Will Weatherhelm Part 23

La Motte endeavoured to cheer me up, by talking of old times and of our adventures in the Mediterranean and elsewhere,--indeed, I felt his presence a very great comfort. He was of a most cheerful, happy disposition, and allowed nothing to put him out.

"I was on my way home from the West Indies in a fine brig, the _Ann_, and I had a little venture on board of my own, with which I hoped to make a good addition to my fortune, and perhaps, before long, to settle down and marry. Well, it's all gone; but what's the use of sighing?

What has happened to me has happened to a thousand other better men much less able to bear it. So I say to myself, 'Better luck next time.' I never can abide those people who sigh, and moan, and groan if any mishap overtakes them, as if they were the only unfortunate people in the world. To everybody they meet they tell their woes, as if nothing else was of so much consequence. You are not one of those, Weatherhelm, I know, nor am I. Everything comes right in the mill at last, if we will but wait patiently till the mill turns round."

La Motte rattled on in this way till he talked me into better spirits again. At all events, he prevented me from dwelling on my misfortunes.

"Now, in reality, we ought to consider ourselves _very_ fortunate," he continued. "We might have been captured by a set of ruffianly fellows, who would have robbed us and ill-treated us in every way. Instead of that, the crew are the best sort of privateer's-men I ever fell in with.

The captain and first mate are very good, kind-hearted men. They have both of them been made prisoners themselves, and have spent a year or more in England. They tell me that they lore the English, for that they were treated with the greatest kindness all the time they were in England, and that they wish to repay that kindness, though I must say they take an odd way to show their lore by fitting out a vessel to go and rob them on the high seas; but I suppose that is their profession, and they cannot help it."

While La Motte was speaking, a fine-looking man came up, and, taking him by the arm, addressed him as his _bon ami_, and told him that dinner was ready.

La Motte thanked him, and then told him that I was an old s.h.i.+pmate, and hoped that he would extend the same kindness to me that he had done to him.

My new friend was, I found, the mate of the privateer. He said certainly, and begged that I would at once come down and join them at dinner. At first I was inclined to refuse, as I thought Mr Randolph would consider me presuming if I was to go and sit down at table with him; but La Motte, finding that he was a sensible, good-natured young officer, undertook to explain matters to him.

We found Mr Randolph and the captain already seated at the table. La Motte, in a few words, explained that I was an old friend and s.h.i.+pmate of his, and that if I was not, I ought to be an officer, and hoped that he would not be offended.

Mr Randolph laughed, and said certainly not, and I soon felt at my ease.

The Frenchmen were in high glee at the number of prizes they had taken, and, as they had a fair wind, they folly expected in a couple of days, at furthest, to be safe within the harbour of Saint Malo. I knew from sad experience that there is many a slip between the cup and the lip, and I hoped that we might yet, before we reached the looked-for harbour, fall in with a man-of-war or a bigger privateer and be recaptured; of course I did not give expression to my wishes, but in such a chance my only hope rested of reaching home.

After dinner I went on deck again, and continued pacing up and down, anxiously scanning the horizon in the hope of discovering some sail coming in pursuit of us. Though I was aware that my presence on deck could not in any way bring about this result, still I could not tear myself away again till night closed down upon us.

La Motte then insisted on my coming below. "I told the Frenchmen something of your story," said he; "if I had not done so, they would have thought you discourteous, and your conduct somewhat strange.

However, they now enter into your feelings and pity you heartily."

"I am indeed obliged to you, La Motte," said I. "But somehow or other I do not like to have myself talked about. My feelings appear to me to be too sacred to be mentioned except to a friend."

"That is very natural and right," he answered. "But, believe me, Weatherhelm, I did what was for the best, and I am certain you will benefit by it."

At last I turned in for the night, and, wearied out with anxiety, fell asleep. I was conscious that I was on board the privateer, but I dreamed that we were chased and overtaken by a s.h.i.+p of war, and that just as her boat was boarding us we blew up. Then I found myself, with many of my companions, floating about in the water, without any s.h.i.+p in sight or means of escape.

At length I awoke, and the recollection of all that had occurred came pressing down on my heart like a heavy weight. Feeling that the cool, fresh air might revive me, I dressed and went on deck. It was bitterly cold, with a sharp northerly breeze blowing, the sky was of one uniform grey, while the water, which rose and fell without breaking, was of a dull leaden hue.

