*CHAPTER XII*
*THE CAPTURE OF THE *_*GLORIEUSE*_
For some time Jack was too busy in navigating the vessel, too anxiouslylooking out for pursuers, to take stock of the situation on board the_Fury_. But as soon as he felt that he was fairly safe, he went roundthe cutter to inquire. One of his men and five Frenchmen had beenkilled in the boarding operations. These were at once committed to thedeep, for with a crew of nearly seventy, and twenty prisoners, there wasalready too little room on board. Many had been wounded on both sides;and Jack found that his men had the more serious, though not the mostnumerous, wounds; for while they had been pinked and slashed withcutlasses, the Frenchmen had received only bad bruises from the unusualweapons wielded by their opponents. Several of the men who had served inthe sick bay on English warships had already done their best--it was butlittle in those days of ignorance and unskilful surgery--to attend tothe wounded.
The French crew had apparently consisted of about forty men; arms forthat number were discovered. Among the prisoners were the captain andlieutenant, whom Jack at once sought out and invited to share the cabinwith himself. They were very crestfallen at their defeat; but when Jack,mustering his best French (which was not very good), made his best bow(which was charming), and said--"_Je vous restore, Messieurs, vos epees,pour vous--vous--vous_--(Hang it! What's the French for 'show'?)--_pourvous displayer mon admiration de votre brave--_. (Can't think of theFrench for 'fight.')--_votre courage dans la bataille_"--when Jack cameto the end of this halting speech and smiled very unaffectedly, theFrenchmen returned his smile and his bow, and the captain, as hereceived his sword, said fervently:
"_Monsieur, je vous rends grace de votre noble conduite, qui est digne,assurement, d'un honnete homme._"
Jack bowed and smiled again, wondering what he had done that wasspecially "honest." Like many another Jack since then, he was too aptto jump to conclusions.
He had never navigated the Channel, but he set the course of the cutterby the compass, intending to run as straight as he could for Wynport.Toward daybreak the wind shifted to the southeast and then to thesouthwest, and to Jack's disappointment dropped to a light breezescarcely strong enough to disperse the thin fog that lay over the sea.There seemed little hope of a quick passage to the English coast. Jackwas speculating on his chances of getting clear of the French shore whenhe was startled by the cry:
"Sail on the weather-bow, sir."
Diving into the cabin, he snatched up a spyglass and eagerly scanned theapproaching vessel, which was coming up Channel, bringing a strongbreeze with her. She was showing no colors, but there was somethingabout her cut that made him feel a little uncomfortable. Turning toBabbage, who stood by, he handed him the spy-glass, saying:
"French?"
"French she be, sir, leastways furrin, and a spanking brig."
Jack looked a little blue.
It was difficult to estimate distances in the haze, but the strangercould scarcely be more than a mile away. Every now and again a gust ofwind lifted the fog, and if Jack attempted to put about the movementwould almost certainly be seen. Even if he could outsail theapproaching vessel before the wind, which was at least doubtful, herbow-chasers would badly cripple him before he could run out of range.
"What chance have we of escaping, if she is French?" he said to Babbage,who was standing by his side.
"Not a brass farden's worth, sir. She carries thirty guns at the least;and if there is a man aboard that can shoot, she can hull us easy aswinking without changing her course."
"That's bad, then."
"And worse to foller, sir, as brother Sol used to say."
Jack mentally anathematized brother Sol, who must have been a very Job'scomforter. The outlook was black enough. Visions of a French prisonagain rose before him--if indeed prison should be his lot, for theFrench, if they captured him, might deal summarily with him in revengefor the men they had lost.
Babbage sat down on the deck and began to sharpen his cutlass.
"A nice little bit of arm-work coming, sir," he said cheerfully. "Incourse we'll fight 'em?"
Jack shook his head.
"That's the last thing I should think of doing--at present."
"Well, sir, she's coming on at a spanking rate, and if we're going torun, the sooner the better--meaning no offense, sir."
"We must either keep her closer to the wind, and hope to pass withoutnotice, or put the helm up and run for it. We'd have a bare chance ofoutsailing her then."
"Yes, sir, and she'd give us her broadside fust and foller it up withher stern-chasers. She'd blow us out of the water, as sure as eggs iseggs, when they bean't pickles."
Jack stood for a few moments, gloomily pondering this desperate case.All at once his face brightened.
