W.H.G. Kingston (continued 9)

Chapter Nineteen.

Visit ruins of Truxillo.—The commodore receives me and my galleon with joy.—Fearful sickness on board squadron.—The Island of Rattan.—Capsized in a squall.—Ship rights.—Beat off a privateer.—Reach Jamaica.—The Saint Domingo condemned, and cargo placed on board the rotten Leviathan.—Rejoin the Charon.—Sail with convoy.—Piratical exploits.—Sinking of Leviathan, and my hopes of prize-money lost.—Reach the Downs, and start for Falmouth.

Whenever the duties of the ship would allow me to go on shore, I repaired to the ruins of Truxillo, for I was never weary of wandering among its deserted streets and exploring its shattered edifices. Meantime the repairs of the ship went on as expeditiously as possible, and by the 16th of November we had set up our rigging, got all the wood and water we could stowaway on board, and made every other requisite preparation for encountering a winter passage to England. I had arranged to sail the next day, when at noon it was reported to me that a brig was seen standing into the bay.

“Make the signal for the people to hurry on board,” was my reply as I went on deck.

Having examined the stranger through the glass, I thought she looked suspicious, so I hoisted the private signal and waited with some little anxiety to ascertain if it was answered. The fact that we had got possession of the Saint Domingo, with all her wealth on board, would be known to the Spaniards, and if they should discover that she was separated from the rest of the fleet, they would very naturally send in quest of her. The signal was not answered. “My lads, I suspect we shall have a fight for it,” I sung out, as I gave the order to prepare for action, resolved to put the ship in as good a state of defence as circumstances would allow. The ship was armed with sixteen four-pounders, and four six-pounders, besides swivels and cohorns. I first got springs on my cables, so as to have complete command over the ship, and as I had not men sufficient to fight all the guns, I ran them all over on one side, in order to make the first broadside as formidable as possible. I hoped thus to sink or disable our antagonist, or to make her sheer off. Should she, however, venture to board, I had no fear, as I felt certain that my men would not fear to encounter twice their number. They were full of fight, and the way they went about their preparations gave me every confidence that we should succeed. The brig approached us with a great deal of caution. If we did not like her looks, she evidently did not like ours. I knew that it would be best to show I was ready for her, so as soon as she was within range of my guns I hoisted my colours and fired a shot ahead of her. The next was a moment of suspense, and I believe my people were not a little disappointed when she hoisted an English ensign and fired a gun to leeward. Having sailed close past us and hailed, she brought up at a short distance from me. She then lowered a boat, and Lieutenant Butcher, whom I had before met, came on board, and informed me that the commodore had hired the brig and sent him in charge of her to look-out for the Saint Domingo, which he had heard had been lost on the Solomadinas, the most dangerous rocks on the coast.

“A ship we spoke informed us that you had been seen to go on shore, and we hoped that though the galleon might be lost, we might save some of your lives,” he added; “however, I am heartily glad to find you all alive and the old craft afloat.”

“Not more glad than I am, that we have escaped all the dangers we have encountered,” I replied, and I told him of all the narrow escapes we had had.

He then informed me that the Charon and Lowestoffe had several times nearly been lost, and were now at Port Royal Harbour, in the Island of Rattan.

To that place I found that I was at once to proceed. I will not describe all the incidents which occurred before I got there. I must try and hurry on with my adventures, or I shall never bring them to an end.

By the 19th I got off the harbour, and, making a signal for assistance, some boats came out to help tow me in, and by six o’clock I was safely moored under the guns of the squadron. The commodore was delighted to see me. I did not flatter myself so much because of my own merits, as on account of the richly-freighted old galleon. However, I was not addicted to trouble myself as to the cause of any attention I might receive, or any compliments which might be paid me; but I always received them with a good grace, as if they were invariably due to my own especial merits. The commodore told me that he should at once send me on to Jamaica, under convoy of the Lowestoffe, and gave me directions to get ready again for sea. I had a number of visitors on board, who came to congratulate me on my escape, and to have a look at the galleon, which was much such a craft as some of the followers of Columbus might have sailed in to conquer the New World. I found the squadron in a very sickly state. No less than two-thirds of the crews were living on shore in huts and tents, suffering from sickness, and since the time they had left Omoa they had buried upwards of a hundred men, the master of the Lowestoffe being among them. Altogether I know in a very short time they lost one hundred and twenty men—while I had not lost one on board the galleon. Rattan itself was not supposed to be unhealthy, but at this time there were no inhabitants on it. When the war broke out with Spain, one of her first acts was to attack our settlements on the coast of Honduras, and totally to put a stop to our logwood trade. The merchants and traders connected with that business accordingly earnestly solicited the commodore to take possession of the Island of Rattan, which is admirably placed to guard the entrance to the Gulf of Honduras. It had belonged to the English in the late war, but by the treaty of peace made at its termination it was restored to the Spaniards, or rather abandoned, and all the works on it had been destroyed. In consequence, however, of the requisition of the merchants which I have spoken of, the commodore, on the 25th of November, 1779, again took possession of it in the name of his Britannic Majesty, and immediately set to work to put the place in as good a state of defence as circumstances would allow. A number of logwood cutters and other settlers, as well as some merchants and traders, had already arrived there. These were at once regularly drilled and taught the use of their arms. Each of the ships of the squadron also launched two of their guns, which we mounted on the works for the defence of the harbour, while they were furnished likewise with an abundant supply of ammunition and stores of all sorts. The harbour of Port Royal is, without doubt, as good a one as any in the West Indies, and so well formed is it by nature for defence, that with a small amount of art employed on it, I should think that it might be made perfectly impregnable from any attack by sea. At the time of which I speak the island was entirely uncultivated, and produced only the trees and shrubs nature had planted there; but from what I saw of the soil and from what others who knew more about agricultural affairs than I did, I had no doubt that in a few years it would become a very flourishing spot, and amply repay the planters who might settle on it. Just now it was serving as the burial-place of many poor fellows, who were carried off day after day by the malignant fever which had got among them. It was sad to go on shore to visit the sick and dying, and all the time to feel that one could be of no use to them. I had seen a good deal of that sort of thing lately, but it had not hardened my heart. At last I scarcely went on shore at all. Nothing I found so depressing to my spirits as to see the long rows of graves beneath which so many of my poor countrymen were sleeping, and still more to see them day by day increasing in number.

While I was getting ready for sea, the Charon, having taken on board the whole cargo of the Saint Joseph galleon, sailed with the purpose of proceeding at once to England, leaving the Pomona at Rattan, to bring off the sick as soon as it was deemed practicable and safe to remove them.

On the 26th of November, having taken leave of the commodore and saluted him with three hearty cheers, such as he well deserved, and having on board several passengers, some of whom were taken prisoners at Omoa, I put to sea in company with the Lowestoffe. Scarcely had I done breakfast next morning, and was congratulating myself on having a pleasant run to Jamaica, when Nol Grampus entered my cabin with the pleasing intelligence that the Saint Domingo had sprung a leak. “Allowing to her being manned by heretics, as the Spaniards would say,” I exclaimed petulantly as I hurried out, and with the carpenter endeavoured to ascertain where the injury was to be found. At the same time I set both the pumps going; but do all we could, we could not keep the leak under. At length I most unwillingly gave orders to hoist the signal of distress. As soon as it was seen on board the Lowestoffe her boats were sent to my assistance.

On inquiring among the Spanish prisoners I found from them that she had been struck by lightning in the harbour of Omoa, and had been injured in some place aft. On examining I discovered the injury to exist under the larboard counter, and having got some lead nailed on over the leak, I soon had the pleasure of seeing the water sensibly decrease. One danger over, it was not long before I had to encounter another of a still more serious nature, and I had great reason to fear that after all I had gone through I should still not succeed in carrying my prize into port. Had I been followed by the curse of some revengeful old witch I could scarcely have been compelled to encounter more difficulties and mishaps; such a witch as Shakespeare describes as sailing in a sieve, and like a rat without a tail doing something dreadful.

On the 29th the wind was favourable and light, and the big galleon was gliding swiftly over a smooth, laughing sea, when, the decks having been washed down, I was taking a turn, as was my custom before breakfast, with Martin.

“Fine weather, sir,” he remarked. “After all our mishaps there seems a fair prospect of our getting into port in safety.”

“There’s many a slip between the cup and the lip, and for my part I never again will make sure of a thing till I have got it in my hand, and then I should look very sharp that it does not jump out again,” was my answer, for I was, I own, beginning to be discontented with sublunary affairs in general.