No prospect could have been more cheerless and uninviting. The _Mouche_, under all sail, was bowling on ahead, (I suspected that the French crew would have no little difficulty in keeping her afloat) while the lugger was acting the part of a whipper-in. I cast my eyes round the horizon. Away to the eastward they encountered a sail just rising above the water. I watched her for some time, till I was convinced that she was a large s.h.i.+p, and standing towards us.

At length she attracted the attention of the second mate, who was the officer of the watch. He began to eye her somewhat anxiously, and in a short time he sent down and called up the first mate. They looked at their own sails, and then at the stranger, and then at the _Mouche_, as if consulting what was to be done, and then finally called up the captain. They evidently could not at all satisfy themselves as to the character of the approaching s.h.i.+p.

I anxiously scanned their countenances; as I observed them falling, so my own hopes rose, that the sail in sight might prove an English s.h.i.+p of war. I tried in vain to conceal my own anxiety by walking up and down the deck, as I had done the day before.

The French officers seemed at length to have decided on some plan which satisfied them. The _Mouche_ had already made all the sail she could carry; she had royals set and studden sails out on either side, while the lugger followed, under her ordinary canvas, in her wake. While I was walking up and down, the first mate joined me.

"Ah, my friend!" said he, in very good English, "you hope the vessel in sight is a countryman. That is very natural. We hope that if she is, we shall escape her. We intend to do our best to get away, be a.s.sured of that. If, however, we are taken, you will remember that all Frenchmen are not savages, and that we were kind to you when you were our prisoners."

"Indeed we all shall," I replied. "I hope, indeed, whenever Frenchmen fall into the hands of the English, that my countrymen will always treat them with kindness and consideration."

"That is good; that is the right thing," said the mate. "If go to war we must, we need not make it more barbarous than it must be of necessity."

I was surprised to find these expressions proceeding from the mouth of a privateer's man. However, I believe that there were not many people of his cla.s.s like him. I certainly hoped that I might have an opportunity of showing him that I meant what I said, and that we should very soon again change our relative positions.

Mr Randolph, and La Motte, and the rest of the English prisoners, soon afterwards came on deck, and eagerly watched with me the progress of the stranger. There seemed to us very little doubt that she would cut us off before we could possibly reach Saint Malo.

As the day drew on, however, the weather gave signs of changing. The wind, which had been blowing steadily from the northward, chopped round to the north-west, and then to the westward, growing stronger and stronger, and very quickly kicking up an ugly sea, while thick rain began to fall, increasing every instant in density.

We Englishmen looked at each other, and as the rain fell thicker, so did our countenances fall lower and lower. The change of wind placed the lugger and her prize to windward, and the stranger far away to leeward, the thick rain almost shutting her out from sight.

The Frenchmen rubbed their hands, and blessed the wind and the rain, and commiserated us on our prospects of being carried to France. All we could hope was, that it would clear up again before the evening, and that the wind would s.h.i.+ft back into its old quarter.

We waited in vain for the change. Hour after hour pa.s.sed by. The wind blew great guns and small arms, and the rain came down in dense ma.s.ses, which completely shut out the stranger from our sight. I thought that probably the Frenchmen would alter their course, but we stood steadily on, only keeping up a little to be well to windward of our port, in case the wind should veer round more to the north-west. Evening at length came. It grew darker and darker; and with heavy hearts we prisoners had to abandon all hopes of rescue.

The night pa.s.sed away, while it was blowing and raining all the time till near the morning. As soon as it was daylight I hurried on deck.

The horizon was clear. With what eagerness I looked around; not a sail was in sight! The English s.h.i.+p, if such she was, finding herself so far to leeward, had probably abandoned all hope of overtaking us.

At length the coast of France hove in sight. We looked at it as likely to prove our home for many a weary day. It was past noon when we anch.o.r.ed in the harbour of Saint Malo, and I could not be surprised at the exultation of the Frenchmen, when they found themselves surrounded by no less than five prizes, which they had taken in the course of two or three weeks.

Their friends in numbers came off to welcome them, and brought all sorts of wines and spirits, and provisions from the sh.o.r.e, far more indeed than the crew could by possibility consume. The wine and spirits, however, seemed to be most welcome, and the crew, having an abundance of wherewithal to carouse, sat down to make themselves happy. Never have I heard a set of human beings jabber away at the rate they did; they laughed, and sang, and pledged each other without cessation.

