Under the Meteor Flag Part 35

The surgeon and his a.s.sistant now trundled down over the side, with their tools under their arms, and went on board the prizes to attend to the poor fellows who were wounded, Mr Flinn returning with them to arrange the prize crews, and to anchor the prizes, the skipper having come to the determination to remain in smooth water until the wounded had all been attended to and placed comfortably in their own hammocks on board the frigate.

In the mean time I trundled down into the midshipmen's berth, bathed my wound--a scalp-wound about six inches long--in cold water, clapped on a quarter of a yard of diachylon plaster, a sheet of which I always took the precaution to keep in my own chest, s.n.a.t.c.hed a mouthful or so of biscuit and cold meat, and then returned to the deck to see if I could be of use.

"Oh! I've been looking for you, sir," said the captain's steward, as I put my head above the coamings. "The captain wishes to see you in his cabin at once, if you please, sir."

"Is he there now, Polson? All right, then, I'll go down to him forthwith," and away I went.

"Come in!" said the deep, musical voice of the skipper, in answer to my knock. I entered.

"Oh! It's you, Ralph. Come in and sit down. I see you have been doing a little patching up on your own account. Is it very had?"

"Thank you, no; a mere breaking of the skin," I replied. "I shall be as good as new in a day or two, I hope."

"That's well. Still you had better let Mr Oxley look at it when he is at leisure. Very trifling wounds turn out badly sometimes in this hot climate. And now--I want to speak to you about that poor lad Fisher. I am told he was in the gig with you."

"In the gig with me!" I echoed taken thoroughly by surprise. "I a.s.sure you, Captain Annesley, I was quite unaware of it, then. Indeed, I was not aware that he had left the ship until Mr Flinn spoke of him as being wounded. I haven't even seen him throughout the affair."

"I am glad to hear that," said the skipper, his brow clearing. "To tell you the whole truth, Ralph, I have been feeling very angry with you; for when I heard that the poor boy had gone in your boat, I quite thought it must have been with your connivance. And I need scarcely point out to you that I could not approve of such a child as that being allowed to take part in an expedition of so dangerous a character, where he would only be in the way, and could be of no possible a.s.sistance. However, since you say that you know nothing about it, I suppose he must have slipped down into the boat surrept.i.tiously and stowed himself away.

Now, as there is nothing particular for you to do, you may as well--"

At this moment Mr Flinn entered.

"Sit down, Mr Flinn, sit down, man," said the skipper. "Well, how are things looking on board the prizes by this time?"

"Capitally, sir, I am happy to say," replied Flinn, with a beaming phiz.

"The wounded have nearly all been attended to, and we may begin to transfer them at once. Little Fisher seems in a somewhat more promising condition now that his wounds have been dressed, and the others are also doing well. As to the prizes, the brigantine has such a heterogeneous a.s.sortment of goods in her hold that her cargo alone, which is very valuable, is sufficient to betray her character. Her skipper was killed--by you, Ralph, if I understand them rightly--early in the attack, but the mate, or lieutenant as he calls himself, swears she is a privateer. However, as he cannot produce anything like a commission, I am very glad I am not in his shoes. The craft is called the 'Juanita,'

and the mate says they were bound from c.u.mana to Cartagena, but his papers look to me remarkably like forgeries. The ship is the 'San Nicolas,' bound from La Guayra to Cadiz, with a general cargo and--two large boxes of silver bricks, which we found stowed away down in the run. _Her_ papers are all perfectly correct, and she is evidently a prize to the brigantine. The rascals on board her profess to be her regular crew, and disown all acquaintance with the crew of the 'Juanita,' but there are twice as many men on board as are entered in the ship's books, and altogether their tale is far too flimsy to hold water. I have no doubt they are a prize crew from the 'Juanita,' and that the ship's crew have all been murdered. So that we have done a very good-night's work, I think."

"Capital," said the skipper. "Couldn't well be better, except for our losses in killed and wounded. Let the poor fellows be transferred at once, if you please, Mr Flinn. When they are all stowed comfortably away, we will shift the silver into the frigate also; then there will not be much fear of its recapture. And lastly, we will shift the prisoners over to the frigate; then the prizes will not require such large prize crews."

We then went on deck together, and I went away in the launch to effect the transfer of our killed and wounded. This was a long and painful business, some of the wounded requiring the most careful handling; but it was done at last, and by the end of the afternoon watch everything was ready for us to weigh and proceed to sea again, which we at once did; the prizes being ordered to rendezvous at Barbadoes.

Mr Vining, the third lieutenant, had charge of the "San Nicolas," while the "Juanita" was entrusted to Carter, the master's-mate, who had strict injunctions to stick close to and protect the ship.