“Oh, no fear now, I think, but what we shall get the rich old galleon safe into port at last, and some day touch the prize-money she will bring us,” remarked Martin, rubbing his hands at the thought of the wealth he was about to obtain, and the way in which he would very soon manage to get through it.

“Breakfast ready, sir,” said Tom Rockets, coming up to me and touching his cap. He was doing the duty of Jenker, my steward, who had broken his leg in one of the many gales we had encountered.

I invited Martin to breakfast with me. When we left the deck the wind was light and the sky had scarcely a cloud floating on it to dim its splendour. We had finished a plate of scraped salt beef, and had begun upon a salt herring, (what would I not have given for a fresh, juicy mutton chop!) I had just taken a cup of coffee and Martin was helping himself, holding up the coffee-pot, when I saw it and him and the breakfast-things gliding away to leeward, and felt myself following them. There was a terrific roaring sound and a loud rush of waters almost overwhelming the shouts and cries of the people on deck. Over went everything in a confused mass. I rushed out of the cabin, followed by Martin, to ascertain what had occurred, though I had no doubt about the matter. The ship had overset in one of the sudden squalls to which these seas are liable. There she lay like a log, with her sails almost in the water. She appeared to me to be going lower and lower every instant. Nothing could exceed the confusion the deck presented. The crew were rushing about and letting go any ropes they could lay hands on, in accordance with the orders of the officer of the watch to take in sail. The lady passengers were shrieking out for help as they paddled about to leeward, and the men were in vain endeavouring to afford it, shouting and striking out in the water and endeavouring to climb up towards the weather bulwarks.

“There go all our hopes of wealth,” I thought to myself as I saw the condition of the ship. Strange that that should be the first idea which came into my head. I did not think that the ship would swim many minutes longer. I looked out for the Lowestoffe. She was not far-off, and was lowering her boats, to come to our assistance. Only one chance of saving the ship remained. We must cut away the masts. I gave the necessary order. While some of the crew set to work on the rigging with their knives, I sung out for an axe. One had fallen overboard the day before. Another was not to be found.

“Can no one find an axe?” I sung out, not a little enraged. “Bear a hand, then.”

Rockets was searching in one direction, Nol Grampus in others, with several of the rest of the men, while I felt almost frantic, expecting the ship to fill and go down every instant. The officers were hurrying about for the same object. Were the ship to go down, I felt many lives might be lost, for the frigate’s boats could scarcely save all hands with the passengers. The confusion and noise was increased, it must be remembered, by the roaring of the wind and the dashing of the seas over us.

At last Grampus appeared with a couple of axes. I seized one and sprung to the mainmast. He rushed forward. I had lifted up my gleaming weapon, and was about to give the fatal stroke, when there was a sudden lull of the wind, and the stout old galleon, no longer feeling its pressure, sprang up and righted herself in an instant, sending a dozen of the crew across the deck and all the passengers spinning about in every direction. Except a little of the standing rigging cut, a few shins broken, and a complete ducking received by all the passengers, no damage had occurred. We soon got the lady passengers put to rights, and seated on the hencoops, where they had been taking their breakfast, the coffee-cups picked up, the men restored to their legs, and their cigars re-lighted, and everything in its proper place, while the boats which had been coming to our help returned to their frigate.

“All’s well that ends well,” was Martin’s observation when we again sat down to a fresh supply of coffee, red herrings, and biscuits.

Nothing else occurred till the 5th of December, when one of the Spanish prisoners was found dead in his bed in the gun-room.

On the 8th we made Jamaica, but were beating away under the south-west end of the island, till the 15th, when I carried away my fore-topsail-yard, and had to put into Bluefields Bay to repair the loss.

On the 16th we sailed again with the Lowestoffe. In the evening, as we were pretty close in with the shore, the Lowestoffe signalised that a suspicious schooner was in sight and made sail in chase. Scarcely had we sunk her courses below the horizon when another vessel appeared from under the land, standing towards us. She was also a schooner, and we were not long in making up our minds that she was an enemy’s privateer. I did not fear her though. We loaded and ran out all our guns and prepared for the encounter. I knew that my men would not yield while the galleon kept afloat, and so I did not watch the Lowestoffe’s departure with so much anxiety as I might otherwise have done. Tom Rockets and others were tightening in their waist-bands, fastening handkerchiefs round their heads, feeling the edges of their cutlasses, and making all the other usual preparations for a fight.

The stranger came on boldly towards us. I had no doubt of the character of the schooner, but as she sailed two knots to our one there was no use in attempting to try and escape her. It was not long before she got within gun-shot and exhibited her true character by running up the Spanish ensign and by firing one of her bow-chasers at us. As our guns would not carry so far as hers I let her come on considerably nearer before I returned the compliment. The privateer, thinking that they were going to make an easy victory of us, fired again, but the shot, as had the first, flew wide of us. I saw that my people were impatient to fire in return.

“Hold fast, my lads,” I cried out. “Let her come on a little nearer, and we’ll show her that she has caught a Tartar for once in a way.”

I waited for another ten minutes, but as I saw the way in which the well-armed daring little craft approached us I could not help thinking to myself, “I wonder whether this will be another slip between the cup and the lip.” I, of course, did not show what I thought. I now judged that we had got her well within range of all our guns. Again she fired, and the shot flew through our rigging.

“Now give it her, my lads,” I sung out. “Blaze away!”

The men were not slow to obey the order. Our broadside told with fearful effect. Many of our shot tore along her decks, killing and wounding a considerable number of her crew. Notwithstanding this the schooner stood after us. From the spirited way in which she came on I thought that she must be American, and, knowing the rich prize we should prove, had determined at all risks to get hold of us. She only carried six guns, but they were heavier than ours, and while her crew were amply strong to man them, mine could not fight more than half the guns we had. The contest, therefore, was much more equal than at first appeared to be the case. Still I had not much fear as to the results, especially if the privateer really was Spanish, for however bravely or furiously Spaniards come on, and however much bravado they make, I have always found that they never can withstand English pluck and determination. As soon as we had fired our first broadside we loaded again as fast as we could, while the schooner gave us the contents of her three guns from one side, and was about to keep away and run under our stern to fire the three on the other—the first having done us no little damage, wounded one of our masts, and cut a poor fellow almost in two—but just as she was on the point of firing we let fly four or five of our after guns right down upon her, and one of the shot striking the helmsman, knocked him over, and before another man could take his place the schooner had flown up again into the wind. Her starboard broadside not being loaded, we were able to give her another dose before she was ready to fire, and in the meantime the report of the guns being heard on board the Lowestoffe, she was seen standing towards us under all sail.

The privateer had now had quite sufficient taste of our quality, and greatly to my vexation and to that, I believe, of everyone on board, she hauled her wind and stood away from us on a bow-line, a point of sailing on which we had no chance of overtaking her. We gave her, however, a parting salute and three cheers and many a hearty wish that she had stopped to receive the thrashing we all felt confident we should have bestowed on her.

The Lowestoffe soon came up and chased her for a few miles, having in the course of it recaptured a prize which the privateer had just before taken. Had not the captain of the Lowestoffe been apprehensive that some more of these privateering gentlemen might try to get hold of my tenderly-loved galleon, he would probably have continued the chase and captured the schooner herself, but remembering that a bird in the hand is worth two in the bush, he wisely would not allow himself to be tempted on, but returned to keep ward and watch over me.

“You said, sir, that there was many a slip between the cup and the lip,” observed Martin, as on the morning of the 18th December, 1779, we sighted the entrance to Port Royal Harbour, Jamaica, and with a fair breeze stood into it with our rich prize, followed closely by our faithful guardian the Lowestoffe.

“Yes, my boy, but we have not touched the rhino yet, and even then it may be long before the sweets reach our mouth,” was my answer. “So I have always found it to be, and so I always expect to find it. These bales of indigo which are said to be worth so much, are rather cumbersome articles to put into our pockets and walk off with. The ship has to cross the Atlantic and the cash has to pass through the hands of merchants, and brokers, and prize-agents before we touch it.”

I little thought at the time how necessary my warning was, and how well it was not to reckon too much on the riches which might so easily take to themselves wings and flee away. Still, as I have before said, I could not help believing that I should some day or other possess the portion which was my due; and over and over again I conjured up the delightful picture when I should find myself once more in America, no longer as an enemy to her sons, but as the affianced husband of Madeline Carlyon and the friend and companion of her kindred and people.

