The Young Deliverers of Pleasant Cove

by Elijah Kellogg

  CHAPTER IX.

  THE MISTRAL.

  As they were riding along on their way to the vessel, the boys amusedthemselves by imagining the astonishment they would create at homeby telling all they had learned in regard to affairs in France,and especially concerning silkworms, but were quite crestfallenupon finding that the captain was as familiar with the subject asthemselves, who informed them that they had been, and were then, raisedat home.

  "_At home!_" cried both the boys, in surprise. "Where?"

  "They were raised in Virginia and Georgia when the country was firstsettled. I have read about it in books in the Salem library. I read inan old newspaper that President Stiles wore at Commencement, in 1788,a gown of silk made and woven in Connecticut. Two years ago my motherhad a pair of silk stockings sent her from Northampton by a cousin ofours, who raised the worms, reeled the silk, and made the stockings."

  "I never knew all that before," said Ned.

  "Ah, my boy, you _might_ have known it," replied the captain; "for youhad better privileges than Walter. There were books in the library thattold about it; but half the time, even in school, while your eyes wereon your book, you were dreaming of going to sea, and, the moment schoolwas out, were sailing boats, climbing on vessels' rigging, helpingbend sails; and you know you would work all Saturday afternoons forFrank Hall, the rigger, hold a turn at the windlass, run of errandsto the blacksmith shop, in short, do anything if he would only letyou furl a royal when it came night, send up a royal yard, or reeverunning-rigging. Didn't Deacon Chase tell your mother that you wouldcertainly break your neck: for he saw you, only the day before, astridethe end of a royal-yard? You never found time to read about silkwormsor anything else."

  "That is true, sir. However, what I learned of the riggers all cameinto play when I got on shipboard."

  After sleeping by a camp fire in the fresh air, the boys felt soreluctant to get into their berths in the vessel, even for a night,that they lost no time in filling their beds, and placing them in thetree, where they enjoyed a most delightful night's repose.

  "I declare, Ned," said Walter, as he woke in the morning, "if we wereon wages, instead of shares, and were not eating our own grub, Ishouldn't care much though we had a few more lazy days."

  During the forenoon they were occupied in making rough coops for somehens the captain had engaged of Gabriel; but, being at leisure afterdinner, they hastened to the platform to talk over the past, lay plans,and cherish expectations for the future.

  About three o'clock in the afternoon,--which was beautiful, with avery light breeze that barely stirred the leaves on the evergreenoak,--Walter said, "How clear the sky looks! and the water in thecove--I can see the bottom from here. I can see those sea-fowl that arediving when they are on the bottom."

  "Only hear the crows," said Ned; "what a yelling! Look in these pines;they are black with them. They are having a meeting just as they do athome."

  "Then I guess the sheep are having a meeting, too. Look under the sideof that ledge of rocks. What a lot of 'em! and their heads all one way!There's one cloud, a real mare's tail" (cirrus), "creeping up in thenorth."

  "Here comes Jacques, running as hard as he can. Look at him. He'shallooing, and making signals. I can't hear a word he says; but it mustbe something about the fleet."

  The boys, occupied with the singular conduct of Jacques, had ceasedto take note of the sky, or they would have perceived that the cirruscloud had spread out, covering a great extent of sky, while below itwas another, of darker hue, and, while striving to catch Jacques'words, attributed his signals to something connected with the fleet;and so did the captain, who, having observed his motions, was hasteningto the tree in order to see if there was any man-o'-war in sight.

  But Jacques was shouting, "Mistral, mistral!" with all his might. Therewas a sharp flash, followed by a terrific peal of thunder, a roar amongthe tree-tops, and instantly the air was filled with broken limbs,leaves, both green and dry, torn from the trees, and raised from theground, mixed with clouds of gravel. A large pine near by was torn up;the platform, with everything on it, sent whirling in the air, the oakbent, groaned, and seemed ready to follow the pine. Walter caught holdof a limb forming one side of a crotch; the branch split down four orfive feet, when the limb to which he clung came in contact with anothercross limb; the tough fibres of the oak, aided by the spring of thecross limb, held on, and there he hung, blown out like a streamer. Nedcaught by a larger branch, clasping it with his legs. The captain'sspy-glass, falling into the cleft of the fork, stuck there; three ofthe chairs went over the land to sea; another lodged in the thick topof a pine; the rest went across the cove, and were blown up againstthe bank. Ned's blanket was twisted round the main-topmast rigging;Walter's sailed for parts unknown. Ned's bed, lavender and all, wentto sea; Walter's was jammed between two rocks, on the end of the highbluff.