We weighed in a body, and stood away to the southward, close-hauled on the larboard tack; the frigate cracking on, and leaving her prizes to follow at their best pace. Vining also carried on upon the "San Nicolas," giving her every st.i.tch of canvas she could show, while Carter had to haul down a couple of reefs in his mainsail and topsail, reef his foresail, and stow his flying-jib and fore-topmast-staysail in order to moderate his speed to that of his consort.

At two bells in the first dog-watch, the crew were mustered, the men having cleaned and shifted their rig for the occasion, while the officers appeared in full-dress, sail was shortened, and the ship hove- to. The bodies of the five poor fellows who had fallen in the attack of the previous night were placed in the lee gangway, sewn up in their hammocks, each with an eighteen-pound shot at his feet, and the ensign spread over them as a pall. The skipper stationed himself at their heads with the prayer-book in his hand, and, having looked along the deck fore and aft to satisfy himself that everything was as it should be, took off his c.o.c.ked hat, the rest of us uncovering at his example.

"I am the Resurrection and the Life, saith the Lord. He that believeth in Me, though he were _dead_, yet shall he live; and whosoever liveth and believeth in Me shall _never_ die."

The words, in all their solemn beauty of promise, uttered in a voice which quivered slightly with emotion, fell clearly and distinctly from the captain's lips, and went straight to the hearts of the throng of ocean warriors who had gathered to bid a last long, sad farewell to their fallen comrades, and to consign them with all honour to a sailor's grave. The bronzed and bearded faces of the listeners wore an expression of gravity well suited to the most solemn ceremonial of the Christian faith, and as the impressive service proceeded, more than one of the stalwart seamen, who had a few hours before fought side by side with those who now lay at their feet wrapped cold and stark in their b.l.o.o.d.y shrouds, dashed with a hasty and furtive hand the unwonted tears away.

Nor were the externals of the scene altogether inappropriate to the occasion. The frigate, pausing in her rapid flight, swayed slowly and majestically upon the bosom of the surges which would soon receive the bodies of her dead heroes, and hung, as if in sentient grief, over the spot which was to be their tomb. Her graceful hull, lofty spars, and snowy canvas gleamed refulgent in the last rays of the setting sun as he sank to his rest through a bank of rainbow-tinted clouds, and the rising wind sobbed and moaned dirge-like through her taut rigging.

At length the glorious luminary touched the horizon, staining the bosom of the waters to a deep rosy hue, and flinging a broad pathway of glittering molten gold from the ocean's rim across the restless billows clear up to the frigate's side. Slowly sank the broad disk behind the purple horizon, as the solemn ceremony drew to an end. The ensign, that meteor flag, beneath whose folds so many heroes have fought and died, was gently raised, and at the words "Forasmuch as it hath pleased Almighty G.o.d of His great mercy to take unto Himself the souls of our dear brothers here departed, we therefore commit their bodies to the deep,"--the inner ends of the gratings upon which the dead lay were slowly elevated, the sullen plunge of the bodies smote upon the ear, and the last ray of the departing sun flashed upon the swirling eddies where they had disappeared, dyeing them deep in crimson and gold.

The ocean suddenly darkened, the gorgeous cloud-tints faded into tender grey, and, as the service came to a conclusion, a gun boomed the frigate's farewell to her lost ones; the main-yard was swung; and the dead were left to their last long sleep deep within the sheltering bosom of the ocean they had loved in life so well.

We stood on until midnight, when we tacked to the northward; in which direction we steered during the whole of next day and the following night, when we deemed ourselves far enough to windward to enable us to pa.s.s between the Islands of Saint Lucia and Saint Vincent and fetch Barbadoes on the other tack.

In the meantime all the wounded were doing well except poor little Fisher. His injuries were of a very serious nature, a cutla.s.s-blow having cloven his right shoulder until it had nearly severed the arm from the body, and his right lung was penetrated by a pike-thrust. The skipper had ordered a cot to be slung for the little fellow in his own cabin, and thither I went as often as I could, to sit beside him, help him to the cooling drinks which our kind-hearted medico had concocted for him, and cheer him up when his spirits drooped, as they too often did. Exhausted by loss of blood and severe physical suffering, his nervous system appeared to have completely broken down, and the incessant heave and roll of the ship distressed him almost beyond his powers of endurance.

"Oh! Chester," he said to me one day, "if I could but be on sh.o.r.e, I believe I should get better. It tires me out to lie here, hour after hour, watching the sway of the ship. And then it is so dreadfully hot here, although the stern-ports are always open. What I should like is to be on sh.o.r.e, in a nice large room, with the windows open and the sea- breeze rushing in, laden with the odour of flowers, and to lie and listen to the rustle of leaves, and watch the branches of the trees swaying in the wind, with the birds and b.u.t.terflies glancing to and fro, and the sunlight glittering upon the water. I can't sleep now, with the tramping of feet overhead, the creaking of the bulkheads, and the everlasting wash of the sea sounding in my ears, but I believe I _could_ sleep then; and if I could sleep I feel that I should get better."