In high spirits, therefore, and with no small amount of pride in my heart, I sailed up the harbour and saluted Sir Peter Parker with thirteen guns, which compliment he returned with eleven. After this expenditure of gunpowder I hurried up to pay my respects to him, and was received with all his usual kindness and urbanity. To my astonishment, and somewhat, I own, to my disappointment, I found my own ship, the Charon, at anchor among the rest of the fleet. I thought that she had long ago sailed for England. On going on board I soon was made acquainted with the cause of her return. On her passage through the Gulf of Florida she had spoken HMS Salisbury, from which ship Captain Luttrell gained the information that many very disparaging reports reflecting on his honour were circulating in Jamaica respecting his conduct at the taking of Omoa. This made him at once resolve to return to the island, to vindicate his character. He immediately demanded a Court of Inquiry, which was held on board the Niger, when he was honourably acquitted of one and all the malicious charges alleged against him. Officers, especially in the navy, would always do well to imitate the commodore’s conduct in this particular. All men may have dirt thrown at them, but the honourable man will never allow it to remain a moment longer than can be avoided, lest it should leave a stain behind.

Captain Luttrell’s return to Jamaica had a considerable influence on my fortunes. I was in high feather at having so far escaped all the dangers of the voyage with the old Galleon, and was making every preparation to fit her yet further for encountering the passage in mid-winter across the Atlantic. During this period I had not altogether an unpleasant time of it, for the merchants and planters of Kingston were proverbially hospitable, and I had many friends among them, so that every moment I could spare from my duties on board ship was occupied in receiving the attentions and civilities they showered on me. This was all very agreeable. I made haste to enjoy the moments as they passed, for I expected to be at sea and far away in a very few days. My pleasure was, however, of shorter duration even than I anticipated. I met O’Driscoll one day, who had just come from the admiral.

“I say, Hurry, my boy,” he began; “do you know what they talk of doing with your old galleon?”

“Send her to sea at once, before her repairs are finished,” I answered. “It’s the way they too often do things.”

“Not a bit of it,” he replied. “They say that she is not fit to go to sea, so they propose transferring her cargo to the old ‘Leviathan,’ which to my certain knowledge is very much out of repair, and sending her home with it.”

“Some abominable job!” I exclaimed, stamping with rage. “It’s too bad, after all I have gone through, to deprive me of the credit I ought to have gained. I won’t believe it.”

I soon found, however, that O’Driscoll’s account was too true. A survey was held on the Saint Domingo, and she was condemned as unfit to proceed on her voyage to England. Her cargo, consisting of twelve hundred and thirty-two saroons of indigo, and a large quantity of sarsaparilla and hides, was put on board HMS Leviathan, and her captain was to have three thousand pounds freight. I protested as loudly as I could against this decision. I asserted that the Saint Domingo was far more calculated to take home so valuable and bulky a cargo than the Leviathan, or any other man-of-war, and I undertook, with twenty of my people, who had been in her already for three months, to carry her across the Atlantic in safety. All I could say was of no avail. Not only I, but many other officers said the same thing. The affair was decided against us, and I saw, with no small regret, the whole of the Saint Domingo’s cargo transferred to the rotten old Leviathan.

On the 16th of January, 1780, having given up the hull of the Saint Domingo to our agent at Jamaica, I joined the Charon, with my two followers, for the first time since my appointment to her. On the next day we sailed from Port Royal, in company with his Majesty’s ships Ruby, Lyon, Bristol, Leviathan, Salisbury, James, Resource, Lowestoffe, Pallas, Galatrea, Delight, and about ninety sail of merchant vessels. Except the capture of a Spanish privateer, and a vessel laden with mahogany, nothing particular occurred till the 9th of February, in latitude 29 degrees north, and longitude 72 degrees west, when the admiral and his squadron put about to return to Jamaica, leaving us and the Leviathan in charge of the convoy, to pursue our way to England.

We had hard work enough in keeping our convoy together, and in whipping up the laggards. In spite of the danger they ran of being picked up by privateers, some were continually getting out of the order of sailing. The Leviathan kept ahead, and led as well as she could, while we did the duty of huntsman, or of whipper-in. One night when it was my watch on deck, as I was keeping a bright look-out in all directions, I saw the flash of a gun on our lee quarter, and the sound directly after reached my ears. It was, it struck me, from a petronel, or some small piece of ordnance such as merchantmen carried in those days. I reported the circumstance to Captain Luttrell, who ordered me at once to make sail in that direction. One or two other shots followed, and I could just discern the flashes of pistols, though the reports did not reach our ears. The night was very dark, but we were able to steer clear of some of the convoy, which had been near us on our lee quarter. I had carefully taken the bearings of the spot where I had seen the flashes. We were not long in getting up to it. There was a large barque under sail, steering somewhat wildly, but still keeping after the fleet. We hailed as we got close to her, but received no answer. A second time we hailed, still louder, but there was no reply. We then fired a shot across her bows, but she stood on as before. On this the captain directed me to take a boat and board her. There was not much sea, but in the wild way in which she was steering about, and in the extreme darkness, this would, I knew, be no very easy matter. However, singing out for volunteers, I soon had eight good hands to man a boat, and away we pulled towards the barque. As we got near I again hailed. As before, there was no reply. At last, watching the proper moment, I pulled in towards her, and hooked on to her mizen-chains. We soon, with lanterns in hand, scrambled on board. As I was hurrying along the deck, I stepped on some substance which very nearly made me measure my length on it. I called to Tom Rockets, who was of course near me, to throw the light of his lantern on the spot. It was blood. There could be no doubt of it. The deck in several places was moist with the same, but yet no one had we seen. Aft there was no one. The helm was lashed amidships, and the ship was left to steer herself. Ordering a hand to the wheel, to keep her close after the Charon, I again traversed the deck to examine her forward. On my way I stumbled over two human forms. The light of the lantern, which fell on their countenances, showed me that they were not Englishmen—dark-bearded, swarthy fellows, dressed in true buccaneer style. I had little doubt that they were pirates, or belonging to the crew of one of the Spanish privateers, most of which deserved no better character. Farther on were two or three English seamen, so they seemed. Here evidently had been a desperate fight, but it was too clear which party had gained the victory. Two other bodies were found locked in a deadly embrace—an English seaman and a Spaniard. One had been endeavouring to force the other overboard. The Spaniard’s knife was sticking in the Englishman’s throat, but the latter had not died till he had strangled his antagonist. A few moments sufficed to reveal this tale of horror. I looked out to endeavour to discern the pirate. I fancied that I could make out the sails of a fore and aft vessel to leeward, but when I looked again I could see nothing of them. I had now to examine the vessel below. I went aft into the cabin. There also had been a desperate struggle. The master apparently had been surprised in his cot, and lay half out of it, stabbed to the heart. Several passengers had sprung out of their berths, it seemed, and been shot or stabbed before they could reach the door of the cabin. The mate, I judged, and two other men, lay in a pool of blood just inside the door. They had retreated there, fighting for their lives. The table and chairs were upset and broken. One of the pirates had fallen, and so hurried had been the retreat of his companions that they had been unable to carry him off. He still breathed when I threw the light of the lantern on his face, but the moment he was moved he fell back and, with a deep groan, died. I marched through the whole of the vessel; not a living soul was found on board. On returning on deck, I again looked out for the pirate—not that I had much hopes of seeing her. All appeared dark to leeward, the Charon’s stern lanterns only being visible just ahead of me. As I was peering into the gloom, suddenly a bright light burst forth, as it seemed, out of the ocean. Up it rose, increasing in size, a vast mass of flame into the air. I could distinguish, with the greatest clearness, the masts and spars and canvas of a schooner, lifting upwards high above the surface of the dark sea. Then they seemed to separate into a thousand fragments, and to fall down in showers of sparks on every side. For a moment I was in doubt whether what I saw was a reality or some hallucination of the mind, such as the imagination of a sleeper conjures up, but from the exclamations I heard around me I was soon convinced that the pirate crew who had effected all the mischief we had witnessed had met with a sudden and just retribution for their crimes, and that they and their vessel had been blown up.

