True Blue Part 4

"Our skipper is a good officer, there's no doubt about it," observed some of the younger men as they walked the forecastle. "But he's sometimes overmuch on the safe side, and if a moderate breeze were to spring up, and an enemy appear in sight, she'd slip away long before we could be in a fit state to go after her."

"You are very wise, mate, I daresay," said Abel Bush, who heard the remark. "But just suppose the Captain is right and you wrong, how should we look if the squall caught us with all our light sticks aloft and our canvas spread? Old Harry Cane, when you meet with him in these parts, is not a chap to be trifled with, let me tell you."

The younger seaman might have replied, but the force of Abel's argument was considerably strengthened by a loud roaring sound which broke on their ears. Far, too, as the eye could reach, the ocean appeared torn up into a vast ma.s.s of foam, which rolled on with fearful rapidity, preceded by still higher undulations than before, which made the s.h.i.+p roll, and pitch, and tumble about in a way most unusual and alarming.

The officers, speaking trumpet in hand, were issuing the necessary orders to try and get the s.h.i.+p's head away from the coming blast; but the little wind there yet was refused to fill the head sails, and only made them beat and flap against the masts.

"I told you so, mates," said Abel Bush as he pa.s.sed Ned Marline, the young seaman who had been criticising the Captain's arrangements; "never do you fancy that you know better than your elders till you've had as much experience as they."

Paul Pringle had been watching the _Thunderer_. He had served on board her; he had many old s.h.i.+pmates now belonging to her; and he naturally took a deep interest in all concerning her.

"She's a fine old s.h.i.+p, that she is!" he exclaimed as he cast a last glance at the gallant seventy-four, before turning to attend to his duty.

She was then not a quarter of a mile to leeward. Now down came the fury of the hurricane; with a roar like that of a wild beast when it springs on its prey, the tempest struck the _Terrible_. The headsails, which alone were set, in an instant were blown from the boltropes, and flew like fleecy clouds far away down to leeward. The helm was put up, but the s.h.i.+p refused to answer it. The tempest struck her on the side. The stout masts bent and quivered in spite of all the shrouds and stays which supported them, and then over she heeled, till the yardarms touched the seething ocean. Fore and aft she was covered with a ma.s.s of foam, while the waters rushed exultantly into her ports, threatening to carry her instantly to the bottom. The crew hurried to secure the ports. Many poor fellows were carried off while making the attempt. In vain Captain Penrose and his officers exerted themselves to wear the s.h.i.+p. Like a helpless log she lay on the foaming ocean. While still hoping to avoid the last extreme resource of cutting away the masts, the carpenter appeared on the quarterdeck with an expression of consternation on his countenance.

"What has happened below, Chips?" asked Captain Penrose.

"Twelve feet water in the hold, and rapidly gaining on us," was the answer.

"It is probably the water which has got in through the ports; but man the pumps: we must get it out again as fast as we can," answered the Captain.

"They'll not work while the s.h.i.+p is in this position, sir," said the carpenter.

"Oh, well, then, we must get her out of it!" cried Captain Penrose in a cheerful voice, though his heart was heavy. "All hands stand by to cut away the masts."

The order was repeated from mouth to mouth, for no voice could have been heard along the deck. The carpenter once more went below to sound the well. He shortly returned with even a worse report than the first. The order was therefore given to cut away the masts. He sprang to his post at the mizen-mast, which was to go first; but, just as he was about to cut, the s.h.i.+p righted with a sudden jerk, which well-nigh sent everybody off his legs. All believed that the dreaded resource would not be required, but still the helm was useless, and therefore the s.h.i.+p could not be got before the wind. Not a minute had pa.s.sed before she was once more struck on the opposite side with a still more furious blast of the hurricane. Over the big s.h.i.+p heeled to it, till first the foremast went by the head, carrying all the topmast rigging over the bows; the mainmast followed, going by the board, and the mizen-mast was quickly dragged after it, the falling masts wounding and killing many of the crew, and carrying several overboard. Not a moment, however, was lost, before, led by the officers, all were engaged with axes and knives in clearing the wreck. But now the seas leaped up furiously round the labouring s.h.i.+p, tossing her huge hull wildly here and there, as if she had been merely some small boat left helplessly to become their sport.

Now, for the first time, Paul Pringle and others bethought them of looking for the _Thunderer_. So full of salt spray was the air that they could scarcely make her out, near as she was to them; then on a sudden they saw her dark hull surrounded by the seething foam, but her stout masts were not visible. She, as they had been, was on her beam-ends. Suddenly she, too, righted; up rose the masts, in all their height and symmetry it seemed.

"She has come off scatheless!" cried one or two.

"No, no, mates!" cried Paul Pringle in a tone of anguish. "See! see!

heaven have mercy on their souls!"

Down, down, sank the big hull; gradually tier after tier disappeared; the foaming waters leaped over the decks--the tall masts followed-- down--down--down--and in another instant the spot where the brave old _Thunderer_ had floated was vacant, and seven hundred human beings were hurried at once into eternity. In vain could the crew of the _Terrible_ hope to render them a.s.sistance--the same fate at any moment might be theirs. No one had even time to mourn the loss of their countrymen and friends. Every nerve must be strained to keep their own s.h.i.+p afloat.

