. Mary recovered her health, and on Devereux becoming a commander, they were married. O'Grady married one of her younger sisters a few years afterwards, and when peace came, paid a very pleasant visit to his old friends the Count and Countess Montauban.

Paul rose to the top of his profession, and used to take great delight in narrating to his grandchildren his adventures when he was a cabin-boy. To one of these grandchildren I am indebted for this history.