"I say, Babbage, we'll fight her."
"And God save the king, sir," replied the veteran, lifting his hat, andthen vigorously whetting his blade.
The course which had suggested itself to Jack was one that he wouldscarcely have imagined in cold blood; but in the present crisis itseemed to him preferable to either of the two he had before mentioned.He had seventy men on board, thirty more than the cutter would havecarried in the ordinary way. Most of them were well armed; and, well asBritish seamen always fought, they could be trusted in the presentcircumstances to outdo themselves, for defeat meant utter destruction.Could he lull the Frenchmen's suspicions for a few minutes? If hecould!--well, the chance of success was small, but the smallest wasbetter than none at all.
"Yes, by George! I'll do it!" he said to himself.
And he lost no time. He was astonished at the quickness with which hismind worked in forming his plan. Orders came to his lips in short,sharp sentences, and, thanks to the readiness of old Babbage and thefine discipline of the seamen, they were carried out as promptly asgiven.
A score of men went below, and in a few seconds returned to the deck,looking like Frenchmen. They had stripped the outer garments from theprisoners. Their weapons were completely concealed. Five men withloaded muskets stood guard over the real Frenchmen, four held themselvesready to board, with boat anchors as grapnels. The rest of the men,equipped with all the available armament, concealed themselves below,out of sight from the approaching vessel, but ready for action at amoment's notice.
These preparations were still being made when the French flag was run upon the brig. In response Jack hoisted the French colors found on board,and, bringing the cutter a point or two closer into the wind, made as ifto hail the larger vessel. When only half a cable's length separatedthem he shouted:
"Ho! Hola!"
There was an answering shout from the brig. So far, at any rate, nosuspicion had been aroused. Jack felt himself thrill with excitementand suspense; everything depended on the result of the next move.Turley was at the helm, his lips set, his eyes never leaving themidshipman's face. Two or three seconds after the hail Jack gave theword; Turley put the helm hard up, and the cutter, paying off from thewind, ran alongside the brig to the manifest amazement of the Frenchmen,the captain swearing with anger at what he supposed was rashness orutter stupidity on the part of the cutter's commander.
Barely two yards now separated the vessels, the side of the brig seemingto tower over the cutter. At a sign from Jack the men with the grapnelsleaped up, and cast them in at the open ports of the brig. The ropesattached to them were instantly secured to stanchions on the cutter'sdeck, and with a slight movement of the tiller Turley brought the twohulls together.
Even before they touched, twenty men from the _Fury's_ deck wereclambering up the main chains of the brig, and forty more were swarmingfrom below in support. By this time the French captain had realizedthat the commander of the cutter was neither stupid nor rash, but adare-devil of an Englishman. Those were Englishmen's cries that heheard, mingling with the uproar made by his own men. Everything was inconfusion. Only the marines were armed. What French captain would havedreamed o
f meeting a little English cutter so near his own coast? Whataudacity, what unjustifiable impertinence, for so small a vessel toengage a thirty-two gun brig, with a complement of probably two hundredmen! It was ridiculous, thought the captain, even as he gathered hismen for the fight.
He was taken by surprise, but what then? Snatching up any weapons thatcame handy, the Frenchmen came pouring out of the hatchways and from allquarters of the deck, and, forming a little knot, endeavored to stem therush of the boarders. They fought, as Frenchmen always fight, gallantlyand with fierce courage; but a boarding party of English seamen is noteasily checked.
Jack at the head of a dozen men had already driven a group of the enemyfrom the fore deck into the foc's'le when, glancing aft, he saw thatBabbage and a small band were in desperate straits. Sword in one hand,pistol in the other, the French captain was pressing them hard at thehead of twenty well-armed marines and three of his officers. Theremainder of Jack's party had scattered in pursuit of the enemy on thelower deck; and a hand-to-hand fight was raging near the armory, fromwhich the watch below were hastily equipping themselves. It wasimpossible for Jack to collect his men; yet if Babbage and his gallantband were overcome all would be over.
"You four, watch the foc's'le!" he shouted. "Come on, you others!Babbage ahoy!"
