True Blue Part 12

True Blue had not far to stoop as he took the lanyard of the lock in his hand and looked carefully along the gun. The _Ruby_ had herself hauled up a little. For an instant there was a cessation of firing. Billy at that moment pulled the trigger. The Frenchmen were in the very act of bracing up the mizen-topsail-yard when the mizen-mast was seen to bend over to starboard, and, with a crash, to come toppling down overboard, shot away a few feet only above the deck.

"You did it--you did it, Billy, my boy!" exclaimed Paul Pringle, almost beside himself with joy, seizing his G.o.dson in his arms and giving him a squeeze which would have pressed the breath out of a slighter body.

"Who fired that last shot?" asked the Captain from aft.

"True Blue, sir--Billy Freeborn!" cried Paul Pringle.

"Hurrah! hurrah!" shouted the men at the gun.

"Bravo! let him fire another, then," answered Captain Garland, not complaining of the irregularity of the proceeding. Not another word could have been heard, for both the _Ruby_ and the French frigate again began pounding away at each other.

True Blue, with the encouragement he had received, stepped boldly up to the gun. The captain was Tom Marline, one of his a.s.sistant-guardians, and he was a favourite with all the rest, so that there was no feeling of jealousy excited against him.

Again he looked along it. He waited his time till the smoke had cleared away a little, and then once more he fired. The shot hit--of that both Marline and Paul Pringle were certain, but what damage was done they could not determine.

"I pitched it astern, not far from the wheel," observed True Blue quietly. "Maybe it hit the wheel--maybe not."

Again the firing went on as before, and True Blue modestly returned to his powder tub. More than once he jumped up, anxious to have another pull at the lanyard of his gun. Paul, however, did not encourage this; he wisely considered that he had done enough to establish a reputation, which more shots would not have increased.

Suddenly Paul struck his hands together with delight. "She is steering wildly! she is steering wildly!" he cried out. "True Blue, you did knock her wheel away--you did, boy. See what she's about!"

The French frigate as he spoke paid off right before the wind, and presented her bows directly at the _Ruby_. In that position she received a raking broadside; but nothing could stop her--she was utterly without guidance, and on she came like a battering-ram directly at the beam of the _Ruby_. Captain Garland, so sudden was the movement, could accomplish no manoeuvre to avoid the collision. The French s.h.i.+p's jibboom, as she fell on board the English frigate, pa.s.sed directly between her fore and mainmasts, and there she hung, while it pressed so hard against the already wounded mainmast that there appeared every prospect of the latter being carried away. Just before, a shot had struck the boatswain and brought him mortally wounded to the deck.

Paul Pringle knew of his loss. As he looked at the mast, strained to the utmost, the main and spring stays being also shot away, he thought to himself, "If the mast goes the Frenchman will break clear, and ten to one, after all, escape us."

It was a time for decision, not for much consideration.

"Who'll follow me, lads?" he exclaimed, seizing an axe and springing into the rigging.

Tom Marline and several other bold fellows did follow. They had to ascend and then to descend the tottering mast. Terrific was the danger.

Should the mast fall, their death would be almost certain. They thought, however, only of the safety of the s.h.i.+p, or rather, how they might best prevent the escape of the enemy. With right good will they plied their axes on the enemy's jibboom. Bravely they hacked away, in spite of the fire of musketry which was kept up from her decks.

Meantime a cry was raised below that the French were about to board.

"Boarders, repel boarders!" cried Captain Garland.

"I'll lead you, my lads!" exclaimed the first lieutenant. "See, they are not coming; but we'll be at them--hurrah!"

True Blue, finding that there was no more work for him to do in getting up powder, and seeing Abel Bush and Peter Ogle, with a few others, following Mr Brine on board the Frenchman, seized the cutla.s.s of a seaman who had just been killed close to him, and, in the impulse of the moment, sprang after them. In vain, however, their gallant leader endeavoured to get on board from the upper deck. Numbers of Frenchmen stood in the head, and, in spite of all the activity of the British seamen, they could not spring into it. On finding this, quick as lightning Mr Brine leaped down, and, followed by a few, reached the maindeck. Then, calling more round him, he sprang through the bow-ports of the enemy's maindeck, with Peter Ogle, True Blue, and a few others, driving all opponents before him. Just at that moment, before all the boarders had time to follow, Paul Pringle had succeeded in cutting through the Frenchman's jibboom, with all the connecting rigging, and, her head coming round, she was once more clear of the _Ruby_, and drifting helplessly away from her. Even while engaged in his task, Paul's watchful eye had detected True Blue seizing the cutla.s.s, and when he followed Mr Brine he guessed his object. Still he did not suppose that those with him would allow the boy to board the Frenchman; and, at all events, he was not the man to be deterred by any consideration from completing the duty which he had undertaken.

