Paul Gerrard Part 3

"Misfortune makes all people equal, and your tone of voice and the way you speak French, convince me that you are of gentle birth," said Alphonse.

It is possible that the mids.h.i.+pmen might have looked at Paul with more respect from hearing him speak a language of which they were ignorant, though some sneered at him for talking the Frenchman's lingo.

Paul, as soon as he could leave the berth, hurried to the side of Devereux. He found the surgeon there.

"Ah! come to look after your patient, boy?" said Mr Lancet. "You have performed your duty so well, that I have begged Mr Order to relieve you from your attendance on the young gentlemen, and to give you to me altogether."

Paul thanked Mr Lancet, but told him frankly, that though he was very glad to be of service to Mr Devereux, or to any other wounded s.h.i.+pmate, he wished to learn to be a sailor, and therefore that he would rather be employed on deck; still he was gratified at what Mr Lancet had said.

He devoted himself, however, to Devereux, by whose side he spent every moment not absolutely required for sleep or for his meals. Mr Order sent another boy, Tom Buckle, to attend on the young gentlemen, who came to the conclusion that he was a perfect lout after Paul.

"There is something in that youngster after all," observed Bruff, who resolved to try what he was really worth, and to befriend him accordingly.

Meantime, the _Cerberus_ continued in chase of the French frigate, which Alphonse told Captain Walford was the _Alerte_, and perhaps to induce him to give up the chase, he remarked that she was very powerfully armed and strongly manned, and would prove a dangerous antagonist. Captain Walford laughed.

"It is not a reason for abandoning the chase which would weigh much with any one on board this s.h.i.+p, I hope, though it will make them the more eager to come up with her," he answered.

Alphonse also let drop that the two frigates were bound out to the West Indies with important despatches. It was most probable, therefore, that the _Alerte_, in obedience to orders, would make the best of her way there. Captain Walford resolved to follow in that direction.

The _Alerte_ had probably not received as much injury in her rigging as was supposed, and as Alphonse said that she was very fast, there was little expectation on board the _Cerberus_ that they would come up with her before she got to her destination. Still, Captain Walford was not a man to abandon an object as long as there remained a possibility of success. He was a good specimen of a British naval officer. Brave, kind, and considerate, his men adored him; and there was no deed of daring which he would not venture to undertake, because he knew that his crew would follow wherever he would lead. He never swore at or abused those under him, or even had to speak roughly to them. Every officer who did his duty knew that he had in him a sincere friend; and his men looked upon him in the light of a kind and wise father, who would always do them justice, and overlook even their faults, if possible.

Mr Lancet took an opportunity of speaking to the captain of the boy Gerrard, and remarked that he was far better educated than were lads generally of his cla.s.s.

"I will keep my eye on the lad, and if he proves worthy, will serve him if I can," was the answer.

Devereux continued in great danger; the surgeon would not a.s.sert that he would recover. It was some time before he remarked Paul's attention to him.

"You are boy Gerrard, I see," he observed faintly. "You are very good to me, and more than I deserve from you; but I never meant you ill, and I got you off a cobbing once. I have done very few good things in the world, and now I am going to die, I am afraid. You'll forgive me, Gerrard, won't you?"

"Oh, yes, yes, sir!" answered Paul, with tears in his eyes; "even if you had wronged me much more than you have done; but it wasn't you, it was your father and those about him."

"My father! What do you mean, boy; who are you?" exclaimed Devereux, in a tone of astonishment, starting up for a moment, though he immediately sank back exhausted; while he muttered to himself,--"Gerrard! Gerrard!

can it be possible?" He then asked quietly--

"Where do you come from, boy?"

"No matter, sir," answered Paul, afraid of agitating Devereux. "I will tell you another time, for I hope that you will get well soon, and then you may be able to listen to what I have to say; but the doctor says that at present you must be kept perfectly quiet, and talk as little as possible."

Devereux, who was still very weak, did not persist in questioning Paul, who had time to reflect how far it would be wise to say anything about himself. He was not compelled to be communicative; and he considered that Devereux ill, and expecting to die, and Devereux well, might possibly be two very different characters. "If I were to tell him, he might bestow on me a sort of hypocritical compa.s.sion, and I could not stand that," he thought to himself. Whatever were Paul's feelings, he did not relax in his care of Devereux.

Day after day came, and the first question asked of the morning watch was, "Is there anything like the _Alerte_ yet ahead?" All day, too, a bright look-out was kept from the mast-heads for her; but in vain, and some began to think that she must have altered her course and returned to the coast of France.

Paul was not sorry when he heard this, for he had seen enough of the effects of fighting to believe that it was not a desirable occupation; and he, moreover, felt for young Alphonse, who naturally earnestly hoped that the _Cerberus_ would not fall in with the _Alerte_.

No one rejoiced more than did Paul when one day Mr Lancet p.r.o.nounced Devereux to be out of danger, and that all he required was care and attention. Paul redoubled his efforts to be of use. Alphonse missed him very much from the berth, as he was the only person who could interpret for him, and whenever he wanted anything he had to find him out and to get him to explain what he required. Before long, therefore, the young Frenchman found his way to the sick bay, where Devereux and others lay. Devereux was the only mids.h.i.+pman who could speak French, though not so well as Paul.

