CHAPTER XXXVIII
_Philip Disobeys Orders_
"Who is this, pray?" said Captain Vincent, at this moment stepping backto the silent little group.
"The boatswain of the Randolph," replied the colonel. "He has justdied."
"Poor fellow! but there are many other brave men gone this day. Whatthink you was the complement of the frigate, colonel?"
"Over three hundred men certainly," replied the colonel (the actualnumber was three hundred and fifteen). "Most of them not already donefor were lost in the explosion, I presume?"
"Yes, assuredly; and now I owe you an apology, my dear sir. I neversaw a more gallant action in my life. The man 's gone, of course, buthe shall have full credit for it in my report; 'twas bravely done, andsuccessfully, too. We are frightfully cut up, and in no condition topursue. In fact, I will not conceal from you that some of our sparsare so severely wounded, and the starboard rigging so damaged andscorched and cut up, that I know not how we could stand a heavy blow.Twenty-five are killed, and upward of sixty wounded too, and aboutthirty missing, killed, or wounded men of the boarding party, who wereundoubtedly blown up with the frigate. Beauchamp is gone; and thatlittle fellow there," pointing to a couple of seamen bringing a smalllimp body aft, "is Montagu. Poor little youngster!"
"This has indeed been a frightful action, captain," replied thecolonel. "I knew young Seymour well. He was a man of the mostconsummate gallantry. This sacrifice is like him," he continuedsoftly, looking at Katharine and then turning away. Perhaps thecaptain understood. At any rate he stepped to her side and saidgently,--
"Mistress Katharine, this is no place for you; you must go below.Indeed, I must insist. I shall have to order you. Come--" and thenlaying his hand on her arm, he started back in surprise. "Why, you arewounded!"
"'Tis nothing, sir," said Katharine, faintly. "I welcome it; 'twas anAmerican bullet. Would it had found my heart!"
"Only a flesh-wound, colonel; no cause for alarm," said the captain,looking at it with the eye of experience. "It will be all right in aday or two. But now she must go below. I can't understand how youwere allowed to stay here, or be here. What were they thinking of?But you saw one of the hottest and most desperate battles ever foughtbetween two ships since you were here. They can fight; you were right,colonel," he went on in ungrudging admiration.
"Here, Desborough," he added, addressing the lieutenant, who just thenput his foot on the deck, "take Miss Wilton below, and ask the surgeonto attend her at his convenience; she 's gone and got herself woundedby her friends."
Lieutenant Desborough, black and grimy, streaked with smoke and powder,turned pale at the captain's words, and sprang forward anxiously andled the object of his love down the steps to her cabin. "Wounded!" hemurmured. "Oh, my love, why did no one take you to a place of safety?"
"'T is nothing," she replied, going on as if in a dream.
Desborough had his wish: his rival was gone; he had the field tohimself; but he was too manly to feel any exultation now that it wasover, and too sorry for the vacant despair he saw on her face. Hetenderly whispered to her as he led her on,--
"Believe me, dear Katharine, it is not thus I would have triumphed overMr. Seymour. He was in truth a knightly gentleman."
Overwhelming pity for her filled his heart, and he went onmagnanimously,--
"I am sorry--"
She made no answer; she did not hear. In the cabin the body of littleMontagu was lying on a table. He would never get his frigate now. Howsmall and frail and boyish looked the Honorable Giles to-day! Why didthey send children like that to war? Had he no mother?--poor lad!Moved by a sudden impulse, she stooped and kissed him, as she had donean hour before. No throb of the proud little heart answered responsiveto her caress now. Alas! she might kiss him when and as she pleased;he would not feel it, and he would not heed. Entering her own berth atlast, she closed the door and sank down upon her knees,--alone with God!
"A sail coming down fast,--the little brig, sir," reported the officerof the deck to Captain Vincent. "Shall we come about and give him abroadside?"
"No, no; we dare not handle the braces yet,--not until the gear andspars have been well overhauled."
"Shall we use the stern-chaser then, sir?"
The Yarmouth had left the scene of the explosion some distance away bythis time, but she was still within easy gun-shot. Captain Vincentearnestly examined the brig; as he looked, she came up to the wind,hove to, and dropped a boat in the water. There was a bit of sparstill floating there. The captain saw that three or four men wereclinging to it.