The moment, however, that he had performed it thus effectually, he slid down rapidly on deck and eagerly sought for his G.o.dson. He was met with a cry from Harry Hartland and Tim Fid, "Oh yes, Paul, he's gone--True Blue's gone; he's on board the Frenchman, and they'll make mincemeat of him--that they will!"

He observed, also, Abel Bush, Tom Marline, and others standing eyeing the French frigate, the very pictures of anxiety and disappointed rage.

He saw too clearly that True Blue must have been one of those who had been carried off in the French s.h.i.+p when she broke adrift from them. To a.s.sist in clearing her, the _Ruby's_ helm had been put aport, or to larboard, as was then the expression, and this carried her still farther away from _La Belle Citoyenne_.

Captain Garland was not aware for some little time that any of his people had gained the enemy's decks. The instant the fact was communicated to him, he became doubly eager to get once more alongside.

The minutes, however, appeared like hours to those who knew that their s.h.i.+pmates and friends were surrounded by exasperated foes, who were too likely, in the heat of the moment, to give no quarter. Paul Pringle groaned with anxiety for the fate of his G.o.dson. There he stood, his huge beard blackened with smoke and dabbled with a s.h.i.+pmate's blood; his hair, which had escaped from under his handkerchief when he went aloft, streaming in the breeze; his brawny arm bared, and his drawn cutla.s.s in his hand; and looking truly like one of the sea-kings of old, the rovers of the main, prepared for a desperate struggle with his enemies. Just then the sails of the French frigate were taken aback, and the effect of this was to cause her to make a stern board, which drove her right down on the _Ruby_.

Once more, by slightly s.h.i.+fting his helm, Captain Garland allowed her to drop alongside, the respective bows and sterns of the two s.h.i.+ps being in opposite directions.

"And now, my lads, lash her fast!" he shouted. "We must not let her part from us till she is ours."

The very instant the sides of the two frigates ground together, Paul Pringle, who, with a party of boarders, many of them old s.h.i.+pmates, stood ready on the maindeck, sprang through the after-ports, shouting out, "Remember little True Blue, boys! Let us get back our Billy True Blue!"

The clash of steel and the occasional report of pistols saluted their ears, and there stood at bay the gallant little band, the lieutenant and Peter Ogle, with most of the men, bleeding at every pore--one or two, indeed, stretched lifeless at their feet; but True Blue himself was nowhere to be seen. Numbers were pressing round the gallant band, and in another instant it seemed likely that they would have been overwhelmed. With such impetuosity, however, did Paul and his party dash on board, that although numbers of the Frenchmen were thronging the maindeck, they were rapidly driven back. In vain they struggled--in vain they fought. Nothing could stop the fierce onslaught of the British seamen.

High above all other cries, Paul Pringle's voice was heard shouting the name of True Blue. "We must find our True Blue. Huzza for our True Blue, boys!"

Thus timely relieved, Mr Brine was once more able to advance aft, and now on both sides, led by him and by old Handlead, who was among the first of the second party, the British tars swept the Frenchman's maindeck fore and aft, cutting down or driving below all before them.

At length, when near the after-hatchway, the Frenchmen made a bold stand, as if resolved to sell their lives dearly or to drive back their a.s.sailants. Just then, Paul caught sight of True Blue himself, struggling to get free from between two of the after-guns, to which place it was evident he had been carried as a prisoner.

"There he is, boys! there is our True Blue!" shouted Paul, and at the same moment he and his companions dashed on with redoubled energy from the check they had received, tumbled all the remaining Frenchmen down into the c.o.c.kpit, and in another instant Paul had once more grasped his G.o.dson by the hand.

