Roger Willoughby Part 13

"At all events, you have great reason to be thankful that you did get away from them," said Roger. "Now, you have to see that you behave yourself like a Christian man in future."

"I will try," said Sam, gravely. "I wish you would speak to the Captain and have those heads thrown overboard."

On this it occurred to Roger that the best thing was to tell Captain Benbow of the hallucination under which Sam was suffering.

"I will soon settle that matter," said the Captain, and he directed one of the mates to go forward and tell the men that if he ordered them to heave overboard the Moorish heads ranged on the forecastle, they were to pretend to do so. Presently he came on deck, and calling Sam aft, asked how he dared to have allowed those heads to remain on the forecastle.

He then, keeping Sam by him, ordered the men to heave them into the sea, and not let one remain. They, being prepared, went through the action of heaving heads overboard. Sam looked on with open eyes and mouth agape.

"Now, my man," said the Captain, "we have got rid of those Moorish heads."

"Ay, ay," said Sam, looking over the side to see some of them floating astern. "I hope we have seen the last of them; it's my belief they have all gone to the bottom."

After this the _Benbow_ frigate continued her course across the Bay of Biscay without meeting with any adventure. One day the Captain was talking over his plans with Stephen. "When I get to London, as soon as I have discharged my cargo and secured another freight, one of the first things I shall have to do will be to present myself to King James and see what notice he is inclined to take of the King of Spain's recommendation."

"To King James!" exclaimed Stephen. "Why, I was not aware that King Charles the Second was dead."

"Dead he is though, and, as the Spaniards say, died a true Catholic.

Cannot say it is much to his credit, as he always pretended to his subjects to be a Protestant, and now that King James, who is more honest in that respect, acknowledges himself to be a Catholic, the French and the Spaniards are rejoicing at the thought that England will be turned back to the old faith, and that the object of the Spanish Armada will be gained."

"Heaven forbid that such should be the case!" exclaimed Stephen.

"I have no wish for it, and do not believe the people of England will consent to such a change," remarked the Captain; "but as I am a tarpaulin, as they call us, I do not trouble myself with affairs on sh.o.r.e, and it is my business to obey the laws, and do my duty to whatever king is on the throne."

"I cannot altogether agree with you there," said Stephen. "Our fathers fought to gain our civil and religious liberty, and it behoves us, their children, to defend those liberties with our lives."

The Captain shrugged his shoulders, remarking that he had not given his thoughts to such matters.

The news he had heard made Stephen meditate a great deal, and become more than ever anxious to return home. At length the Lizard was made, and the eyes of the adventurers were gladdened with the sight once more of their native land. The wind being fair, the _Benbow_ frigate soon afterwards pa.s.sed the Start, when she came up with a small vessel running in for the land. The Captain hailed her.

"Where are you bound for?" he asked.

"Lyme," was the answer.

"Heave-to, then, for I have a pa.s.senger for you."

"Now, Battis...o...b.., here is an opportunity if you wish to take advantage of it."

"Thank you, sir; I will do so," said Stephen.

In another minute his small bag of clothing was got on deck. He thanked Captain Benbow for all his kindness; he and Roger grasped each other's hands; they felt the parting more than their words could express.

"Tell them all about me," said Roger; "how much I should have liked to come home, but that I am bound to the ship and cannot leave Captain Benbow." He sent many more messages, which need not be repeated.

A boat was lowered, and Stephen was speedily carried on board the trader, which stood on towards Lyme, too far off then to be perceived, while the frigate, having hoisted her boat in, continued her course up channel. The Bill of Portland was soon pa.s.sed, and the high cliffs of the Isle of Wight sighted. Before the sun rose the next day, the _Benbow_ frigate had run through the Straits of Dover, and was about to haul round the North Foreland, when a heavy north-westerly gale sprang up, which compelled her quickly to shorten all sail. In vain an attempt was made to steer for the Downs; the gale increased with such fury that it became evident that she would run a fearful risk of being driven on the Goodwin Sands. The ship was stout and well found, and Captain Benbow still hoped to beat up against the wind; but he was driven farther and farther from the English coast, while under his lee he had the dangerous Flemish bank. Few men, however, knew the shoals of that coast better than he did. Now the ship was put on one tack, now on another, but on each tack she lost ground.

He might, to be sure, have run for Dunkerque, Ostend, or other places along the coast, but night was coming on, and to steer in among the sandbanks was a dangerous undertaking, with the weather so thick and squally as it then was, and without a pilot; still, unless the _Benbow_ frigate could beat off the coast,--it was one of two alternatives which remained--she might ride to her anchors, though risk of her dragging them was very great. Still, as long as her masts and sails remained uninjured, Captain Benbow resolved to try and keep to sea; a shift of wind might enable him to gain either the Downs or the Thames. The cool intrepid way in which Captain Benbow managed his ship excited Roger's admiration, while the crew, accustomed to confide in his skill, executed his orders with prompt obedience. When morning at length broke, dark clouds covered the sky, while leaden seas, capped with foam, rolled up around them, but no land was in sight to leeward, which showed that they had not struggled in vain; still the wind was blowing as strong as ever, and, stiff as was the _Benbow_ frigate, it would have been dangerous to set more sail; indeed, she was already carrying as much as she could bear.

