Wilson's Tales of the Borders and of Scotland Volume XX Part 24

Tom now took the command, and it required all his exertions and skill to save him from the privateer; for the crew of the _Tweed_, regardless of everything else, had been looking at their commander like persons stupified, allowing the vessel to go as she pleased. The Frenchman had perceived their confusion, and was pressing on to take advantage of it; and the crew of the _Tweed_ could perceive the men cl.u.s.tering along the yards as thick as bees. Tom, however, again pa.s.sed him without allowing the Frenchman to board; but, unfortunately, the broadside which was poured into the _Tweed_ shot away the jib-hal-yards, and the large sail came down into the water. Three cheers from the Frenchmen followed this accident, which promised them a certain victory; for not only was the smack deprived of the a.s.sistance of the jib in sailing, but the dragging of the sail through the water impeded materially her progress.

All now seemed lost, when Tom, resigning the helm to one of the men, sprung forward; and, seizing hold of the end of the halyards, mounted the rigging, and, in spite of the showers of shot fired at him from the Frenchman's tops, succeeded in again reeving it through the block; and, by the a.s.sistance of the wynch, the jib again rose to its former place.

The Frenchman, thus baffled in all his attempts, resolved to make a last effort; and, crowding all sail, came rapidly upon the weather or starboard quarter. "Ready about!" sung out Tom; and, as the smack shot up head to the wind, he gave the order to fire--which order was no sooner obeyed than a dreadful shriek rose from the privateer; and the first sight which greeted the eyes of the _Tweed_'s crew after the smoke had cleared, was their enemy, standing away before the wind under a press of sail. Simultaneous cheers burst from the lips of the men, as they beheld this not less pleasing than unexpected sight, and they were joined by old Bill, who, weak and faint as he was, raised his hand, and cheered with his crew.

"We've given him a parting salute," said Bill Mossman, grinning with delight, through a face all begrimed with powder and smoke. "My eye, only look there!--he seems to be in as great a hurry as a dog with a kettle at his tail."

"Ay, we have peppered his cannister for him," said Jem Ward--"the lousy rascal that he is! I am only sorry that we did not take him."

The crew being now free from danger, crowded round old Bill, who was still lying on the deck, with Tom at his side; and, in their own, hearty, honest, though blunt manner, inquired how he felt.

"Better than ever I did in my life," answered the old sailor. "No doubt, I have got a shot which may compel me to lay up in ordinary a sheer hulk for the rest of my life, if it don't make me kick the bucket altogether; but haven't we beat a French privateer nearly three times our size, and with ten times our men? I tell you, my brave fellows, that this is the proudest and happiest day of my life. And you, Tom," said he, addressing his son, "have behaved like your father's son--and that's saying something."

The sailors now proceeded to remove Bill below; and Tom, whose eagerness to inform Catherine and her father of their success, had only been restrained by his filial affection, rushed down to the cabin to tell them the joyful news. When he entered, he found Mr Keveley and his daughter seated, with their hands locked together; and, as he entered, they clung closer to each other, as if preparing for the worst.

It would be impossible to describe the joy which animated Catherine's face when Tom told them the happy tidings--joy danced in her blue eyes, which were alternately fixed upon him or her father. Surprise, at first, prevented her speech, till her emotion found vent in a flood of tears.

Mr Keveley bore the news more composedly than his daughter. He first embraced her, then came and shook Tom heartily by the hand.

"And has the Frenchman really run off?" asked Catherine, when she had recovered her speech. "You must have had warm work of it, if we may judge from your appearance," added she, with a playful smile. Tom turned his head for an instant to a mirror, which was hanging up on one side of the cabin, and in it beheld his countenance, so soiled with powder and perspiration, that he scarcely recognised his own features.

After wiping away the drops of sweat, which were coursing each other down his cheeks, and ploughing up large furrows on the indented soot, Tom took his departure to attend his father, whom he found pretty well, though much exhausted from loss of blood. After the old man's wound had been dressed, as well as circ.u.mstances would admit, a warm soothing potion, administered by Mr Keveley, who understood something of medicine, was given, which, having drunk, he fell into a comfortable sleep.

A consultation was now held upon deck, as to the course to be pursued.

Some advised that they should proceed on their voyage, whilst some were for running back to Yarmouth Roads, to see if the frigate, which they had pa.s.sed on the previous morning, still remained, in order that they might give intelligence as to the route of the Frenchman.