The next morning a midshipman and ten men were sent to relieve me, and to take charge of the barque, which proved to be a vessel bound for Bristol. Sad was the tale she would have to convey to the wives and families of her officers and crew. On the 20th a signal of distress was seen flying on board one of our convoy. A couple of boats were manned, and I pulled away to her assistance. As we got near we saw the crew waving to us, some in the rigging, and some leaning over the sides. Her boats, I concluded, had been knocked to pieces in a gale. At all events none were lowered. The people waved and shouted more vehemently than ever. They had good reason for so doing. I saw by the way that the vessel was labouring, and by her depth in the water, that she was on the point of sinking. Already she had given one or two ominous rolls. I cried out to my men to pull up alongside as fast as they could. We were soon up to her. “Leap, leap!” was the shout. I was afraid that the boats might get foul of some of the rigging, or be drawn into the vortex. Not a moment was to be lost. The merchantman’s crew saw their danger, and threw themselves headlong over the bulwarks. The deck was already almost awash with the sea. Some reached the boats unhurt, others got much bruised, and two poor fellows plunged into the water. One of them sank before we could get hold of him, and the other we had considerable difficulty in saving from the vortex made by the foundering ship.

“Shove off! shove off!” I had to cry out. “Give way—give way, my lads!”

We had barely time to get clear of the vessel before she gave a terrific roll, her stern lifted, and down she went, as if dragged by some invisible power towards the depths of the ocean. We hurried back to the Charon, without attempting to pick up anything, for the weather was coming on bad, and the boats were already as full as they could hold. I could not help remarking how little the men seemed to care for the loss of their ship. Most of them grumbled about losing their bags, but as to any thought of gratitude for their preservation, it did not seem to occur to them that there was any necessity for feeling it. Had no other ship been near, or had their vessel gone down in the night, not one of them would have been saved.

“Oh, they are a precious rough lot, are my men,” observed the master. “There’s nothing they wouldn’t do, and nothing they care for.”

I thought as he spoke that he was precious rough himself, and that it was very much owing to him, and men like him, that merchant-seamen are so often little better than barbarians—without a thought of religion, or a knowledge of a future life. Several more days passed by, and we were making good progress. I little guessed what was in store for us. Often, as I kept my midnight watch, my thoughts flew to Madeline Carlyon, and I delighted to picture to myself the happiness which I anticipated when I should one day be united to her. Of course I could not tell how or when that was to be, but I had so often and so long dwelt on the subject that I began to consider my union with her as a settled thing, that was to be a reality. Of one thing I was most certain, that she fully returned the affection I had bestowed on her. I pictured to myself how delightful it would be to bring her over to England as my wife—to introduce her to my father and mother and my relations, and to witness the admiration I was certain they would bestow on her. However, I did not intend to trouble my readers with a minute account of my own private thoughts and feelings, and yet, had I neglected to speak again of Miss Carlyon, I might have been accused of having heartlessly forgotten one for whom I had before expressed so ardent an affection. Most of my hopes of the successful termination of my love were based, it must be remembered, on the fortune which floated within the ribs of the huge Leviathan, and then my feelings may well be imagined, when, on the morning of the 24th of February, I saw a signal of distress flying on board her. I instantly communicated the circumstance to Captain Luttrell, who ordered all our boats to go to her aid. What was the matter we could not tell. Some thought a fire might have broken out among her cargo—others that she had sprung a leak. At all events it was very evident that her demand for relief was urgent. The boats were speedily lowered. Several of the merchantmen were sending off theirs also, and away we pulled towards her as fast as we could. I was the first on board. I found all the men with their bags on deck, and the officers collected with traps of all sorts. I did not see the captain and first lieutenant. The second lieutenant I knew, and spoke to him.

“We have been holding a council of war, and it has been resolved to abandon the ship, as there does not appear to be the slightest prospect of being able to keep her afloat a day or perhaps an hour longer,” he remarked with a look in which I thought that there was some little amount of shame mingled. “You see, it would not do to risk the lives of the people, or our own either, on the mere chance of keeping the old ship afloat a few days longer at most. The cargo they have put into her is more than she can carry—that is very evident.”

“Yes, indeed—that ought to have been known before?” I exclaimed, stamping with my foot vehemently on the deck. I could not for the life of me help the action. “And is this valuable cargo to be allowed to sink to the bottom of the sea without anyone straining a muscle to save it? That shall not be, and though every body else is afraid of remaining on board, I’ll undertake to stay by her and do my best to keep her afloat.”

“You’ll make your offers to your own captain, sir,” said the captain of the Leviathan, who just then appeared on deck. “If he thinks fit to accept them, he must be answerable for your life. My officers and I have come to the decision that to remain on board is certain destruction. No human power can keep the ship afloat.”

To all this I of course said nothing. I had been too long a midshipman not to know that the less a subordinate differs with his superior officer the better. I therefore merely stated that the boats I commanded were at the captain’s disposal, to convey him and his people on board the Charon, or any of the vessels in the convoy.

The captain, I thought, looked not a little sheepish, though he tried to brazen it out by as pompous a manner as he could assume. For want of sufficient courage and energy he was not only losing three thousand pounds, which he would have received on arriving in England, but allowing a number of other people to lose the hard-won wealth which might have been theirs. It was a very bitter subject to think of, I know. The captain had made up his mind to abandon the ship, and accordingly every boat alongside as well as their own was filled with the men and their bags, and the officers and their private effects. Many preferred taking passages in the merchantmen rather than be crowded up and subject to the discipline of a man-of-war. The captain of the Leviathan resolved on going on board the Charon, and when he got there it struck me that Captain Luttrell received him with an expression of scorn on his countenance which I thought he fully deserved. The men who had been in the boats declared that from what they saw of the old ship she would, with a good crew on board, be able to swim for many a day to come. I of course did not keep silence, but complained bitterly among my shipmates of the cowardice which had caused so valuable a cargo to be deserted. Finding that I could get plenty of support I resolved to ask Commodore Luttrell to let me go on board and try and save the cargo. When I expressed my intention the whole ship’s company begged that they might be allowed to go with me. I told them that I would take as many as I could. The commodore, who had been hearing all the reasons given by the captain of the Leviathan for deserting her, at first tried to dissuade me from going, but when he found that I persisted, in his usual kind way he told me that I might take fifty men, and that he heartily wished me success in my enterprise. By the time I had selected my crew and got the boats in the water it was quite dark. My object was to try and keep the ship afloat during the night, and in the morning to endeavour to discover where the worst leaks were to be found. I had but two boats, so that I could only take part of my crew at a time—the boats were to return for the rest. We shoved off with the full intention of saving the old ship. I felt sure I could do it. Nol Grampus and Tom Rockets were with me, and all were men I knew I could trust. The night was somewhat dark, and there was a good deal of sea on, so that the danger we had to encounter was not small. As we drew near the abandoned ship I saw that she was tumbling about and rolling in a fearful manner. Even in daytime, when we could have watched her movements and better calculated the proper moment to pull up alongside and hook on, the risk would have been very great, and now it was positively terrific. Now the ship came down with a roaring slush into the sea, as if she was never coming up again, and then suddenly she rose and away she rolled over on the other side, lifting her keel almost out of the water. Still to go back was impossible—I could not bring myself to do it. At every risk I determined to get on board. I watched anxiously for the moment. She seemed to be rolling away from us, and I calculated that we should have time to spring on board just as she returned.

“Now, my lads, give way!” I sang out.

They did give way, poor fellows. A sea sent us closer up alongside than I expected. Over again rolled the vast lumbering hull—down—right down upon us it came. Oh, mercy! A cry of horror rose—shrieks for help. The boat was dashed to fragments and pressed under the ship’s bilge. I found myself struggling in the waves with my poor fellows around me. I made a desperate effort to reach the main-chains. Now I was driven back, and all I could see was the dark hull of the old ship rolling above me, and I seemed to be sinking down into total darkness. Then the sea lifted me in its rough embrace just as I thought my last moment had come, and carried me right up to the very spot at which I was aiming. My struggles had so much exhausted my strength that I do not think I could have grasped it, but a strong arm seized mine and lifted me up, and a voice I recognised as that of Nol Grampus exclaimed—

“All right, mate, here you are!”