"No; she's on an errand of mercy. There are men in the water on thattopmast there. Let her go free," he said generously. "We 've doneenough to-day to satisfy any reasonable man."
The colonel grasped his hand warmly and thanked him. The little brigpicked up her boat, swung her mainyard, and filled away again on theport tack, in the wake of the rest of the little squadron now farahead; then, understanding the forbearance of the big ship, she fired agun to leeward and dipped her ensign in salute.
The force of the explosion had thrown Seymour, from his advantageousposition aft, far out into the water and away from the sinking ship.The contact with cold water recalled him to his senses at once; andwith the natural instinct of man for life, he struck out as well as hemight, considering his broken leg and wounded arm and weakened state.There was a piece of a mast with the top still on it floating near by.He struggled gallantly to make it,--'twas no use, he could do no more;closing his eyes, he sank down in the dark water. But help was near: ahand grasped him by his long hair and drew him up; one of his men,unwounded fortunately, had saved him. The two men presently reachedthe bit of wreck; the sailor scrambled up on it, and by a great effortdrew his captain by his side; two more men swam over desperately, andfinally joined the little group. They clung there helpless, hopeless,despairing, fascinated, watching the remains of the Randolph disappear,marking a few feeble swimmers here and there struggling, till all wasstill. Then they turned their eyes upon their late antagonist, runningaway before the wind in flames; they saw her fight them downsuccessfully; appalled, none spoke. Presently one of the seamenglanced the other way, and saw the little brig swiftly bearing downupon them.
"God be praised! Here's the brig, the Fair American," he cried. "Weshall be saved--saved!"
The brig was handled smartly; she came to the wind, backed themaintopsail, and lay gently tossing to and fro on the long swells. Theyoung captain stood on the rail, clinging to the back-stays, anxiouslywatching. The boat was dropped into the water, and with long strokesshot over to them. The men sprang aboard; rude hands gently andtenderly lifted the wounded captain in. They pulled rapidly back tothe brig; the falls were manned, and the boat was run up, the yardswung, and she filled away. Seymour was lifted down; Philip receivedhim in his arms.
"I ought to arrest you for disobedience of orders," said the captain,sternly. "Why did you pay no attention to my signals? You havejeoparded the brig. Yon ship can blow you out of the water; you arequite within range."
But they soon saw that no motion was made by the ship; and inaccordance with Seymour's orders the gun was fired and the colorsdipped,--a salute which the ship promptly returned.
"I ought to put you under arrest, Philip," again said Seymour, faintly,while he was lying in the tiny cabin, having his wounds dressed; "but Iwill not. 'T was gallantly done; but obey orders first hereafter,--'tis the first principle of action on the sea." That was rather coolcomfort for the young officer, considering that his somewhat recklessaction had just saved Seymour's life. He made brief reply, however,and then resumed his station on the deck of his little vessel, whichwas rapidly overhauling the rest of the fleet. As soon as the nightfell, the wind permitting, they were by Seymour's direction headed forthe harbor of Charleston once more. Now that his mind was free again,Seymour's thoughts turned to that woman's form of which he had onebrief glimpse ere the line-of-battle ship disappear
ed in the smoke.Could it indeed have been Katharine Wilton? Could fate play him such atrick as to awaken once more his sleeping hope? Through the long nighthe tossed in fevered unrest in his narrow berth. Again he went overthe awful scenes of that one hour of horror. The roar of the guns, thecrash of splintered timbers, the groans of the wounded men, rang in hisfretted ear. They seemed to rise before him, those gallant officersand men, the hardy, bold sailors, veterans of the sea, audaciousyoungsters with life long before them, Bentley, his old, his faithfulfriend,--lost--all lost. Was there reproach in their gaze? Was itworth while, after all? Ay, but duty; he had always done hisduty--duty always--duty-- Ah, they faded away, and Katharine lookeddown upon--it was she--love--duty--love--duty! Was that the roar ofbattle again, or only his beating heart? They found him in themorning, delirious, shouting orders, murmuring words of love, callingKate,--babbling like a child.
For Love of Country: A Story of Land and Sea in the Days of the Revolution Page 39