The last plan was adopted, and the vessel was put before the wind--only stopping, as she pa.s.sed, to inform each of her consorts of the particulars of the engagement. The crews of the vessels cheered the _Tweed_, as she pa.s.sed with her flag at her gaff, and with the union now upwards, instead of being inverted as formerly. The wind being fair, they soon reached the Roads, and to their great joy beheld the frigate still lying in the same situation as when they had pa.s.sed her. Tom immediately bore down upon her; and the watch on board the frigate hailed--"What s.h.i.+p, ahoy?"--"The _Tweed_, from London to Leith and Berwick--have been engaged for two hours with a large French privateer, and have beaten him off."

"What direction did he steer?" was the next question asked.

"Direct S.E.," was the answer, "and, if you look sharp, you may still catch her--she is a large black brig, low in the water, with her main-mast raking over her stern." The boatswain's whistle was now heard on board the frigate, calling all hands to weigh anchor; in an instant, the s.h.i.+p was all life and animation; and such is the effect of strict discipline, that, in a few minutes, the frigate was under way, with every inch of canva.s.s set which could be crowded upon her spars, in pursuit of the privateer.

Tom, seeing that everything had been done as he wished, again made sail to the northward. After a short time, he arrived at Leith, where his consorts had already conveyed the news of the engagement. As the _Tweed_ entered the harbour, crowds of people, attracted by the news of the victory, lined the sh.o.r.e; whilst the crews of every vessel cheered her as she pa.s.sed. Old Bill, whose wound was not at all dangerous, was able to come upon deck; and the old man's gratification was complete, on observing the joy which their arrival diffused amongst all cla.s.ses.

After the _Tweed_ had been moored alongside of the wharf, a coach was provided, into which old Bill, with Mr Keveley and his daughter, entered, and proceeded to the old man's house; but the populace, who observed what was going forward, took out the horses, and drew the coach along the streets, with the loudest acclamations.

During the whole time that the _Tweed_ lay at Leith, her decks were never free from people, who, most of them, brought brandy and whisky to regale the sailors. In such abundance were these articles supplied, that they not only were sufficient for the _Tweed_'s own crew, but served for a jollification to every sailor in the harbour; and such a scene of feasting, dancing, and merriment went on, as was never witnessed by Leith either before or since. The same reception awaited the _Tweed_ on her arrival at London, where they found the privateer with whom they had been engaged, lying alongside of the frigate, who had taken her, after a long chase. On making inquiries, they learned that the Frenchman had lost twenty-five men, with nine wounded--their last broadside having killed the lieutenant.

Old Bill rapidly recovered from his wound, which was not dangerous; and he was soon enabled to take command of his vessel, which had made two or three voyages to London under the command of Tom.

Mr and Miss Keveley had retired to the village of Norham, beautifully situated on the banks of the Tweed, where they continued for some time with Tom's aunt, Mrs Burton. The old gentleman, finding that his native air was beneficial to his wasted const.i.tution, resolved to settle there for the remainder of his days; and he accordingly rented a neat cottage at the extremity of the village.

Here Tom had frequent opportunities of becoming better acquainted with Catherine; and every time he beheld her, she improved in his regard. It was on the second voyage, after old Bill had again taken possession of his vessel, that he and his son Tom were conversing together on deck.

After a few preliminary hems, the old man began:--

"Tom, my boy, I have been thinking that it is now time you had a wife--a sailor is never comfortable till he gets married."

Tom replied, that he thought it time enough.

"What would you think of Miss Keveley for a wife?" asked Bill, without attending to his son's reply.

"The only fault I could find with her is, that she is too good for me.

Do you think," continued he, "that Miss Keveley would ever marry a sailor?"

"As unlikely s.h.i.+ps as that have come to land before now," replied Bill; "and wherefore should Miss Keveley not marry you? Haven't you seventy pounds a-year left you by your grandmother? and an't you my only son?

And you know I've several shares in the company's vessels, besides something else that you know of; and when the old woman and myself are brought up in the next world, sha'nt you have it all?"

Tom a.s.sented to all this, but shook his head.

"Try her, my boy," said Bill--"faint heart never won fair lady, as they say at the fairs, when they wish you to try your luck at the 'rouly-pouly.' I was talking about it myself to the old gentleman not long ago; he highly approves of the match, provided you and his daughter could agree; and Mr Keveley added, that he believed you would not meet a refusal, as his daughter seemed never tired of talking about your exploits, or of hearing of them; so that you see it all depends upon yourself."

Tom, encouraged by these words, resolved, when the vessel should reach Berwick, to set out for Norham; which design he put in execution, a few days after, setting out from Berwick about six in the evening.