Tom Rockets had just before reached the same place, and together they hauled me up out of the water. Some of the other men had climbed up by the main-chains, and others by the mizen-chains; but when we all at last got on deck and I began to muster them, I found that seven poor fellows were missing. There was no time to grieve about their loss. Our business was to try and get the crew of the other boat—the jolly-boat—on board, and to set to work to see if the ship herself could be kept afloat. Warning them of what had happened, we stood by with ropes to tell them to approach at the proper time. I waited till the ship was actually rolling over on that side, and then singing out to them they got alongside just as she was on an even keel. They were not many moments in scrambling on board. The boat’s falls were happily rove, so we hooked on and hoisted her up out of harm’s way. Not a boat belonging to the ship remained, and here was I in a sinking craft, with only twenty-two men instead of the fifty I had expected to have to stand by me—a dark night—a heavy sea—a gale brewing—not far from an enemy’s shore—not that that mattered much, by-the-bye. Still, thinking about our condition would do no good—action was what was required. My first care was to sound the well. There were nine feet of water in the hold. It was no wonder she tumbled about in the strange way she was doing. It was only surprising that she kept afloat at all. Grampus proposed returning to the Charon for more people; but as I thought very likely, when Captain Luttrell heard that so many had been lost, he would not allow any more to come, I would not let him go. Besides, I had no fancy to be left in a sinking ship, without even a boat to take my people and me off, should she, without more warning, go down. Instead of that I made my men a speech—a very short one, though—told them that if we set to work with a will we might yet, without further aid, keep the old Leviathan at the top of the water till the morning, when more hands would come to our assistance, and we might probably save some of the rich cargo on board. They at once saw the justness of my remarks, and they knew that the Charon had no other boats remaining in which the rest of those who had volunteered could come to our assistance. Accordingly, having trimmed sails as well as could be done to keep way with the convoy, I ordered the pumps to be manned, and we all set to with a will. Everyone worked as if they felt their lives depended on it; so they did, I was convinced, for had we relaxed for ten minutes the old ship might have given one plunge too much and gone down. I took my spell with the rest, or rather, I may say, that I and all the rest laboured away with scarcely an interval of rest. After two hours’ hard pumping I sent Grampus to ascertain whether we had in any way diminished the water in the hold. All we had done was to get it under about a foot. From the quantity of water we had pumped out I therefore knew that the leak or rather leaks must be very bad ones. Still, if I had had my fifty men with me, I should have been able, I was sure, unless the weather came on very bad, to keep the leaks under. However, I resolved to keep up my own spirits and those of the people with me as well as I could. Now and then I shouted out a few words of encouragement, then I sang a few snatches of some well-known song, or cut a joke or two suited to the taste of my followers. This kept them in good spirits and prevented them from thinking of the dangerous predicament in which we were placed. Hour after hour dragged its heavy footsteps along, and often I felt so weary that I thought I must throw myself down on the deck and give in. Then I would take a few minutes’ rest, sitting on a gun, and go at it again.

Everything contributed to make me persevere, and not the least, I must own, was my anger and disgust at the shameful and cowardly way in which the ship had been abandoned. Oh, how I wished for daylight! and yet daylight I knew was far-off. I kept Grampus and Rockets near me that I might send them, as might be necessary, to ascertain the state of affairs in different parts of the ship. In a small craft I might more easily have known what was going forward, but in a huge lumbering ship like the Leviathan I could not tell what might be occurring. When the condition of a ship has become desperate, sailors have very often broken into the spirit-room, and, getting drunk, have allowed her to sink with them. I had my fears that my poor fellows, when they became weary, would be guilty of some similar excess.

“Well, Grampus, how is the ship getting on?” I asked, after he had returned from one of the trips on which I had despatched him.

“The old craft is sucking in almost as much water as our fine fellows drive out of her, sir, but for all that there isn’t one of them shirking his duty,” he answered, in a cheerful voice. “If we could have a glass of grog apiece served out among us, I don’t think as how it would do us any harm.”

“I’ll see to it,” I replied. “Here, give me a spell; I’ll get some myself from the spirit-room.” Searching about I found a can, and lantern in hand I descended to the lower regions of the ship. As I groped my way there, the strange noises which assailed my ears—the creakings, the groans, the wash of the water—almost deafened me. I felt strongly inclined to turn back, for I could not help fancying that the ship was that instant about to go down. The air, too, was close and pestiferous, as if all the foul vapours had been forced up from the inward recesses of the hold. She continued pitching and rolling in a way so unusual that I could scarcely keep my legs. This was owing to the unseamanlike mode in which the cargo had been stowed: indeed, a ship of war was not calculated to carry a cargo at all, in addition to her own stores, water and ammunition.

At length I filled my can and returned with it on deck, filling it up on my way at one of the water-casks. Then I went round and served it out to the people, and never was grog more thankfully received. It did them all a great deal of good, and I am certain that on this occasion, by pouring the spirit down their own throats, they were enabled to get a great deal more of the water out of the ship. I took very sparingly of it myself, for I never was in the habit of taking much liquor of any sort, and I felt the vast importance, under present circumstances especially, that it was for me to keep my head cool. Not only on this occasion, but on all others did I feel this; indeed, though the licence of the times allowed a great deal of hard drinking on shore, I held the vice in just abhorrence. In the navy especially, more men have been ruined body and soul by drunkenness than by any other way, and many a fine fellow who would have been an ornament to his profession have I seen completely lost to it and to his country by giving way to the vice. I will say that I considered it very creditable to my fellows that, although they might at any time have found their way to the spirit-room, they never for a moment left the pumps, and only took the grog I served out to them.

Even the longest night must have an end. It was with no little satisfaction and gratitude also that I hailed the first faint streaks of light in the eastern sky. As the light increased, and I saw that we were surrounded by a number of vessels, with the Charon at no great distance, my spirits rose, and instead of wishing at once to abandon the Leviathan I bethought me that it still might be possible to get some of her cargo out of her before she went to the depths below, if go she must. Grampus agreed with me that this object might be effected. I signalled my intentions accordingly to the Charon, and very soon I had the satisfaction of seeing the commodore speaking a number of the merchantmen. They quickly replied, and he then signalled to me to set to work and get up the cargo as fast as I could. I could have wished to be supplied with more men, but, weak-handed as I was, after my faithful fellows had taken such food as could be found for breakfast, we set to work and rigged tackles and cranes to hoist up the indigo and sarsaparilla and anything on which we could lay hands. It was heavy work, for the old ship was still rolling very much, and we were all pretty well knocked up with what we had gone through in the night. The appearance of half-a-dozen boats or more, however, pulling towards us gave us fresh spirits. We sang away cheerily as we got saroon after saroon of indigo up on deck. This was, however, only part of the labour; the greatest difficulty was to lower them into the boats. The wind fortunately fell, and I was able to get up altogether during the day no less than 123 saroons of indigo, valued at sixteen thousand pounds. Why more assistance was not given me I cannot say. I do not like to dwell on the subject. In the evening the masters signalled to their boats to return, and my people and I were left alone once more on board the rotten old ship, with only the jolly-boat in which to make our escape should she go down. As the sun set the sky looked very windy, and there was considerably more sea than there had been all day. I called Grampus to my councils. He agreed with me in not at all liking the look of the weather. The people were ready to stay by me as long as I thought fit to remain on board, but they had already begun to express a wish to return to the Charon.

Taking all things into consideration I resolved to follow this course, and with a heavy heart ordered the people into the jolly-boat. I was the last man to quit the ship, and as I went down the side I certainly did not expect to see her afloat the next morning. I had no time, however, for sentimental regrets, for the sea was getting up, the sky was looking very wild and windy, and darkness was fast coming on. The boat also was much overcrowded. We, however, left the Leviathan’s side without an accident, and pulled slowly towards the Charon. She lay across the sea, and was rolling considerably when we got near her. We pulled up under her quarter. The bowman stood up, boat-hook in hand, to catch hold of the rope hove to us, when, losing his balance, he was pitched overboard. In vain his mates forward tried to catch hold of him; the next sea, probably, struck his head against the ship’s side, and he sank from our sight. While we were endeavouring to save him, indeed, the boat herself very nearly capsized, when probably all or most of us in her would have lost our lives. Happily, however, as it was, we managed to scramble on board, and the jolly-boat was hoisted up safe.