  Hail, mixed with snow, began to fall, and everything wore the garb ofwinter. When the squall struck, the captain was half way up the tree;the rope-ladder being on the weather-side, the lashings that held thebull's eyes to the ground were parted, and the shrouds, with thecaptain clinging to them, blew out at an acute angle with the tree.

  "Ned!" shouted Walter.

  "All right, Wal, I am now," was the reply, as he succeeded in gettinghold of the limb over which that to which he clung was chafing.

  "This beautiful climate of Provence," said Ned--"see the snow!"

  "This wind is right from the Alps," said Walter. "Cuts like a knife."

  It was indeed the terrible mistral, the scourge of Provence.

  Sliding down the trunk of the tree, they found one of the lashingsdangling. Catching hold of it, aided by Jacques, who had now arrived,they pulled down the shrouds, and relieved the captain.

  There was not a hat on the head of any one save the pilot, and theirhair was plastered with snow, and faces cut by the hail.

  "Where were the blockaders when you left, Jacques?" asked the captainthe moment he could get breath.

  "Some of them were cruising, some at anchor."

  "Two frigates went by here with a cutter yesterday. Where was Nelson?"

  "Yesterday he chased a French ship, cut her off from Marseilles, andshe ran under the guns of a very heavy battery, an earth-work, half waybetween here and Marseilles; and he is watching her."

  "Can they hold on?"

  "No, except the Agamemnon. She is more under the lee. Nothing canhold against this except they are under a lee, and strongly-mooredwith anchors well bedded. They generally lie at a single anchor, andthe topsail yards swayed up, so as to be ready to get under way in amoment."

  "We will hold on a while, to let the 'fiery edge' get off the wind, andgive them a chance to get out of the way."

  In the mean time the mainsail was balance-reefed, the scope hove in,the fore topmast and main staysails loosed, ready to set, which was allthe sail the brigantine would bear, so great was the violence of thewind.

  Jacques now said to the boys, "Why didn't you come down when I wasmaking signs to you, hallooing 'mistral' enough to split my throat?"

  "We couldn't hear you."

  "Couldn't you hear the crows, and see the sheep all huddled together?"

  "We didn't know what it meant."

  "I rather think you know now."

  They lay thus for an hour, when an order was given to man thewindlass. The crew, all young, athletic men, having enjoyed a longrepose,--stimulated by the strongest motives, self-interest, pride ofseamanship, and manly emulation,--sprang like tigers to their work, and"catted" the anchor by hand.

  "There's your bed, Mr. Griffin," said Ned, as they shot by the highbluff.

  "Never mind; I've had one good night's sleep in it."

  "There's Nelson," said Jacques, as they rounded the first prominentheadland; "he means to hold on. I had a good look at him yesterday witha glass. He has sent his top hamper down; his yards are pointed to thewind, and, I've no doubt, two anchors ahead."

  "Nelson hates the Yankees," sai
d the captain. "How he would grit histeeth if he knew who we are!"

  Nelson's dislike for the Yankees was based upon very solid grounds.

  After the war of independence, the United States were prohibited byGreat Britain from all trade with her West India colonies. Before thewar that trade had been exceedingly profitable, and the Americans wereloath to relinquish it. It had been no less so to the inhabitants ofthe islands, custom-house officers, and all holding office under thecrown, since that shrewd and persistent people, fully appreciating theimportance of the principle illustrated by the old saw of "throwing asprat to catch a herring," had never shown themselves ungrateful. Witha shrewd suspicion of this, the home government sent out a fleet tolook after matters in general, and enforce prohibition.

