Woven with the Ship Part 34

We'll anchor the _Centaur_ close under the lee of the rock off the west side there. Call away a boat. Let Mr. Maurice go in charge, and I myself will accompany him. We'll examine into the situation."

The investigation under the commodore proved the practicability of the bold scheme proposed by the young lieutenant. The _Centaur_ was anch.o.r.ed close under the lee of the cliff, and with incredible labor five of her big guns--three long twenty-four-pounders and two eighteen-pounders--were landed on the rock. One end of a heavy cable was fastened to the main-topmast and the other was secured to the top of the cliff. Up this by means of a traveller the heavy guns were dragged. One of the twenty-four-pounders had been fitted upon a circular carriage commanding the landing-place, another was mounted on the northeast side, and the third upon a platform about midway up the rock. The two eighteen-pounders were planted on the very summit and commanded an immense distance. When the commodore had decided to undertake the manning of the rock, Maurice had sought an interview with him and explained his reason for aspiring to the command of the landing party, which would, in the natural course of events, be given to a much older man.

"So your marriage with little Dot Venour depends on your commanding something with a pennant fluttering above, does it? Lord!" roared the commodore, bursting into deep sea laughter, "and you want to hoist your juvenile broad pennant on this rock, and then you'll want to claim all sorts of privileges, you young dog! I didn't think that baby was old enough to be married yet, nor you either. Get along with you!

I don't know what my old friend Venour would say if I'd be a party to this mad purpose of yours by giving you the command of this expedition. There, lad, go to your duty; I'll think about it," added the commodore, exploding with mirth again.

He thought so well about it, however, that when all preparations had been made, to the very great disgust of the older officers of the s.h.i.+p, he detailed Maurice to the command of the party. On account of his lack of rank, his junior officers were all mids.h.i.+pmen. He and the four mids.h.i.+pmen and one hundred and twenty men and boys, including some of the best seamen, composed the landing party, with four months'

supply of provisions and ammunition. As the _Centaur_ got under way and beat up toward Fort Royal, Maurice tore open an envelope the commodore had handed him when he bade him good-by. It was a commission and orders to command H. B. M.'s sloop-of-war _Diamond Rock_, five guns and one hundred and twenty men! He almost fell over the precipice in surprise and delight at the situation.

The rock was entirely barren except on the north-west side, where a little depression existed in which there was a group of stunted wild fig-trees. There were two or three caves half-way up to the summit, dry and airy, the floors covered with fine sand, of which the officers chose the smallest, the men another, and all hands made themselves very much at home. The crew was divided into watches, a station bill made out, lookouts appointed, and the regular routine of a man-of-war begun.

They had not long to wait to demonstrate their usefulness. Two days after the departure of the _Centaur_ the lookout on the top of the rock saw a frigate under a tremendous press of canvas endeavoring to run between the rock and the sh.o.r.e and make for Fort Royal. Far away, and coming along like a gigantic white cloud, was a s.h.i.+p which was presently made out to be the _Centaur_. A drummer-boy, not the least important member of the crew of the _Diamond Rock_, beat to quarters, the men sprang to their stations, and the huge guns were loaded and carefully trained on the unsuspicious French s.h.i.+p. She came booming along at a terrific pace. Maurice, with a coolness remarkable in one so young, waited until she was well in range, and then, taking careful aim, with the long twenty-four half-way up the summit, ignited the priming.

With a terrific roar the ball sped straight to its mark. They were too far away to hear the crash as it struck the fore-topmast, but the fall of the mast and the confusion on the s.h.i.+p were plainly visible. With hearty British cheers the rest of the battery let drive at the oncoming frigate. One of the eighteens carried away the jib-stay and the jib-halliards. There was great consternation on the French frigate. No one had dreamed of an enemy in that quarter, and before they could make up their minds what to do a second broadside was poured upon them from the rock. Clearly the pa.s.s was untenable. The captain of the frigate was a good seaman, and he promptly turned about and made for the sea again. He hoped to escape the _Centaur_ by his speed, but the old s.h.i.+p-of-the-line had the wind and heels of him now and she came rus.h.i.+ng down upon the frigate. After a long pursuit and a gallant endeavor the French captain found himself under the _Centaur's_ guns. There was nothing to do but to surrender. Throwing a prize crew on board, the _Centaur_ ran off toward the rock. When near enough to be seen a string of flags fluttered out from the mizzen-topgallant yard-arm, and the delighted youngsters on the rock read the following:

"Well done, Captain Maurice!"