After reaching the village, he quickly pa.s.sed through it to where Mr Keveley's cottage stood. It was a sweet summer evening; and when Tom approached the house, the setting sun was illuminating the windows with his departing rays. A little garden fronted the cottage; and the honeysuckle and jessamine, which had crept up its front, were spreading their fragrance all around. The window of the little parlour looked to the west; it was opened, and Tom heard the sound of a musical instrument, accompanied by a low female voice. He listened for a moment to catch if possible the air, but it seemed a foreign song which the musician was playing. At last, he went up to the door and knocked, whilst his heart went pit-a-pat with emotion. Mr Keveley had gone out, and he found Catherine alone in the parlour. She received him with her usual sweet smile of welcome, and bade him be seated. Tom strove to appear at ease, but his anxiety prevented him, and his confusion was such as to attract the notice of Catherine, who asked him if he was unwell.

"Not exactly that," said Tom; "but"----Here he made a full pause.

"But what?" asked Catherine, unable to divine the cause of his uneasiness.

"Well," said Tom, at length taking courage, "I may as well out with it at once. The truth is, Miss Keveley, I love you dearly; but could never have had the courage to make this declaration, had your father not approved of it."

It was now Catherine's turn to blush, and be silent; at length, regaining the use of her tongue, she replied--"It would not only be affectation, but ingrat.i.tude in me, to affect indifference, where my heart is really interested; and, as you say my father sanctions your addresses, there is my hand;--if you think it worth your acceptance, it is at your service."

Tom, unable to contain himself, took her hand, and pressed it to his lips. "I leave you to yourself," said he "for a few minutes, to recover from your confusion"--so saying, he went out for a little; and met Mr Keveley, just returning from a visit to a friend at a little distance, to whom he communicated the pleasing intelligence of his happiness. Mr Keveley took Tom by the hand, and, having embraced him--

"I shall now leave this world," said he, "without a wish unsatisfied. It was the only desire of my heart, before bidding a final adieu to all sublunary things, to see my daughter with a protector for life; and I am glad she has made choice of an honest man, and one every way so deserving of her." So saying, he led Tom back to the parlour, where Catherine still remained seated. After joining their hands, the old gentleman uttered a benediction over them, and embraced them both with much tenderness.

After a short time, Tom took his leave, but not before Catherine had promised that their marriage should take place on an early day.

About a fortnight after, on a fine forenoon, the village grocer at Norham was standing at his door, and gazing after a crowd which had pa.s.sed; as he stood looking, a man dressed like a grazier came up, and, after the accustomed salutation of "How's a' wi' ye the day?" asked him what he was "glowrin" at.

"I have just been lookin at the weddin which has pa.s.sed," answered the grocer; "an' sic a braw sicht hasna been seen in the village for mony a day."

"Wha's weddin is it?" asked the grazier.

"It's the daughter of ane Mr Keveley, who has settled in this place for some time--and a bonny la.s.sie she is; and they say, she's as guid as she's bonny. She's married to ane Jones, son o' auld Bill Jones, maister o' the smack which beat the Frenchman no very lang syne yet. Every one o' the smack's crew are at the weddin; an' sic a set o' merry jovial blades were never thegither in this place afore. The folks are like to stifle them wi' kindness. But what's the queerest thing of a' is, that they a' cam oot here, this mornin, in a boat."

"In a boat!" exclaimed the grazier, in amazement--"on dry land?"

"Ay, in a boat," replied the grocer--"a lang boat, mounted upon a lang cart; an' there were they a' seated in it, wi' ribbons fleein; an' wi'

the Union, as they ca' the flag which hung at the s.h.i.+p's mast when they beat the Frenchman; an' the folks a' shoutin, an' the bairns skirling. I declare, thae sailors are a wheen born deevils for fun and frolic; but they are sic canty chiels, that ane canna help likin them the better for a' their nonsense. They ca' the lang boat the _Whim_; an', faith, she's weel named--for it's a whimsical idea."

The grocer and the grazier stood talking thus to each other, till the cavalcade returned from the church--Tom and his bride in an open, four-wheeled carriage, whilst the rest all followed in the boat already mentioned.

Little of our story now remains to be told. After his marriage, Tom went to sea for a few years, in command of the _Tweed_; but, on the death of Mr Keveley, he retired to Norham, where he took the cottage which the old gentleman had inhabited.

Pa.s.sing lately through the churchyard of T----, we went up to the grave of old Bill Jones. A neat, marble tombstone had been raised to his memory, by his son and daughter. At the bottom was the following epitaph:--

"Though Neptune's waves and Boreas' storms Have tossed me to and fro, In spite of all, by G.o.d's decree, I anchor here below."