The s.h.i.+p had now reached a southern lat.i.tude, and the balmy air coming through an open port contributed to restore health and strength to the sick and wounded. When Devereux heard Alphonse addressing Paul, and the latter replying in French, he lifted up his head.

"What, boy Gerrard, where did you learn French?" he asked.

"At home, sir," answered Paul, quietly.

"Yes, he speaks very good French, and is a very good boy," remarked Alphonse.

"And you, monsieur, you speak French also?"

Devereux replied that he did a little.

"That is very nice, indeed," said the young Frenchman. "We will talk together, and I shall no longer fear dying of _ennui_."

After this, Alphonse was constantly with Devereux, and when the latter was better, he brought his fiddle and played many a merry tune to him.

Indeed, the young Frenchman, by his light-hearted gaiety, his gentleness, and desire to please, became a general favourite fore and aft.

"Ah, mounseer, if there was many like you aboard the frigate which went down, I for one am sorry that I had a hand in sending her there,"

exclaimed Reuben Cole one day, in a fit of affectionate enthusiasm.

Alphonse, who understood him, sighed. "There were many, many; but it was the fortune of war."

"But, suppose, Reuben, we come up with the other, and have to treat her in the same way, what will you say then?" asked Paul.

"Why, you see, Paul, the truth is this: if the captain says we must fight and sink her, it must be done, even if every one on us had a mother's son aboard. I stick up for discipline, come what may of it."

The s.h.i.+p was within one or two days' sail of the West Indies, when, as Paul was on deck, he heard the man at the mast-head shout out, "A sail on the lee-bow standing for the westward."

"It is the _Alerte_," thought Paul, "and we shall have more fighting."

Others were of the same opinion. Instantly all sail was made in chase.

The crew of the _Cerberus_ had been somewhat dull of late, except when the little Mounseer, as they called Alphonse, sc.r.a.ped his fiddle. They were animated enough at present. Even the sick and wounded were eager to come on deck. Devereux especially insisted that he was able to return to his duty. Mr Lancet said that he might not suffer much, but that he had better remain out of harm's way, as even a slight wound might prove fatal. He would listen to no such reasoning, and getting Paul to help him on with his uniform, he crawled on deck.

"Gerrard," he said as he was dressing, "if I am killed, you are to be my heir as regards my personal effects. I have written it down, and given the paper to Mr Lancet, witnessed by Mr Bruff, so it's all right. I have an idea who you are, though you never told me."

Captain Walford was surprised at seeing Devereux on deck, and though he applauded his zeal, he told him that he had better have remained below.

As soon as the stranger discovered the _Cerberus_, she made all sail to escape. It was questioned whether or not she was the _Alerte_, but one thing was certain, that the _Cerberus_ was overhauling her, and had soon got near enough to see her hull from aloft. It was now seen, that though she was a large s.h.i.+p, she was certainly not a frigate; it was doubted, indeed, whether she was French. The opinion of Alphonse was asked.

"She is not the _Alerte_, she is a merchantman and French; she will become your prize. I am sorry for my poor countrymen, but it is the fortune of war," he answered as he turned away with a sigh.

A calm, of frequent occurrence in those lat.i.tudes, came on, and there lay the two s.h.i.+ps, rolling their sides into the water, and unable to approach each other.

"If the stranger gets a breeze before us she may yet escape," observed the captain. "Out boats, we must attack her with them."

The sort of work proposed has always been popular among seamen. There was no lack of volunteers. The boats were speedily manned; the second-lieutenant went in one boat; old Noakes, though badly wounded, was sufficiently recovered to take charge of another; Peter Bruff had a third. Paul was seized with a strong desire to go also. In the hurry of lowering the boats, he was able to slip into the bows of the last mentioned, and to hide himself under a sail thrown in by chance. Reuben Cole went in the same boat. Devereux watched them away, wis.h.i.+ng that he could have gone also. The boats glided rapidly over the smooth, s.h.i.+ning ocean. Their crews were eager to be up with their expected prize. The sun beat down on their heads, the water shone like polished silver, not a breath of air came to cool the heated atmosphere; but they cared not for the heat or fatigue, all they thought of was the prize before them.

Paul lay snugly under his shelter, wondering when they would reach the enemy's side. He soon began to repent of his freak; he could hear the remarks of the men as they pulled on. The s.h.i.+p was from her appearance a letter of marque or a privateer, and such was not likely to yield without a severe struggle, he heard. Paul could endure the suspense no longer, and creeping from under his covering, he looked out over the bows.

"Hillo, youngster, what brings you here?" sung out Mr Bruff. "If you come off with a whole skin, as I hope you will, you must expect a taste of the cat to remind you that you are not to play such a trick again."

The reprimand from the kind-hearted mate might have been longer, but it was cut short by a shot from the enemy, which almost took the ends off the blades of the oars of his boat. The men cheered and dashed forward.

At the same moment eight ports on a side were exposed, and a hot fire opened on the boats from as many guns, and from swivels and muskets.

Hot as was the fire, it did not for a moment stop the boats. Paul wished that he had remained on board. The deck of the enemy seemed crowded with men.