  But the naval officers, from the admiral to his midshipmen,dearly loved dinner-parties given by the civil magistrates andwealthy merchants, and were much influenced by them. The officersof his majesty's customs--governor, generals, and presidents ofcouncil--missed many a box of spermaceti candles, and were oftenfeelingly reminded of their old friends by their empty pockets. When,therefore, a down-east brig, displaying the stars and stripes, andladen scuppers to with lumber, spermaceti candles, codfish, butter,hoops, apples, and live stock, entered the harbor of a British island,and the boarding officer saw the sharp face of some Yankee friendpeering over the rail, with an expression, "It's _me_, and no mistake,"it was certainly natural that he should greet him cordially; and whenthe captain presented a protest, setting forth that he had sprung hismast, or sprung a leak, was in distress, and wished to discharge enoughof his cargo to enable him to get at the leak, and sell enough to payhis repairs, the official could not refuse so reasonable a request.Thus it happened that a great many American vessels sprung a leak; andwhatever number of vessels went in loaded, they always came out light,and the Yankee master, with his pocket full of British gold, thensailed for Martinico to buy molasses.

  There were vessels in the States, built before the war, having Britishregisters. These were run out there, under their old registers, and noquestions asked.

  A still more audacious evasion was practised. Captains took the oath ofallegiance, hoisted British colors, and the custom-house officials gavethem British registers, although American built, owned by Americans,and with American captains and crews.

  But in 1784, when Nelson--who cared nought for dinner-parties, andwhose ruling nature was love of glory and duty--was sent out to theWest Indies, under Admiral Hughes, and found the British ports full ofthese illicit traders, he pounced upon them like a falcon upon a flockof herons. Adhering to the words of the statute, that all trade to andfrom the British West Indies and America must be in British bottoms,navigated by British captains, three fourths of the crew Britishseamen, and owned by Englishmen, inhabitants of Great Britain or hercolonies, he seized at once four American vessels under English colors,with English registers, but with American captains and crews, owned andbuilt in America. But the American captains, so far from submitting,prosecuted him in the civil court for assault and imprisonment, layingtheir damages at the enormous sum of four thousand pounds sterling,while Nelson, knowing he could not obtain a fair trial in the islands,dared not leave his ship for eight weeks, for fear of being arrestedon a civil suit; and, as he continued to seize vessels, the captains,after his return to England to avoid prosecution, served a writ on hiswife, laying the damages at twenty thousand pounds sterling.

  The admiral was disposed to wink at these proceedings, and, in reply toa representation from Nelson, said it was an affair of the custom-houseofficers, and ordered him not to interfere with their decisions.

  In this dilemma he petitioned to the king, who came to the rescue, andordered him to be defended by _his_ lawyers. The Yankees, however, werean overmatch for him, aided as they were by unprincipled officials.

  American captains would clear for some of the Dutch or French islands,then go to Trinidad, put the vessel under Spanish colors, ship a fewcreoles, to put a better face on the matter, take some live stock ondeck, and go to the British islands.

  The custom-house officers, despite the efforts of Nelson, would admitthem, under an old order from the Board of Treasury, 1763, declaringBritish ports open to Spanish vessels bringing bullion and live stock,although all the bullion they brought was a hold full of Yankee lumber.

  Our young readers will now perceive why Nelson disliked the Yankees,and how much good it would have done him to have closed his jaws uponthe "Arthur Brown."

  "Suppose we should run up the colors, captain," said Walter, "and stirthem up a little."

  "We are dead to leeward. If too much provoked, he might slip his cablesand come down on us."

  "No provocation," said Jacques, "could make him leave the vessel he iswatching; for he knows as soon as he makes sail she is away."

  It was evident the brigantine had already been the subject of closescrutiny; for, while Ned was bending the flag to the halyards, a flashwas seen from the stern of the ship, followed by the report, and a ballsank harmless into the water, a long distance to windward; for the gunsof that day were of short range, compared with those of the presenttime.