La Motte, who was listening to them, told me that they were boasting of all the deeds they had done, or would do, or had heard of being done, till they were satisfied that their nation was not only the greatest, the richest, the wisest, the most happy in the world, but that none ever had or would come up to her.

Just before dark, the captain took Mr Randolph on sh.o.r.e; but he observed that he could not take us there, and that we must wait on board till the following morning.

The first mate came up to La Motte and me, and observed that he should have to go on sh.o.r.e likewise. "If you go, remember that you will have to be shut up in a prison, and that you will not find very pleasant," he remarked significantly. He looked aft as he spoke, when we observed hanging on at the stern one of the boats belonging to the prize. "Wise men know how to take a hint. All I can say is, that I feel most kindly disposed towards you; and if you land in France, I will do my best to ameliorate your condition, but that will be but little, remember."

We thanked him cordially for his kindness, and then he called the only two sober men of the crew, and ordered them to pull him on sh.o.r.e in another boat. Of course there was not the slightest doubt as to what he meant. The means of escape were offered us. The only question remaining was how to make use of them. The boat hanging on astern was about 25 feet long. I had often examined her on board the _Mouche_.

She was in good condition, and not a bad sea-boat, I judged from her appearance. Her sails and oars were in her, and I had little doubt that our good friend the mate had had them put into her on purpose to aid us.

Thus far, all was well, but we had many difficulties still to contend with. Our next care was to ascertain who would accompany us in our adventure.

There were altogether fifteen prisoners remaining on board besides ourselves. I knew that I could depend on Andrews, and so I could on Jones. They both eagerly jumped at our proposal, and expressed themselves ready to run all risks for the sake of reaching England.

Their only regret was, that Mr Randolph was not on board to accompany us. We concluded that the captain had been compelled to take him on sh.o.r.e, as English officers were always looked on as great prizes by the French, and he might have got into trouble had he escaped.

We went quietly round among all the prisoners, and invited them one by one to join us, with the exception of three or four, who had accepted the invitations of the Frenchmen to drink with them, and had now as little sense remaining in their heads as their hosts.

When La Motte and I went up to them to see what could be done, they could only exclaim, holding up their gla.s.ses, "Come here, old fellows!

The Frenchmen's liquor is good, and they are jolly c.o.c.ks, and we never wish for better companions. Come now, take a gla.s.s, you'll not taste finer anywhere."

When we declined joining them, they jeered and laughed at us, and called us milksops, so that we soon saw that they would in all probability betray us if we attempted to induce them to join us.

Two men, who were sober, declined, saying that they would rather go to a French prison than trust themselves in a small open boat in mid-winter in the Channel. As they were somewhat sickly, perhaps they were right in their decision. They promised, however, to help us as far as they were able, and vowed that they would rather die than betray us.

The carouse of the Frenchmen continued. First, they made long speeches about liberty, equality, and fraternity, and then they sang till they were hoa.r.s.e, and then they began hugging each other and shrieking, and lastly, they got up and danced and skipped and frisked about, till tripping up their heels they toppled down on deck, and lay sprawling about unable to move. Now and then one tried to rise, but all he could do was to reach a bottle, and to pour a little more liquor down his throat, which soon finished him off completely, and he, like the rest, lay utterly senseless and inanimate.

It was now night, and time to make our preparations. The privateer's-men's friends had brought on board a large supply of provisions. These we set to work to collect, and we calculated that we should have enough to last us for several days. But without water we could not venture to sea. There was none on deck, so we had to grope about below to find it. Great indeed was our satisfaction, therefore, when we suddenly came upon two breakers, each holding nine or ten gallons, and full of water. We soon had them up on deck, and rolled them to the side, ready to be lowered into the boat. We now hauled her up alongside, and got everything we had collected stowed away in her.

"But we must not go without a compa.s.s," said La Motte, "I remember seeing one in the captain's cabin. I am sure that he would let us have it. Perhaps he has left it out on purpose."

Such we had every reason to believe was the case, for in a minute La Motte returned bringing a well-fitted boat compa.s.s, which was just suited for our purpose. We also got hold of a lantern and a quant.i.ty of candles, and we threw as many greatcoats and blankets into the boat as we could collect, for it was bitterly cold, and we had reason to dread its effects more than anything else.

We should have started at once, but La Motte told us that he had overheard some of the Frenchmen talking of a guard-boat which came round the harbour once, at all events, during the night, somewhere about ten o'clock, and that it would be wiser in us to wait till she had gone by.

Accordingly we veered our boat astern, and agreed to wait till then.