"If the gale does not increase we shall do well," observed Captain Benbow to Roger. "As soon as it moderates we may stand in for the Thames."

As the Captain had been on deck all night, he now went below to s.n.a.t.c.h a short sleep, leaving his first officer in command. Roger was also glad to turn in, for he could scarcely keep his eyes open. He might have been asleep for about a couple of hours, when he was awakened by hearing two loud crashes in rapid succession. He sprang up on deck to discover, to his dismay, that both mainmast and foremast were gone by the board.

The Captain was already there issuing his orders to clear the wreck, and to prevent the b.u.t.ts of the masts striking the sides of the ship.

Never, perhaps, before had the _Benbow_ frigate been in greater peril, and it was more difficult than ever to keep her off the shoals. The long dark night was coming on, the masts were pounding away against the sides, having been cut adrift. An effort was made to rig a spar on the stump of the foremast, so as to keep steerage-way on the ship, the Captain having resolved to steer for the Scheldt, in which river he hoped to find safe anchorage. Owing to the way the ship was tumbling about, some hours pa.s.sed, however, before the jury-mast could be rigged and sail set on it. The ship was then kept as much as possible to the westward, and Captain Benbow expressed a hope that he should be able to reach the mouth of the river. Before the morning came the wind had dropped considerably, and had shifted to the southward, whereon the ship's head was immediately turned in the direction of the Thames. She had gone but a short distance, when a sail, which had been sighted at daylight coming from the northward, approached under Dutch colours.

"Mynheers and I have always been friendly, and if yonder vessel has any spars on board, I doubt not that her Captain will gladly supply us with anything we want."

The stranger soon drew near, and Captain Benbow having explained his wants, which were indeed very evident, the Dutch Captain at once offered not only to furnish him with spars, but, it being almost calm, to send some of his crew on board to a.s.sist in getting them set up. The offer was too good to be refused. The stranger was the _Elephant_, Captain Coopman, who, knowing Captain Benbow by reputation, said that he was delighted to be of service to him. While the two ships lay close alongside each other, their crews busily engaged with the work in hand, another ship was approaching, which was not discovered till she was a couple of miles or so off. Captain Coopman, on observing her, expressed his astonishment and annoyance.

"She is French," he exclaimed. "By not keeping a proper look-out, I have allowed myself to be caught."

"But I cannot permit you to be caught by the Frenchman," said Captain Benbow.

"Thanks, friend," answered the Dutch Captain. "I would willingly not expose you to an attack from the Frenchman, but I cannot help myself.

See, the wind has fallen completely; it has become a dead calm."

While he was speaking, a boat was seen to put off from the stranger, and as she approached, it was observed that she was full of armed men.

Captain Benbow, on this, ordered the guns to be loaded and run out, and directed his men, while the Dutch Captain, going on board his ship, followed his example. In a short time the stranger was alongside.

Captain Benbow stood at the gangway.

"You are welcome to come on board if you visit us as a friend," he said, "but I cannot allow you to step on my deck if you approach as an enemy."

"Whither are you bound, and to what nation do you belong?" asked the stranger.

"I am English," answered Benbow, "and am bound from Cadiz to the Thames.

You, I see by the colours you carry, are French."

"What is the other vessel alongside you?" asked the French Captain.

"She is Dutch, and has delayed her voyage to render me a.s.sistance in getting fresh masts set up, as you will observe, mine having been carried away in the gale."

"I regret to have to interfere with her, but I must, notwithstanding, make her my prize," said the French Captain.

"If you make prize of her you must make prize of me," answered Captain Benbow. "In common grat.i.tude I cannot allow her to be captured while I have the means of defending her."

"Notwithstanding, I must take her, for I am bound to make prizes of all Dutch vessels I fall in with," answered the stranger.

"At present, my friend, I think we are more likely to make you and your boat's crew prisoners," said Captain Benbow. "See, you are under our guns, and I have only to give the word, and we can sink you in a moment; however, what do you say to a compromise? You give me your word that you will let this vessel escape, and I promise not to make prisoners of you and your boat's crew, which I shall otherwise most certainly do."

"Who are you?" asked the French Captain, standing up in his boat. He appeared to be in the prime of manhood, and exhibited a tall yet well-knit figure, and a fine bold handsome countenance.

"John Benbow, at your service," answered the Captain. "May I ask your name?"

"I am Jean Bart, in the service of the King of France. I am pretty well known in these seas."

"That indeed you are; a better seaman does not sail out of Dunkerque,"

answered Benbow. "I have often heard of you and your doings, and from the number of prizes you have taken, I judge that you can afford to let one go without any loss to your reputation or purse. I tell you frankly that I am glad of having an opportunity of meeting you."

Captain Bart looked pleased at the compliment paid him.