"You deserve one thing, Billy, and you shall do it!" he exclaimed.

"Follow me quick, though."

He sprang up the ladder to the upper deck. Meantime the officers had placed parties at the hatchways to keep in check those who had taken refuge below, the remaining few who appeared on the maindeck having thrown down their arms and prayed for mercy.

On the upper deck stood a gallant few surrounding their Captain, who lay wounded among them at the foot of the mainmast. They seemed scarcely aware that their companions below had yielded, and that all hope of resistance was vain. The rush of the British seamen who now swarmed on board and swept along the deck undeceived them, and, driven right and left or overboard, the remainder dropped their swords and asked for quarter.

Paul, followed by True Blue, had gained the main-rigging. His quick eye had discovered that the halliards of the Frenchman's flag, that of the new Republic, led into the top.

"There, boy!" exclaimed Paul, "you must haul that down. Quick, aloft!"

True Blue required no second order, but, springing up the ratlines before anybody could overtake him, he had reached the top, when, seizing the halliards, down came gliding the flaunting tricolour, followed quickly by the red cap of liberty, which, uns.c.r.e.w.i.n.g, he threw among the people on deck; and three hearty cheers from the British crew announced that the well-fought battle was won.

The gallant French Captain opened his dim eyes at the sound, to see the emblem for which he had striven trampled under foot. He had been endeavouring, since he saw that all hope of escape was over, to tear to pieces with his teeth and to swallow a paper which he had drawn from his pocket. Suddenly, while thus engaged, he saw the red cap fall like a flash of fire from aloft. His fingers released their hold of the paper, and with a deep groan he expired.

Mr Brine stooped down by the side of his brave opponent. The paper he had been endeavouring to destroy was his commission; but another paper projected from his pocket. It was a code of private signals, which, with n.o.ble patriotism, he had wished to prevent falling into an enemy's hands.

"Well, I suppose there is some good in those Frenchmen after all!"

exclaimed old Handlead when he heard of it. "He tried to serve his country to the last, at all events."

No time was now lost in securing the prisoners and removing them to the _Ruby_ as the two s.h.i.+ps lay alongside each other. Some of the Frenchmen looked very glum, and evidently, if they could get an opportunity, meant mischief; but they mostly yielded to the fortune of war with a shrug, and by the evening were skipping away right merrily, to the sound of Sam Smatch's fiddle. Indeed, they had little cause for animosity against him, as he had taken no part whatever in their capture, having volunteered to remain below to a.s.sist the surgeon. The English, in this gallant action, a type of many which were to follow, had just fifty men killed and wounded, while the French lost between sixty and seventy.

Just as the last of the prisoners were removed, and the prize crew of the _Belle Citoyenne_ had got on board, the two s.h.i.+ps separated.

When once more the two frigates were in a condition to make sail, and were standing along amicably together, Captain Garland called the crew aft. "My lads," he cried, "all have done well to-day. That fine frigate, now ours, is the best proof of it--won, too, let me tell you, from the moment the first shot was fired till the flag was hauled down, in less than an hour. When all have done their duty like brave British seamen, I can scarcely pick out any in particular to praise; but there is one lad among you who rendered material service in the work of the day."

Paul Pringle brightened, and, his countenance beaming with pleasure, he placed his hand on his G.o.dson's shoulder. The Captain went on:

"There was one shot which especially tended to secure us the prize; that shot was fired by the boy Freeborn--True Blue Freeborn. I shall have my eye upon him. If he goes on as he has begun, he will be an honour to the service, and rise in it, too, if I mistake not. Lads, you have all my hearty thanks, and our King and country will thank you too."

Three hearty cheers for their gallant Captain were given by the crew as he finished his address; and then, however unexpected, and as Paul Pringle expressed himself, "almost dumfoundering," three more were raised for Billy True Blue Freeborn, the pride of the crew. No one shouted louder than Tim Fid and Harry Hartland; but Gipples growled out as he sneaked below, "It'll be all the same some day when a shot takes his head off. They can't keep that on with all their petting."

The next day the frigate reached Portsmouth, where the brave French Captain was buried with all the honours of war; and Captain Garland, and his officers and s.h.i.+p's company, received the praises and rewards which they so well-merited for their gallant achievement.

CHAPTER ELEVEN.