True Blue Part 3

"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 G.o.d 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 pa.s.sage 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 a.s.suredly 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 antic.i.p.ation 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 a.s.sured 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 pa.s.sed, 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 c.r.a.pauds 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 ash.o.r.e 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 a.s.semblage 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 G.o.dfathers' 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 a.s.sembled, perched about in every available spot and in every possible att.i.tude, 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 pa.s.sed 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 sc.r.a.pes than I'd like to own. I'm very well afloat, but ash.o.r.e 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 G.o.dfather, 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 G.o.dfathers' mates were chosen as their a.s.sistant-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 gla.s.s--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 n.o.bly, and they were antic.i.p.ating 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 n.o.ble 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 pa.s.s 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 pa.s.sed away.