A day or two after he had said this, I went down to see him toward evening, and at the cabin-door I met the doctor just coming out.

"How is he this evening, doctor?" I inquired.

"Worse; very much worse. I am beginning to despair of him now. He is light-headed, and I question if he will recognise you," was the discouraging reply.

I went in and found the skipper himself standing by the cot, holding one dry burning hand in his, listening to the incoherent ramblings of the poor lad, and endeavouring to soothe him. Home scenes and incidents of school-days seemed to be uppermost in his mind at the moment that I entered, but soon afterwards his thoughts wandered away to the night of the attack.

"I must go, I _must_ go," he exclaimed in anxious tones; "if it be only to prove whether I _am_ a coward or no. Chester spoke _very_ kindly to me, but I believe he thinks I am afraid. It will be dreadful, I know-- the flashing cutla.s.ses, the fierce thrust of pikes, and perhaps the fire of grape and canister. And there will be gaping wounds, and blood-- blood everywhere; and oh! the suffering there will be; I have read of it all--the burning, unquenchable thirst, the throbbing and quivering of agonised limbs, and the upturned glance of unendurable torture. How can I possibly bear to look upon it all? And perhaps _I_ may be one of the wounded--or the slain. And if I am, what then? I do not care about pain for myself, I can bear it; but it is the sufferings of others that I dread to see. And if I am killed--why, I shall die doing my duty, and I am not afraid of death; I have never done anything that I need be ashamed of; I never did anything mean or dishonourable; I have always tried to be kind to every one; and I have read the Bible regularly which my poor dear mother gave me."

He paused a little. Then the tears welled slowly up into his eyes. "I am dying--I know it, though none of them have said so. I wonder whether my father will be sorry. He is a proud man and stern--very stern; I cannot remember that he ever kissed me, and I have never been able to tell whether he cares for me or no. But I believe he does--I _hope_ he does; and at all events, he need not be ashamed of me, for I have proved that I am no coward. My mother will grieve for me, though; it will break her heart and--oh!"

Here a violent flood of tears came to the poor boy's relief, and he sobbed as though his heart would break.

"Phew!" exclaimed the skipper. "This will _never_ do; he is too weak to bear this, I am sure. Run for Oxley, and tell him to come at once, Ralph; we must stop this at any cost."

I rushed out of the cabin, and returned in another minute with the doctor.

The poor boy was still sobbing occasionally, but he was crying more quietly now, and lying quite still in his hammock, instead of moving his limbs restlessly about as he had been.

The doctor leaned over the cot, felt his pulse, and laid his hand upon his patient's forehead.

"It is a dreadful tax upon his already exhausted strength," said the medico, "but I believe in the present case it has done good rather than harm. However, it will not do to risk a repet.i.tion of this sort of thing, so I will give him a mild opiate, although I would much rather not, in his present exhausted condition."

He leaned over the cot once more with his finger on the lad's pulse, and gazed long and anxiously in the pale, upturned face, as though revolving in his mind some weighty problem. Then, turning abruptly away, he left the cabin, beckoning me to follow.

As he was mixing the draught in the dispensary, he remarked,--

"If he can only last out until we reach Barbadoes, I believe we might save him yet; but it is this constant motion which is irritating his wound, and sapping his life. When do you think we shall get in?"

"To-morrow morning, if the breeze holds," I replied.

"Too late, I am afraid," said my companion, shaking his head. "The patient is in such a critical state that a few hours more or less may make all the difference between life and death to him. However, I will not give him up without a fight. Mr Stuart and I will watch him through the night, and perhaps you could arrange to stay with him through the dog-watches, could you?"

"a.s.suredly," I replied. "I will speak to Mr Flinn about it, and I am sure he will excuse me."

"Very well, then; that's arranged," said the doctor. "Now run away with that draught. If the poor boy is still agitated, give it him at once; if not, keep it by you for the present."

I returned to the cabin, and found that little Six-foot had stopped crying, and seemed disposed to sleep, so I put the bottle in a place of safety, and whispered to the skipper the doctor's arrangement.

"All right," he returned. "You remain here. I must go on deck now; and I will mention to Flinn that you will not be on deck during the dog- watch."

He stole out on tiptoe, and I was alone with my patient. I settled myself in a low chair near the cot, and looked out through the stern- port. The sun was just setting, and the western sky glowed with the same gorgeous colouring which it had worn on the evening of the funeral.

The sight reminded me of the sad incident, and I wondered whether we were to have a sadder one yet. I sat for some time lost in mournful thought, when there was a slight stir in the cot, and I heard little Fisher's voice say weakly--