  As the flag streamed out on the wind, shot followed shot in quicksuccession, attesting the galling nature of this taunt.

  "Let her luff, Lancaster," said the captain to the seaman at the helm.

  "Luff, sir."

  "That will do; steady."

  "Steady, sir."

  "He likes the looks of us so well, Mr. Griffin, we'll give him a chanceto see more of us."

  The firing now suddenly ceased.

  "He knows by our springing our luff," said Jacques, "that he's throwingaway his powder and shot."

  "I see a boat," said the second mate; "he's going to board us."

  The captain, getting into the companion-way, where he could bracehimself, as it was impossible to stand without holding on to something,put the glass to his eye.

  "There's a man overboard," he cried.

  "God help him," said Walter; "he can't live long in this sea."

  "He's got hold of something that has been flung over,--a spar orplank,--and they are after him."

  In a few moments he could be seen with the naked eye whenever herose on the crest of a wave. They continued silently to watch him,approaching fast before the wind and sea.

  "They don't see the man," shouted the captain; "the boat's crew don'tsee him, the vapor is so thick, and he so low in the water; they arelying on their oars, and the cockswain is standing up, looking round.We must save him, or he's a dead man. Hard down the helm."

  Instantly Walter, followed by Ned and two more of the crew, one of whomwas Henry Merrithew (the strongest man in the ship's company), sprangto cut the lashings of the boat. It was no child's play to launch aboat, get clear of the vessel, and pull to windward against that windand sea; but with the exception of Ned, who made up in resolution andquickness of apprehension for lack of strength and practice, these menhad from childhood been brought up in boats, accustomed to fishingamong shoals in the edge of the surf, and pursuing sea-fowls amongbreaking rocks. Enveloped in spray, they forced the boat to windwardwith long, steady strokes, while the captain, with his eye on the man,pointed out the direction in which they were to pull, which, as theywere back to, was a most effectual aid.

  "Keep cool, Merrithew," said Walter, who pulled the after oar, as heheard the crack of a thole-pin behind him; "keep cool; if you breakthat oar or thole-pin, we are dished."

  "Here he is, close aboard," said Ned, looking over his shoulder.

  Walter, flinging his oar out of the row-lock into the scull-hole,steered the boat directly for the man, who was clinging by thejack-stay to a royal yard.

  "Ship your oar, Ned, and stand by."

  Ned caught the end of the spar as it came broadside on, when itdrifted alongside of the boat, bringing the man abreast of Merrithew,who caught him by the hair and collar of his coat. Notwithstandingthe great strength of the seaman, he could not break the de
ath-gripof the drowning man. In a moment Blaisdell drew his knife across thejack-stay, and he was taken on board.

  "A midshipman, by his dress, and dead--dead enough, too, poor boy,"said Merrithew, as he laid him in the stern-sheets.

  "There's life in him yet," said Walter. "I saw him treading water withhis feet to keep the spar from rolling over, while you were pulling up."

  "His mouth is shut," said Blaisdell, "which shows he knew how to takecare of himself in the water. If he was dead, his mouth would be partlyopen, and his tongue between his teeth."

  "There's a big sea coming; round with her before it gets along; pull,boys, pull, and don't let him die in the boat. The air is colder thanthe water, and taking him out of the water has chilled him."

  When the boat came alongside, and the apparently lifeless body wasconveyed to the cabin of the brigantine, every heart was touched.

  "Dear little fellow! He can't be more than eighteen; and what anoble face!" said the captain, while they were stripping off his wetclothing, rubbing the body, and wrapping him in blankets. "There'slife," said he after he was placed in the captain's own berth. "I canjust see that he breathes, and there's a faint fluttering of the heart."

  As the readiest and most efficacious means in their power, they putbags filled with hot salt to his feet and other parts of his body. Hischeeks were pale, flesh cold, muscles relaxed, and eyes half closed.The crew of the man-o'-war's boat, after witnessing the rescue,endeavored to return; but they could no longer perceive the ship, and,as the only course left them by which to save their own lives, pulledfor the brigantine.