The men on the _Centaur_ might have almost heard the cheers with which the men and boys on the rock greeted the signal. It had leaked out somehow that the young lieutenant whom they all loved, and to whose forethought the manning of the rock was due, was in some way fighting for his sweetheart as well as his country, and, above all men, the sailor loves a lover.

Scarcely a week pa.s.sed without a brush with the enemy, and some months elapsed before the French learned that the pa.s.sage which they had used with so much skill and success was finally closed to them, and, save at night, no vessels attempted the channel--not many then. There had been plenty of excitement during this period, but now all was changed.

The _Centaur_ and other s.h.i.+ps sailed away, and the crew on the rock had little or no communication with the sh.o.r.e for over a year longer.

Their provisions and water were replenished every quarter by a frigate, which was despatched for the purpose. Otherwise they seemed to have been forgotten. The novelty of the situation had worn off, and the monotony had begun to pall upon them dreadfully. Maurice and his young officers were at their wit's end to find employment for the men and keep them in good spirits. The discipline was, of course, sternly maintained, but, sailor-like, the men tired of the sh.o.r.e and pined for the unsteady deck of a s.h.i.+p; in addition, Maurice longed for Dorothy.

He had not been able to send a word, nor had he received a line from that young lady. He was too proud to write to the commodore by one of the provisioning s.h.i.+ps, and ask for relief.

One evening about the middle of May, 1805, when the provision-s.h.i.+p was about due on its quarterly trip, the watchers on the rock saw a great fleet of sixteen sail-of-the-line, seven frigates, three corvettes, and a number of smaller vessels, all flying the French flag, running through the channel toward Fort Royal. With joy in their hearts at the opportunity for action, the five guns on the stony sloop-of-war promptly opened fire upon the great French and Spanish fleet of M. de Villeneuve, who was prosecuting his attempt to befool Nelson by giving him that mad chase across the Atlantic and back which ended at Trafalgar.

The French s.h.i.+ps returned the fire as they came within range of the rock, and their tremendous broadsides kicked up a deal of noise and cut up the face of the rock somewhat, but did no other damage. The crew of the rock made excellent practice, and, considering their force, rendered the pa.s.sage interesting to the French. The ennui of the intervening months was forgotten. Villeneuve was furious. Never before had one lieutenant, four mids.h.i.+pmen, and one hundred-odd men (some of them had died during the sojourn) engaged successfully a splendid fleet of line-of-battle-s.h.i.+ps. Toward evening one belated Spanish s.h.i.+p unsuspiciously attempted to anchor near the rock, but she was soon driven off with much loss. The elated Englishmen saw the fleet anchor at Fort Royal, now called, in deference to the republican form of government of France, Fort de France. Villeneuve, who was furiously angry, learned from the French at Fort de France that the formidable barrier was held by a handful of men, so he determined to capture the rock, and for that purpose, on the 29th of May, he detached a squadron consisting of the _Pluton_ and _Berwick_, 74's, the frigate _Sirene_, 36, the _Argus_, 16, an armed schooner, and eleven gun-boats under the command of Commodore Cosmao, of the _Pluton_, with four hundred troops-of-the-line.

The rock had been blockaded ever since the arrival of the fleet at Martinique. When Maurice saw the s.h.i.+ps bearing down upon him at break of day on the 31st of June, 1805, he knew what to expect. Owing to the fact that the supply-s.h.i.+p, which was due, had not arrived,--because of the blockade, doubtless, and the presence of the great French fleet,--Maurice unfortunately found himself with but a scanty supply of powder and shot. He determined to abandon two of the lower guns and concentrate his force about the eighteen-pounders and the twenty-four-pounder half-way up. Spiking the lower guns, thus destroying the battery, he withdrew to the summit of his command. For two days the s.h.i.+ps were anch.o.r.ed near by, the mild weather permitting them to come close in. During this period the French poured an unremitting hail of shot upon the stone batteries of the rocky vessel.