Still the water rushed in.

The opinion became general that a b.u.t.t had been started, (that is, the end of a plank), and that the s.h.i.+p must go down. Even Captain Penrose could no longer conceal from himself that such was too probably the case. He, however, and his officers exerted themselves to the utmost to maintain discipline--no easy task under such circ.u.mstances in those days, when men who had braved death over and over again in battle with the greatest coolness and intrepidity, have been known to break open the spirit stores with the object of stupefying their minds with liquor to avoid facing the king of terrors.

Fiercer and fiercer raged the hurricane, and now all hopes of saving the s.h.i.+p, or of preserving their own lives, were almost abandoned. Paul Pringle, with Abel Bush and Peter Ogle, were seen to be very busy. They were collecting such shattered spars and small ropes, and casks and other articles, as they could most easily lay hands on. These they quickly converted into a small but very strong raft, with a sort of bulwark all round it. In one of the casks they stowed a keg of water, and some biscuits and beef; and in another they stuffed the bedding of a hammock and some blankets; and they stepped a mast on the little raft, and secured a flag to it. The raft might, probably, have borne four or five men, but there was only sitting room for one just alongside the cask which had the bedding in it. When all was ready, Paul Pringle disappeared into the Captain's cabin, and returned carrying in his arms Billy True Blue, followed by Sam Smatch, who had his fiddle and bow tucked under his arm.

"Now, Sam," said Paul, pointing to the raft, "you see that. You didn't enter to do a seaman's duty; so you, if any one ought, may quit the s.h.i.+p. Now, you see, none on us knows what moment she may be going down; and so, Sam, just jump into this raft and make yourself fast, so that no sea can wash you off, and take Billy True Blue with you. Though he's on the s.h.i.+p's books, he isn't entered to do duty; so he may quit her without any shame or disgrace, d'ye see. Bear a hand now, Sam."

The black did as he was bid; and having secured his beloved fiddle in one of the casks, held out his arms to receive little True Blue. Paul for some instants could not bring himself to part with the child. He pressed his lips to its little mouth as a fond mother might do; and then Peter and Abel followed his example with no less signs of affection; but a cry which ascended from below, that the s.h.i.+p was settling down fast, hurried their proceedings.

"There, Sam, take him," said Paul with a tone of deep feeling, giving up the child to the black. "Watch over him, Sam, for he's a jewel, mind that. You may be driven ash.o.r.e on that island out there, and as you know the lingo of the people, you may do bravely among them. Your fiddle will stand you in good stead wherever you go, and you may play them into good humour. But mind you, Sam, as soon as you can, you are to get to a British port, and to go aboard a man-of-war, and say who the boy is, and what he is, and how he's to be brought up; and try and find out any old s.h.i.+pmates of mine, or Peter's, or Abel's, or the Captain's-- for I know he'll join us--and say that it was our last dying message, just before the waters closed over us, that they would stand in our shoes and look after the boy. We trust you, Sam. You loves the boy. I knows you do. You'll be faithful, lad?"

"Yes, Paul; so help me, I will," answered Sam with much feeling, pressing his s.h.i.+pmate's hand held out to him.

"Stay," said Paul suddenly, "you shall not go alone, Sam. There's another who loves little True Blue, and as he's one of the youngest in the s.h.i.+p, no one will complain that he has a chance of his life given him. It's Natty Garland. Has any one seen Natty Garland?"

The young mids.h.i.+pman was nowhere to be found. The Captain highly approved of Paul's proposals, and men hurried off in every direction to look for the lad.

The Captain retired to his cabin to write a hasty despatch, describing the condition of his s.h.i.+p. He expected that it would be the last he should ever indite. "I will entrust this with the young boy," he said to himself. "I am sure the explanations it will give will exonerate me for the loss of the s.h.i.+p."

When he returned on deck, the mids.h.i.+pman had not been found. The Captain was about to give his despatch to Sam, when two men returned, bringing young Garland with them. They found him between two of the guns on the middle deck almost stunned from a fall. Had they not arrived when they did, he very likely would have been washed through a port and drowned. He soon recovered in the air, and was told what was proposed.

"To leave the s.h.i.+p while others stay?" he exclaimed. "No, no. I am an officer, and it is my duty to stick by the s.h.i.+p to the last."

"Right, Garland," said the Captain, taking his hand warmly. "But I do not propose that you should leave the s.h.i.+p till she will no longer float; and then I have to entrust you with a despatch, which you must deliver to the Admiral, and explain how the s.h.i.+p was lost."

"I will obey your orders, sir," cried the boy, bursting into tears; "but I would rather stick to the s.h.i.+p like the rest and go down in her, if go she must."

"Maybe the s.h.i.+p won't go down, though," said Sam.

As Sam spoke, the fury of the hurricane seemed slightly to decrease.

The Captain and officers again felt some hopes of saving the s.h.i.+p, by heaving overboard the upper deck guns which could be most easily got at.