  A rope was thrown to them as they came under her stern, the "gig"hoisted on board, and the brigantine kept on her course.

  "Make yourselves at home, boys," said the captain, "here's plenty toeat, and not much to do."

  "You picked up the young gentleman, sir," said the cockswain of thegig, addressing the captain.

  "Yes; he's in my berth below."

  "Will he win through it, sir?"

  "I think so; but there's just the breath of life in him."

  "God be thanked! he's a fine young gentleman, and much thought of byall the ship's company; there's not a man but would risk his life tosave him. He was very poorly when we were in Leghorn, but has beengetting quite stout latterly."

  "How did he get overboard?"

  "I don't know; the boat was hanging at the cranes, and we were sittingin her, when there was a shout, 'Man overboard!' While they werelowering us away, the boatswain sung out that it was Mr. Reed. Isuppose he slipped. The ship was rolling very heavy, and everythingcovered with sleet. We never got sight of him at all, but pulled theway we thought he must drift."

  The young man lay for three hours in the condition we have described,breathing regularly, but faintly, and manifesting no other signs ofreturning consciousness than a convulsive twitching of the eyelids. Thecaptain hung over him with the greatest anxiety, making such outwardapplication as he thought of use.

  In three hours more, to his great delight, his patient was able toswallow; but it was not till nine o'clock the next morning, twelvehours after he was taken from the water, that he could speak, or replyto questions. Ascertaining where he was, and by whom rescued, he seemedgreatly moved, and expressed the wish that he had perished rather thanbe carried to Marseilles, and become a French prisoner of war.

  "Make yourself easy, sir," replied the captain. "I will cut my righthand off before I will deliver those who have come on board my vesselin distress into the hands of their enemies. I'll put you and your meninto an English man-o'-war."

  This frank declaration proved more efficacious than all the otherremedies that had been administered. His pale cheeks flushed in amoment, the light of youth and vigor returned to his eyes, and, aftereating, he got up, and put on his uniform, which the seamen had driedfor him, and scoured the buttons. He then went on deck, and met theboat's crew, who manifested great pleasure at seeing him. He shookhands with them all, calling each man by name.

  The weather now began to moderate fast. The reefs were shaken out,yards sent up, and all sail made upon the vessel. When, at length, thehigh lands of Marseilles, and Planier Island, ten miles from the city,came into view, and it was evident the coast was clear of blockaders,the brigantine was hove to. A very strict watch was kept during thenight; and, just as the sun rose, the lookout at the mast-head sungout, "A sail to leeward!" The mate went aloft with the glass, andreported that it was an English man-o'-war.

  "She is beating back to her station," said the captain. "We'll get ourbreakfast while she is working up."

  The midshipman, somewhat surprised at the coolness of the captain,said, "You have great confidence in the sailing qualities of yourvessel, captain."

  "I have reason for it, Mr. Reed," was the reply. "Indeed, if assuredthis wind would hold, I should not fear to lie here till she camenearly within gunshot."

  After the meal was concluded, which was not at all hurried, theman-o'-war was near enough to be distinguished with the naked eye.

  "Do you recognize that frigate, Mr. Reed?"

  "Yes, sir. It is the Leda, Captain Campbell."

  "One of your blockading fleet?"

  "Yes, sir."

  The frigate, with every sail set, now came up fast.

  "I am about as near to her as is prudent," said the captain, and gaveorders to launch the gig.

  He then said, "Now, Mr. Reed, there is one of your own fleet. You areat liberty to depart with a fair wind and a fresh crew. Your captain,I believe, don't like us Yankees; but give my respects to him, and addwhatever you think proper."

  All sail was made on the brigantine, and, by the time the boat reachedthe frigate, she was nearing the harbor of Marseilles.

  Notwithstanding Nelson's prejudices (certainly not groundless), theArthur Brown had not been a week in Marseilles when a flag of trucecame in, and by it came a letter to the captain from the midshipman,enclosing a note from Nelson, thanking him for the rescue of hisofficer, and the kindness manifested to both him and his crew.