The commodore, as did my brother-officers, complimented me very much on what I had done, but as I had been left alone, I thought very unfairly, in my glory, I cannot say that I valued their compliments at a very high rate. I knew that I had done my duty at all events, and that was enough for me. Captain Luttrell, however, of his own accord agreed to remain by the Leviathan till the morning, in the hopes of being able to get more of her cargo out of her. Out of spirits at the loss of so many poor fellows, and after all at having done so little, I entered the gun-room. Supper was placed before me; I could scarcely touch it. Getting rid of my wet clothes, I threw myself at last into my berth, and scarcely had my head touched my pillow than I was fast asleep. Still the thought of the Leviathan haunted me, and I continued dreaming of the scenes I had gone through during the time I had been on board her. At last I awoke, and, slipping on my clothes, found my way on deck. There she lay—a dark, misty-looking object—rolling away even more violently than before, so it seemed to me. Still she was afloat, and while she remained above water I still had hopes of saving more of her cargo. As I gazed at her a strange sensation came over me. I know that I began to talk loudly and to wave my hand, and to play all sorts of antics. How long I was doing this I do not know, when one of my brother-officers put his hand on my shoulder and said, “You have had hard work, Hurry; bed is the best place for you.” I let him lead me below without a word of remonstrance. It struck eight bells in the morning watch when I once more awoke. I hurried on deck; the sky was dark and lowering—the leaden seas tumbling about with snow-white crests, from which the foam flew away to leeward, blown by a strong gale, which seemed every moment increasing. We were still close to the Leviathan. I kept gazing at her with a sort of stupid stare I dare say it looked like.

“It will not do, Hurry,” said Captain Luttrell. “We must give it up. I cannot risk your life or those of any of our people on board the old ship again.”

I was scarcely inclined to acquiesce in his remark. I wanted to make another effort to save the ship, and regretted that I had not remained on board all night. Just then she made two or three rolls heavier than usual—a sea appeared suddenly to lift up her stern—she made a plunge forward. I watched, expecting her to rise again—but no. It was her last plunge. Like the huge monster from which she took her name, she dived down beneath the waves; the waters washed over her decks; gradually her masts sank till the pennant alone was to be seen streaming upwards for an instant, till that also was drawn down to the depths of the ocean. I could not help uttering a groan of grief, not for the wealth which I thus saw engulfed beneath the waves, but for the destruction of all the hopes I had been so fondly cherishing.

The signal was now made for the convoy to continue on their course. The bad weather which had been brewing now coming on, ship after ship parted company from us, and at length, after a passage of six weeks, we reached the Downs on the 21st of March without a single one of the convoy with us. I had been absent from home just five years and a half. I had left it a boy—if not in age, in habits and feelings; I had come back an officer—bearing his Majesty’s commission as lieutenant, with ideas expanded and feelings wonderfully changed. Without any difficulty, the moment I applied for leave Captain Luttrell granted it, and, taking Tom Rockets with me, I set off immediately for London on my way to Falmouth.

Chapter Twenty.

Adventures on the road.—Welcomed at home.—Confess my love for the little Rebel.—Tom’s grief for his mother’s death.—Hear of Captain Cook’s death.—Visit to London.—The Gordon riots.—Encounter with the mob.—Save an old gentleman in his carriage.—Give him my name.—Wonder who he can be.—Join the Charon, Captain Thomas Symonds.—Sail for West Indies.

Seldom, I suspect, have two rough-looking subjects made their appearance at an inn in the great City of London than Tom Rockets and I must have seemed when we arrived there by the Deal heavy coach on the evening of the 22nd of March, 1780. Our faces were of the colour of dark copper, and our beards were as rough and thick as holly bushes, while Tom sported a pig-tail and love-locks, which he flattered himself would prove the admiration of all the belles in his native village. They, at all events, drew forth not a few remarks from the little errand-boys in the streets of London, as we heard such remarks as, “There go two sea monsters!” “Where can those niggers have come from?” “Look there, at that sailor man with a bit of a cable fastened on to his pole!” More than once Tom turned to try and catch hold one of the little jackanapes, but he was off so fast down some lane or other that even Tom could not overtake him. I advised him to give up the attempt, and to take their impertinence coolly. I kept Tom by me wherever I went, for I felt pretty certain that, should I once lose sight of him, he might never find his way back to me.

I cannot stop to describe all the sights we saw, and the places we visited in the mighty metropolis. The town was talking a great deal of a duel which had taken place the very morning of our arrival in Hyde Park between Lord Shelbourne and Colonel Fullerton. The quarrel was about some reflection which the latter gentleman had cast upon his lordship. On the second shot the colonel hit Lord Shelbourne, who fell to the ground, but the wound was not considered dangerous. I bethought me of the duel I had fought when I was a boy, and that these two great people were very little wiser than I was then.

As soon as we could get places in the old coach we started for Falmouth, intending to visit the remainder of the sights on our way back to the ship. Away we rumbled, one fine morning, on board the big coach, as Tom called it, with a guard behind well armed with a huge blunderbuss and a brace of horse pistols. We stopped to change horses at an inn about thirty miles from London. A long line of horses, with packs on their backs, were collected in front of the stables to be watered. Twenty men or so were lounging about, apparently belonging to them. Presently there was a cry of, “The Custom-house officers! the Custom-house officers!” The men ran up from all directions, unloosed the halters, leaped on the backs of some saddle-horses standing ready, and the whole party began to move along the road. They had not gone many yards when another party of horsemen were seen galloping up from the direction in which they were going. The smugglers—for such the guard told us they were—turned round and dashed by us, but they were again met by another party of Custom-house officers. Swords were drawn, pistols were fired, the bullets came flying about the coach, greatly to the alarm of some of the passengers, who cried out and begged the combatants to desist. Our horses kicked and plunged, and nearly upset the coach. Tom and I could not help wishing to join the skirmish, and had jumped off for the purpose, though I had scarcely made up my mind with which party to side, when some of the smugglers threw down their arms and cried peccavi, while the rest tried to escape across the country over the hedges and ditches. Some were caught, but several effected their escape. I was well satisfied, when I had time to reflect on the matter, that I had not had time to mix in the affray. Altogether, thirty horses were captured, as were several of the smugglers, some of whom were wounded, as were five or six of the horses. We were, when passing through Devonshire, attacked by a party of highwaymen, but they, finding several armed men on the top of the coach who did not look as if we would stand any nonsense, thought it was wiser not to make any further attempt at robbing us. These trifling circumstances were the only events which occurred to us worthy of notice till we reached Falmouth. Tom accompanied me to my father’s house, for I wanted to show him to them all, and also to ascertain whether his mother was living before I let him go home. We had been so long without hearing that I could not tell what might have occurred during our absence; my knees positively trembled as I approached the dear old red-brick house, and I felt as if I could scarcely walk up the flight of stone steps in front of it. The door was open. A little child was playing on the steps, and when he saw us he ran into the house, crying out—

“Oh, Grannie, Grannie! dear me, dear me! there are two big ugly blackamoors a-coming!”

Tom made a face, and looked at himself as if he did not much like the compliment, though he might have felt he deserved it. I should have caught up the little fellow and kissed him heartily, for I guessed that he must be one of my dear sister Mary’s children, and the first kindred thing I had seen for many a long year. The cry brought out a neat, trim old lady, in a mob cap. She gave me an inquiring glance through her spectacles, and then, hurrying forward, caught me in her arms and kissed me again and again on both cheeks in spite of my huge beard and whiskers.

“My boy, my boy! you’ve came back at last to your old father and mother, bless Heaven far it?” she exclaimed, holding me at arms’ length to examine my features, and then drawing me to her again. Tom pulled off his hat, and scraped his feet, and hitched up his trousers, and looked as if he expected to receive a similar welcome. Poor fellow! his heart yearned, I dare say, to have the arms of his own old mother round his neck. My mother looked at him to inquire who he was, and when I told her, an expression of sorrow crossed over her features, and I too truly guessed that she had some sad tidings for him. She, however, summoned a maid-servant, to whom she whispered a few words, and then told her to take him into the kitchen and make him comfortable. My father was out, but while I was sitting in the parlour I heard him come in. My mother went out to tell him that I had arrived, and he came hurrying in with steps far more tottering than was formerly his wont. He wrung my hand with both of his for more than a minute. From the tremulous motion of his fingers, and the tone of his voice and his general appearance, with sorrow I observed that he was much broken and aged. Still his playful humour had not deserted him, and he soon began to amuse himself by cutting jokes on my swarthy features and unshorn visage. Mary’s little boy, Jack, in a very short time, became perfectly reconciled to my looks, and came and sat on my knee and let me dance him and ride him, and listened eagerly to the songs I sang him and the stories I told. Though I had not had a child in my hands for I don’t know how many years, it all came naturally, and the little chap and I became great friends. Only my sister Jane, the one just above me in age, was at home. All my brothers were scattered about, some in England, others in different parts of the world seeking their fortunes. I was in a great hurry to talk to Jane about Madeline. I knew that she would sympathise with me. I had not written home a word about her, for I knew that it would never do to say that I had fallen in love with the daughter of a rebel, as my feelings and motives and reasons would not fail to be misunderstood. I thought that I would first interest Jane, and then that we could win over my mother to listen to what we had to say, and then that my father would easily be brought round. Of course I knew that two important events must occur before anything I could say or do would be of any use. The abominable war between England and the United States must cease, and I must become possessed of a competence to support a wife as I felt Madeline ought to be supported.