It was a desperate resource, as the s.h.i.+p would thus be left utterly helpless and a prey to the meanest enemy; still it was better than allowing her to go to the bottom. As she rolled, now one gun, now another, was cast loose, run out, and let slip through the ports. It was difficult work, for one gun slipping on board and getting loose might create the most desperate havoc and confusion. Several guns had been sent plunging into the ocean, when the Captain gave the order to hold fast. Suddenly, as the hurricane began, it ceased. The s.h.i.+p rolled and tumbled about as violently as ever, having no masts to steady her; but some minutes pa.s.sed and she had not sunk lower in the water; her pumps were got to work steadily; all hands which could be spared were sent with buckets to the lower-deck to bale away; and though at first the impression they made did not appear on so large a bulk of water, it was soon evident they a.s.sisted the pumps in gaining on the leaks.

No one, with but one exception, was idle. Everybody was straining every nerve to keep the s.h.i.+p afloat, and to clear her of the wreck of her masts. The only exception was Sam Smatch. Not aware that the state of affairs had much improved, he sat, as ordered, on the raft, holding little True Blue, and expecting every moment to feel the s.h.i.+p sinking from under him.

Bravely and energetically the men laboured on. Once more the s.h.i.+p floated nearly at her usual level; but the continued clank of the pumps showed that it was only while they were kept going constantly that she would do so. The hurricane, with loud mutterings in the distance, died away, and the jury-masts being got up, a light wind from the eastward enabled a course to be steered for Jamaica. Paul had come and released Sam, and sent him with the child into the cabin.

"Gentlemen," said the Captain to his officers a.s.sembled round him, "a merciful Providence has preserved our lives. Every man has done his duty; but let us not boast that it is owing to our own strength or exertions that our s.h.i.+p is still afloat. Our fate might have been that which I fear has overtaken the _Thunderer_. Alas! we shall have a sad account to give of her." Captain Penrose surmised too truly what had happened. Neither the _Thunderer_ nor a single man of her crew was ever heard of again.

CHAPTER SIX.

The _Terrible_ was with difficulty kept afloat while jury-masts were being got up, and sails were made to carry her to Jamaica. Never had her brave crew felt so unwilling to meet a foe; but, as Tom Snell, the boatswain's mate, observed:

"What is sauce to the goose is sauce to the gander, d'ye see, mates; and the chances are that all s.h.i.+ps afloat are likely to be pretty evenly tarred with the same brush."

So it proved. The French suffered as severely as the English. Many vessels of each nation, both men-of-war and merchantmen, were cast away; in some cases the whole of the crew peris.h.i.+ng, in others a few only escaping.

Little True Blue had, therefore, at a very early age, to encounter "the battle and the breeze."

"He was just beginning to get the use of his sea-legs," as Paul observed; and it was his great amus.e.m.e.nt and that of the boy's other guardians, as well as of Sam Smatch, and occasionally of the other men, to teach him to employ them. They would sit on the deck in a circle, and, stretching out their arms, let him run about between them. First he began by merely crawling, and that he did at a very rapid rate; then he got up by degrees and worked his way along their legs, and in a week or two afterwards he could move about between them; but great was the delight of the honest Jacks when he discarded even this support, and toddled boldly from one to the other with a true nautical roll. What shouts of laughter--what applause was elicited at his performances! and Billy was almost smothered by their beards as they kissed him as a reward for his success. Even at this early age, Billy showed, as most children do, a strong inclination to have his own way; but, loving him heartily as they did, they had been too well disciplined themselves to allow him to have it, and no one kept him more strictly in order than did Paul Pringle himself.

Sam Smatch would have done his best to spoil him; but he got for his pains several severe pulls by the ears, boxes on the cheek, and kicks on the s.h.i.+ns, so at last he fortunately was compelled to exert his authority and to report him to his head guardians. Billy was a n.o.ble little fellow; but he no more nearly approached perfection than does any child of Adam. Billy was destined to experience, before long, more of the ups and downs of a naval career.

It was on the 25th of August 1781, that the _Terrible_, forming one of Rear-Admiral Sir Samuel Hood's squadron, arrived off the Chesapeake, and then proceeded to Sandy Hook, where they joined Rear-Admiral Graves, who, being senior officer, became commander-in-chief and sailed in quest of the enemy. Paul Pringle and the rest of the crew of the _Terrible_ were eager once more to meet the foe.

"Here we've been a-cruising up and down these two years, and never once been able to get alongside them Frenchmen, to have a regular-built stand-up fight!" exclaimed Paul as he and Abel Bush and one or two others were stretching their legs on the forecastle.

"I should just like to show a Monsieur to Billy, and tell him all about them," observed Abel. "We can't begin too soon to teach him how he ought to feel for them. I knows well enough that we mustn't make him hate them, because, d'ye see, they are our enemies; but we may show him how he must try and give them a sound drubbing whenever he can catch them, because that's his duty to his country, and it's good for them to pull down their pride, d'ye see."

Abel's opinion was loudly echoed by all his hearers. There soon appeared every probability of the wishes of the old _Terribles_ being accomplished. Early on the morning of the 6th of September, the French fleet was discovered at anchor across the Chesapeake, extending in a long line from Cape Henry to the Middle Ground.