Maurice and his men answered the fire slowly but with great precision from their three remaining guns. Three of the gun-boats and two other small boats were sunk, and the larger s.h.i.+ps were much cut up. The young captain might have protracted his defence indefinitely had not his powder entirely failed him. Observing the English fire to slacken, the French finally landed their troops on the beach at the foot of the rock. The last charge of the twenty-four hurled its iron missive of death among the Frenchmen huddled on the beach. Then, like a flock of goats, they sprang at the cliffs and clambered up the steep sides of the rock, which the fire of the s.h.i.+ps cleared with showers of grape-shot. A feeble musketry-fire, for the small cartridges had been torn to contribute powder for the great guns, met them, but they came boldly on. As they swarmed over the rock Maurice and some of the older men struck at the advancing French with their swords. The two men nearest him were killed and he himself was badly wounded. There was nothing left but surrender. A French officer hauled down the English flag. The young captain had lost his first command. H. B. M.'s sloop-of-war _Diamond Rock_ had pa.s.sed into the hands of Admiral Villeneuve.

When the young captain recovered his senses in the cabin of the _Bucentaur_, the flag-s.h.i.+p of the French admiral, bound for Europe again, he did not know whether or not he had won Dorothy Venour.

III.--THE REWARD

Early in November, a week or so after the great battle of Trafalgar, which the young captain witnessed from the deck of the French s.h.i.+p, from which in the confusion he escaped to the _Victory_, where he did good service until the close of the action, he was landed at Portsmouth once more. In his pocket he bore two doc.u.ments, one dated a year and a half back, and the other but yesterday. Led by an instinct which he could not explain, instead of going up to Captain Venour's house on the hill, he made his way through the town and along the beach toward that sheltered little cove from which he had taken his departure two years before. As he turned the point of rocks he saw a lonesome little figure seated on the sand, resting her chin in her hand and looking mournfully out over the sea. It was Dorothy. He stole up behind her, caught her under the arms, lifted her to her feet, and kissed her before she could utter a scream. When she recovered, however, she made up for her startled silence.

"Oh, Jim dear!" she cried, precipitating herself into his arms with a shriek of delight, "you look like a real man now!"

"I am a man, Dot darling," he replied, his eyes brightening as he saw her radiant face peeping out from the brown curls near his shoulder.

"Well, sir," exclaimed the deep voice of Captain Venour, coming down the beach,--singular how he always happened to be around at inopportune moments,--"you may be a man, but have you a command?"

"Oh, grandfather, he has command of me," cried Dorothy, archly, breaking away from her lover. "Won't I do?"

The old captain whistled.

"I've had command of a s.h.i.+p-of-the-line and I've tried to command one woman, but give me the s.h.i.+p-of-the-line," he answered, reflectively.

"No, you won't do."

"Captain Venour," remarked the young man, gravely, "I have had a command, sir, and in accordance with your agreement I have come to claim your granddaughter."

"What was your command, my lad?" asked the captain, facetiously, "a dinghy or a jolly-boat?"

"Neither, sir."

"A cutter, then?"

"No, sir."

"A brig or a sloop-of-war?"

"No, sir."

"Good heavens!" exclaimed the captain; "you don't mean to say you have been in charge of a frigate or a s.h.i.+p-of-the-line, a boy like you?"

"No, sir, not quite," said the young man.

"Well, what did you command? Did it have two masts?"

"It didn't have any masts, sir."

"No masts!"

"No, sir; it was a rock."

"Good Lord!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed the old man, sitting down feebly and staring.

"A rock? What do you mean? Are you trifling with me? That is no way to gain the la.s.s."

"Well, sir," answered Maurice, gravely, "here are my orders authorizing me to command His Majesty's sloop-of-war _Diamond Rock_, five guns and one hundred and twenty men. It's a great stone hill off Martinique. I commanded it for one year and six months, at the end of which we beat off M. de Villeneuve's great fleet, and were only captured when our powder gave out, by a heavy squadron which bombarded us for two days. I was wounded----"

"Oh, Jim, wounded!" cried Dorothy, with a shriek of alarm, rus.h.i.+ng toward him, while the dazed old man made no movement to prevent her.

"It is nothing, Dot darling," said the young fellow, manfully, but not making the slightest effort to avoid the caress. "I was wounded and taken on board the French flag-s.h.i.+p _Bucentaur_, from which I escaped to the _Victory_ at Trafalgar, where Nelson beat the French fleet."

"Hey? What?" cried the old man. "Beat the French? But, of course, we always do that."

"I saw him killed, sir," added young Maurice.

"Who killed?" exclaimed Captain Venour, in astonishment.

"Lord Nelson, sir; right in the height of the battle."

"Good G.o.d!" cried Captain Venour. "Nelson gone? He was a reefer under me on the _Hinchinbrook_. It can't be possible!"

"Yes, sir, it is," replied the young captain.

There was a long pause.