I had not been long in the house before the news of my arrival had spread among our friends and neighbours. Many came in to see the long-absent sailor, as the ladies called me, and some to inquire about their relatives, my old shipmates and comrades. Of too many, unhappily, I could give but a bad account. Some had died of fever, others had been killed fighting with the enemy, and many, knocked up by hard work and disease, would, I thought, never return, or, if they found their way home, it would be but to die. I tried, however, to make the best of all the accounts I had to give, but I strained my conscience not a little a times to do so. This was a moral cowardice, I own. I could not stand the tears and sorrowful faces of friends when I would have wished to have had smiles and laughter. Still there can be no doubt that the truth should be spoken on all occasions, and I should, at every cost, have had it out at once. After all, the worst was to have to tell poor Tom that his mother was dead. For the life of me I could not do it, so I got Jane to go and break the sad news to him. I knew that the good girl would do it as gently as it could be done. She screwed up her courage, and went into the kitchen and sat down, and began to tell him how she was always talking of him, and hoping that he was a good lad, and then how ill she had been. At last Tom got up—

“Oh, Miss Jane!” said he, almost choking, “I know by your looks what you are going to tell me. Bless you for your kindness. The old lady has gone to heaven; that’s it, I know. She was a good mother to me, and I don’t care who knows, I would sooner by half have died myself. Bless you, miss! Bless you, miss!”

Then Tom sat down, and, putting his hands on the kitchen table, hid his face in them, and by the working of his brawny shoulders I knew how much he was affected. We left him to the care of our old cook, Betsy Treggle, who, we knew, could minister to his sorrow better than we could, and returned into the parlour.

“Sailors have got hearts, I see,” observed my mother.

“I should think so, mother,” said I; “the sea does not wash them away; and yet there isn’t a braver fellow ever stepped the deck of a ship than the same Tom Rockets, who seems to be almost pumping his heart out yonder.”

Then I gave them all an account of his adventure at the taking of San Fernando D’Omoa, when he handed the Spanish officer a cutlass to fight with him. In the first few days I was at home I was made more of than I ever had been before in my life. Tom stayed on with us. He had now no home to go to—no friends for whom he cared. He recovered his spirits and became as great a lion among his class as I was among mine—indeed, I suspect a far greater, as he made more than I could of all the adventures he had gone through, and was eager to tell about. The days passed by very pleasantly, but I felt a weight oppressing me, and could not rest till I had unburdened my mind to Jane about Madeline early on. At last I got her alone quietly, and told her all that had happened from beginning to end, and all my hopes and fears and wishes. She listened attentively. Her countenance changed its expression frequently as I went on. I looked at her earnestly to try and discover what she thought.

“Oh, brother,” she exclaimed at last, “I doubt not that she is a dear charming girl. I doubt not that you love her, and that she is deserving of your love, but she is the daughter of a rebel. She is living among rebels; she will not leave them; but for you to go to them, to wed with her would assuredly bring dishonour and disgrace upon your name.”

“Why, Jane, I did not expect you to speak thus,” I exclaimed. “You are hard upon me. I would not wish to go and live with rebels; but the Americans will not be rebels much longer. We are pressing them hard by land and sea, and they will soon come to terms. If they do not give in I think we shall give up, for everybody is heartily sick of the war. Nobody is gaining anything, and everybody is losing by it. Fighting the French and the Spaniards is a very different thing. Everybody feels that. It’s all natural, you know.”

“I’m sure that I shall be glad to hear that the war is over,” said Jane, with a sigh, “but surely the Americans must be very wicked people to behave as they have done to their lawful sovereign King George.”

“They say that he has been a very ill-advised King to behave as he has done to them,” I replied. “You see, dear Jane, that there are two sides to every question; but do not let us discuss that matter just now. You’ll say that, for the sake of Madeline Carlyon, I am siding too much with the Americans, but that is not the reason. I have been on the spot. I know the feelings of both sides. I have seen how things have been managed. I am sure the war can bring no honour or profit to England, and I heartily wish that it was ended one way or the other.”

“So do I, brother, believe me,” said Jane warmly; “and then, if Miss Carlyon is all you describe her, I for one will cordially welcome her as a sister if you can persuade her to come over here to visit our kith and kin.”

I jumped up and gave Jane a hearty kiss when she said this.

“Just like my own good sister,” said I at the same time, and in a moment I pictured to myself the happiness which would be mine, when perhaps in that very room I might be introducing Madeline to my family. I forgot that I was still a poor lieutenant—that the wealth I had so nearly possessed, and had fought so hard to obtain, had gone to the bottom in the old Leviathan—that I had saved but a few hundred pounds of prize-money—that England and the American States were still actively engaged in war—that the Atlantic still rolled between her and me, and that her kindred would probably exert their influence to make her give up all thoughts of one fighting on the side of their enemies. I was young, and hope was bright, and difficulties and impediments were speedily kicked away. Before another day Jane and I were talking away as if my marriage with Madeline Carlyon was a settled thing. At last we told our mother, dear old soul! She didn’t see how it could be exactly, but then that was her fault; and though she used to have some idea formerly that the Americans were red, and wore leathern cloaks and petticoats covered with beads and feathers, and painted their faces, yet, as I assured her that Miss Carlyon was quite fair, and spoke English like an English girl, she would be very glad to receive her as a daughter, and for my sake love her very much. The toughest job was to tell my father. I was half afraid how he would take the matter. He did not scold me, or say I had been acting foolishly, but merely smiled and remarked that he had heard of midshipmen falling in love before, and that he had no doubt that Miss Carlyon was a very charming young lady; but that when I brought her over as my wife he should be able to pronounce a more decided opinion on the matter. There was, however, a touch of irony in his tone which I did not altogether like. However, he used after that to listen very patiently when we were all talking about her, and, I flattered myself, began to take an interest in my project. The days flew by very rapidly. I was invited out everywhere, and became quite a lion, not only because I had been in so many engagements and storms and dangers of all sorts, and had had so many hair-breadth escapes, but more especially because I had actually seen and conversed with General Washington. The young ladies, however, looked upon me as a very insensible sort of a person, especially for a naval officer, and could not in any way make me out. Of course, neither Jane nor my mother and father said a word about Miss Carlyon, and so we let them wonder on till I believe that I completely lost my character among them. Six weeks thus passed rapidly away. The time thus spent was interesting to me, but no events occurred of sufficient importance to describe to my readers. My regular employment was to search the public papers for news from America, to see how affairs were going in that country; and though most naval officers would have been anxious for a continuance of the war, my great wish was to discover signs that there was a probability of its being brought to a conclusion.

Since I had known Captain Cook I had always taken great interest in his adventures, and just now the sad news arrived of his death on the island of Hawaii, one of a group of newly-discovered islands in the Pacific Ocean called the Sandwich Islands. Four of his marines were killed at the same time. At first the natives treated him and his people as divinities, but on some misunderstanding they furiously set upon Captain Cook, and killed him with their clubs as he was retreating to his boat. The Resolution and Discovery proceeded on their voyage under the command of Captain Clerke, but he soon after dying at sea, Mr King took command of the expedition. Captain Clerke was a very gallant fellow. I knew him well.

At last my leave was nearly up, and I had to set off to rejoin my ship, allowing myself a few days to spend in London. Jane advised me to stop at Bristol to visit our great-uncle, Sir Hurricane Tempest, but I replied that I did not think the old gentleman would care about seeing me, and I certainly should not find any pleasure in seeing him.

“You don’t know,” she answered, laughing; “he might take a fancy to you and make you his heir. He has asked me to visit him, and I think I will, some of these days.”

“I hope that you will, Jane, dear,” said I. “You are far more likely to win an old man’s heart than I am. I am as likely to become his heir as Sultan of the Turks.”

Jane still further urged the point, but I only laughed and went on to London without stopping to see him.