With a shout he dashed aft, a dozen men bellowing as they sprang afterhim. Flash went a pistol; the clashing of cutlasses mingled with thevarious cries of the men; and Jack, cleaving his way through the presstoward the old bo'sun's side, found himself face to face with the Frenchcaptain. He had but just time to parry a shrewd thrust of theFrenchman's sword when a blow from a French sailor's pike, which musthave killed him outright had it not been partly diverted by Babbage,fell obliquely upon his head with such force that he stumbled,staggered, and dropped senseless to the deck. His last conscious momentwas filled with the din of fighting and the roar of his men.
"Mr. Babbage!"
"Wot?"
"I axe your pardon, true."
"Wot for?"
"For calling of you Artichokes, Sparrow-grass, Turnip-tops, and Cabbage.Wi' young Mr. Hardy a-lying here with all his senses knocked out of him,I couldn't abear to think as how I hurt your feelings, Mr. Babbage. Iaxe your pardon."
"Granted, Turley, granted, and more to foller," said Babbage, holdingout a horny hand, which Turley grasped in one equally hard. Each manlooked at the other, so long that they did not perceive that Jack's eyeswere open, and that he was smiling.
"Oh, you solemn old donkeys!" he exclaimed. "You know you've beenfriends at heart all along."
They looked sheepish, like boys detected in something unboyish.
"Ah, sir," said Babbage, "brother Sol used to say 'tis not actions wotmatter, 'tis feelings."
"Brother Sol was wrong, then. I shouldn't be feeling so dizzy but forthe action of some Frenchman who got a cut at me. What's happened,Babbage?"
"The ship's ourn, sir, and we're making for Portsmouth."
"Hurray! Tell me about it!"
"Well, sir, arter you was down we got our monkeys up. 'Twas all over inhalf a minute. Turley and Mudge and a dozen more went at 'em 'longsideo' me; we drove 'em back; Mudge tumbled the captain over, and the resthauled down their colors and cried for quarter. Then me and some morejumped down the gangway and cleared the lower deck, where some mounseerswas scrambling round the arm-chest. Bless you! it didn't last long.They did their best, to be sure, but we did better; and the end of itwas they all flung down their pikes and cutlasses and gave in. Then webrought you down here into the captain's cabin; I put the ship about,and cast off the _Fury_ with ten men in her; she's following in our wakenow, sir."
"Capital! And what of the prisoners?"
"Tied up, sir. There's a hundred and forty, sir, all told, and beingsuch a terrible lot more than us I couldn't leave 'em loose. They'resitting on the lower deck, side by side, twenty of them slung on to onerope, and for every twenty there's a man with a musket. They don'tunderstand plain English, sir, but they understand a loaded musket, andevery man of 'em knows that if he tries any tricks 'tis good-by."
"Well, I'm only sorry I was bowled over. You've done splendidly. Howlong have I been here?"
"Somewheres about half an hour, sir. We couldn't do much for you, nothaving no surgeon aboard; but we tied up your head as well as we could."
"Oh, I'm all right. Just a little dizzy. Help me on deck; the freshair will do me good."
He had lost a good deal of blood, and could scarcely have reached thedeck unassisted. The Englishmen gave a cheer when they saw their youngofficer--a somewhat muffled cheer, for their mouths were full of thefood prepared for the Frenchmen's breakfast. It was so long since theyhad had a square meal that they were making the most of theiropportunity, and the prisoners sat glum and hungry, watching thedisappearance of the soup intended for themselves.
"Find the cook and cast him loose," said Jack. "He can get somethingready for them. Let 'em eat, forty at a time. Where's the captain?"
"Getting over his temper for'ard, sir."
Jack found the captain, and learned from him that the vessel, named the_Glorieuse_, had been cruising off Ushant, and three days before hadcaptured an English merchantman, which she had sent to Brest with aprize crew. The _Glorieuse_ was bound for Boulogne, and the _Fury_ hadbeen taken for a French despatch-boat bringing orders.
By midday the _Glorieuse_ came within sight of Selsey Bill, and beatingup against a westerly breeze made a slow passage to Spithead. It wasalmost dark before she ran into Portsmouth Harbor. Her signals hadalready informed the port officers that she was a prize, and she hadhardly hove-to when a boat came alongside to make inquiries.
"I'll have to go and see the admiral and report," said Jack to Babbage."Probably I shall not be back to-night. We'll see about the prisonersin the morning."
Jack Hardy: A Story of English Smugglers in the Days of Napoleon Page 12