On arriving in London, accompanied by Tom Rockets, I went to the house of a relative of ours in Bloomsbury Square, one of the most fashionable and elegant quarters of London. He and his wife were very grand people, but they had a fancy for patronising celebrities small and great, and having by some chance heard that I had seen a good deal of service, and could talk about what I had seen, they begged I would come and see them, and make their house my home. I took them at their word, though I think they were somewhat astonished when Tom and I arrived in a coach with our traps stored inside and out of it. They looked, at all events, as if I had tumbled from the moon. However, I made myself perfectly at home, and we soon became great friends. I was on the point of leaving them when a letter reached me from Captain Luttrell, prolonging my leave, and I found that I might have remained three weeks longer at home. When they heard of it, they most kindly invited me to remain on with them. I amused myself pretty well, after I had seen all the sights of London, by wandering about and examining the outside, as it were, of the huge metropolis. One of the places at which I found myself was the suburb of Tyburn, to the north of Hyde Park. It was a considerable distance from London itself, and well it might be, for here was the place of execution of all ordinary malefactors. One day I was passing this spot when I saw four carts approaching. In each of them were three persons sitting, with their arms closely pinioned. On each side of the carts rode public officers, the sheriffs, city marshals, the ordinary of Newgate, and others. I asked a bystander where they were going and what was to be done to them, for I did not know at the time that I was near Tyburn.

“Why, of course, they are all going to be hung,” was his reply. “We are pretty well accustomed to such sights about here.”

“Are they all murderers?” I asked, thinking, perhaps, that they were a gang of pirates.

“No—oh no!” said my friend. “They are mostly guilty of robbery, though. You will hear what they have to say for themselves before they are turned off; I will learn for you, if you have a curiosity to know.”

He went away, and soon returned with a paper on which were written the names of the malefactors and their crimes. One had stolen some wearing apparel; another had robbed a gentleman of his watch on the highway; a third had purloined some silks and ribbons from a shop, and so on. None of the crimes, that I remember, were attended with violence, and most of the criminals were mere lads, from seventeen to twenty years of age, and only one or two above it. I remarked this to my companion.

“Yes,” he observed. “The older ones are too knowing to be caught.”

The poor lads seemed terribly agitated and cast down at their approaching fate, and shed abundance of tears. One after the other was led up to the fatal drop and cast off. I could not stop to see the end, but hurried away. I had seen hundreds of my fellow-creatures die, but I hoped that I might never again see any put to death as these were.

After this I went down to Chatham to see how the ship was getting on, and then returned to London. I found the city in a complete state of uproar and confusion. It was on a Friday, the 2nd of June, when Tom and I made our way towards the Houses of Parliament, for I had heard that Lord George Gordon was going with a large body of people to present a protest against the repeal of any of the penal laws against the Roman Catholics. I wanted to see the fun. There must have been twenty thousand people at least, who arrived in three different bodies before the Houses of Parliament. Here they behaved very orderly, and dispersed after being addressed by some of the magistrates; but the mob in other places broke out into all sorts of excesses, and as we went home we found them busily employed in demolishing a Romish Chapel in Duke Street, near Lincoln’s Inn Fields. They hauled out all the ornaments, and what they thought of no value they trampled under foot, but the rest they made off with. Several houses, either belonging to Romanists, or inhabited by persons supposed to be favourable to them, we saw completely gutted. The same sort of work went on for several days. At last I got so completely mixed up with one of the mobs that I could not get free of them.

“Here, you look a likely man to lead us!” exclaimed a fellow standing near me. “Where shall we go next?”

I did not answer him, but endeavoured to get away. This did not suit him.

“What does the captain say?” he exclaimed.

“To Sir George Saville’s, to Sir George Saville’s!” cried some one.

“Hurrah for Sir George Saville’s in Leicester Fields! He was the very man who brought the Romish Bill into Parliament. Down with his house, down with it!” shouted another fellow. “Lead on, captain—lead on!”

I at once saw that this was a trick that the real leader of the mob might be screened. I was determined to escape or I might be ruined. I told Tom to keep his eye on me, and to follow my movements. The mob began to move on, destroying one or two houses on their way. We at last passed the entrance to a narrow lane. Leaping aside, I darted down it. Tom followed. None of the mob missed me. I had got some way along the lane when a big, ill-favoured-looking fellow rushed out of a house with a thick stick in his hand, evidently with the intention of joining the rioters. Seeing a gentleman, and probably thinking I was a Romanist escaping from the mob, he immediately turned on me and aimed a blow at my head. I was just turning a corner, and he did not see Tom Rockets, but Tom saw him, and with a stroke of his fist felled him to the ground. Some other persons in the neighbouring houses saw the transaction, and the fellow quickly recovering there was a hue and cry made after us, the people rushing from their doors just as dogs are seen to run out from their kennels, yelping and barking when a stranger cur passes through the village.

As we were unarmed we could do nothing to defend ourselves, and had to trust to our heels for safety. Our pursuers were very likely, I knew, to tear us in pieces without asking any questions, and before we had time to explain who we were. I never ran faster in my life. How we were to escape them I could not tell. On we went: I sang out to Tom to stick by me, for if I should lose him I was afraid he might never find his way home again. We were distancing our pursuers. I made as many turns as I could, so as to cause them to lose the scent; but there were knowing fellows among them, and I conclude that they found as great an interest in the chase as a foxhunter does when following the hounds. At last I saw before me a large mob. There is safety in numbers, I thought to myself, so I called to Tom to dash in among them.

“Hurrah! hurrah! have you caught the fellow?” I sang out.

“No, he’s slipped out of his kennel, but we’ll take care that he does not burrow in it again,” replied some of the people.

I guessed that they referred to the unfortunate inmate of the mansion into which numbers of them were forcing their way, while pictures, books, and pieces of furniture were being thrown out of the windows. I pretended to be very eager to get into the house, but making my way round on the opposite side, followed by Tom, we got free; and when I looked back I saw that no one was following us. We now walked along as composedly as we could, but it was not without difficulty that we found our way into Bloomsbury Square. As we got there we saw a mob following at our heels, and we naturally thought they were after us. We had to run for it to reach my relative’s house. On came the mob. One of the finest houses in the square belonged to my Lord Mansfield. They rushed towards it, and began thundering at the door. They soon broke it open, and in they poured. In an instant the place became the scene of the most dreadful havoc and destruction. Again did I see pictures, clothes, books, furniture of the richest sorts, ruthlessly destroyed. I could scarcely have supposed that the work could have been done so rapidly. Then the most daring of the ruffians broke into the wine-cellar, and we saw them coming out with bottles and jugs and glasses, and distributing the rich liquor to the rabble outside.

What had become of my lord and his lady all this time we could not tell; we had great fears that they had fallen victims to the blind fury of the ignorant populace. I wanted to go out, but my relative would not let me. What the drunken mob might next have done I do not know, when a fresh party were seen entering the square; but they were a body of the royal guards with a magistrate at their head. He boldly approached the mob, and, halting the soldiers at no great distance from them, began to read the Riot Act. He finished it without faltering, the mob continuing as before their work of destruction. “Men,” he shouted, “I have warned you. I am going to give the order to the troops to fire if you do not desist. Once again I warn you—your blood be on your own heads—Fire!”

No sooner was the fatal command given than the soldiers levelled their muskets and let fly in among the rabble. Several fell; there were shrieks and cries and curses; but the people were too eager in their thirst for plunder to be driven off from the work they had in hand. Again the order was given to fire; but the humane magistrate ordered the troops to fire over the heads of the people. Some on this began to move off, but others continued their task of plunder and destruction. No one thought of attacking the soldiery. It showed the class of people composing the rioters—the very scum of the populace. This last fire of course did not produce any effect, and the mob began to proceed to greater extremities, and set fire both to the out-houses and stables, as also to the mansion itself, when they had possessed themselves of everything they thought of value. Only after repeated volleys from the soldiery were they driven off, and not till they had completed the work of destruction they had commenced. This did not take them long, and at last, several of their number having fallen, a panic seized them, and away they went helter-skelter in every direction out of the square. I could not resist the temptation of sallying out to see what they would next do, in spite of the warnings of my relative, who advised me to keep in the house. I laughed at the idea of there being any danger, and said that Tom and I would very soon be back again.

The troops stood their ground in readiness to march in any direction to which they might be sent. Some of the mob went off towards the east, and I went after them, hearing that they were about to attack some of the prisons, and having a fancy to see how they would proceed about the undertaking. Tom and I had gone about half a mile or more, when, coming along a street which crossed that we were in, I saw a coach driving somewhat fast. Some of the rioters saw it also, and some seizing the horses’ heads, others proceeded to open the door, crying out that the person inside was a papist escaping from justice.