Chapter 15

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_ CHAPTER FIFTEEN.

I was ushered with due form into the midshipmen's berth of the Daring. A large party were assembled, discussing an ample supply of food prepared for breakfast. They seemed a very free and easy set, and it was no fault of theirs if I did not find myself at home; but I was far too anxious to do justice to the good things placed before me, nor could I keep my mind from dwelling on the sad work I believed then going forward. I soon found that the object of the captain's visit to the shore was no secret. He had been boasting the evening before of what he had done in the duelling way, and congratulating himself on at length being able to reap the revenge he had so long sought, swearing at the time that he would shoot Captain Ceaton through the head, as he would any man who dared to impugn his veracity. Was, then, his remark, that he would only wing him, the result of some momentary compunction of conscience, to be banished by the counsels of that Mephistopheles-like major? I feared so. The midshipmen did not know that Captain Ceaton was my relative, and though some seemed to feel for my anxiety, others only laughed, and told me that I might as well begin to pipe my eye, for by that time my cousin would have a hole drilled through him, I might depend on it. They seemed, indeed, to be proud of their captain's performances in that way, and anxious to imitate him. Two or three of them boasted of having fought duels with midshipmen of other ships, though, as they used not over sharp cutlasses, there had been no fatal results. I was very glad that I did not belong to the ship, for a more boastful, quarrelsome set of fellows I never fell among. The sort of things Mr Johnson said in joke, they uttered in grave earnest, and they were excessively angry if they were not believed. However, I managed to keep my temper, and at last to eat some breakfast, in spite of my anxiety about my cousin. As soon as I could, I returned on deck, where I was joined by my former acquaintance. He begged that I would not mind what had been said.

"You see," he observed, "the captain sets the fashion and the greater number follow it. If we had had a different captain, these same fellows would have had very different ideas."

I have often since then had occasion to make the remark, that, as a rule, drinking, swearing, profligate captains turn out officers of the same character. A brave, virtuous, and good commander cannot make all those under him like himself; but his example will induce imitation among some, and act as a curb to vice among others. Great, indeed, is the responsibility of a captain of a man-of-war; indeed, of any ship where there are officers and men looking up to him. We had not been on deck long when the admiral came off in his barge from the shore, and three or four captains arrived in their gigs, as well as some military men in shore boats. The first-lieutenant made Captain Staghorn's apologies, saying that affairs of importance had taken him early on shore, but that he would be off immediately.

The admiral walked up and down the deck rather impatiently, and looked annoyed, as if Captain Staghorn was not treating him with proper respect. He was also very hungry probably, and he kept continually pulling out his watch and replacing it hurriedly in his fob. The captains and other officers, aware, probably, of Captain Staghorn's eccentricities, were less annoyed; but even they at times gave signs of impatience. At length the signal midshipman announced that the captain's gig was coming off down the harbour. My heart beat quick. I never felt so anxious. Some midshipmen were in the main chains. I joined them, eager to ascertain if my cousin's boat was also coming down the harbour. I borrowed a glass. After a time I thought that I could distinguish my cousin's boat coming down. Had he escaped; or had the duel been prevented? I made out two officers seated in the stern, but the boat passed at a distance from the Daring, and I was uncertain who they were. I had been so eagerly watching the Pearl's gig, that I had not observed the Daring's, which now approached. A murmur ran through the ship--there was something solemn in the sound. I looked down with an indefinite feeling of dread. Still, I expected to see Captain Staghorn sitting upright, with his disagreeable companion by his side. The major was there, but a human form lay in the stern-sheets, with a boat's flag thrown over the face, to keep off the buzzing flies which were clustering above it. The murmur increased into unmistakable accents; the captain was dead--shot through the heart. I hurried to the gangway, round which the admiral and officers and men were assembling. The captain had returned at the hour he promised; but how differently! The flag fell from his face as the corpse was being lifted on deck. The eyes were open and staring horribly; the teeth were clenched, and the mouth wore that same bad, disagreeable expression it had worn two short hours before, when, full of life and strength, and confiding in the firmness of his nerve and his correct eye, he had stepped carelessly down the companion-ladder, determined grievously to wound or to take the life of a fellow-creature. The doctor went through the form of examining him to ascertain that he was dead. He lifted up a hand; it fell heavily on the deck.

"There's no doubt about it," observed the major, coolly. "You never saw a man alive with a hole drilled through him like that;" and he scientifically pointed out the course the bullet had taken.

The admiral and other officers collected round, and he continued, "I never saw anything more unexpected. He walked to the ground with the air of a man going to a ball, laughing and joking the whole way. Not a muscle shook as he took the pistol and placed himself in position directly I had measured off the ground. I must say that Commander Ceaton behaved with courage and as a gentleman; but it was evident that neither he nor his second had the slightest notion of how to conduct affairs of the sort. Commander Ceaton placed himself with his full front facing his antagonist; and when I remonstrated with his second, as he was not thus giving himself a fair chance, he said that his captain chose to stand in that way, and that he would not change his position. I then returned to my principal. I naturally asked where he intended to hit his opponent. 'In the head,' he replied; 'his very look annoys me.' I retired to give the signal. Which pistol went off first I do not know; but instead of seeing Commander Ceaton drop, as I expected, I saw my principal leap into the air and fall flat to the ground; while Commander Ceaton stood unmoved. I never saw a man so cut up about a thing. I should have supposed that he had killed a friend, instead of a deadly enemy. We had positively to send the doctor to him to prevent his fainting. And poor Staghorn here, he never expected such an ending."

"But never was one more richly deserved," muttered the admiral, turning away with a look of thorough disgust at the major's cold-blooded indifference to his friend's awful death.

However, the admiral and other officers retired into the cabin to discuss the breakfast prepared for them, though their host was not present, with what appetite I cannot say. As I could not get an answer to the note I had brought, I returned to the Doris to report what had occurred.

"He has met his deserts; and yet how awful," said Captain Collyer half aloud, as I told him of Captain Staghorn's death.

All in our berth were eager to hear what I had to tell them about the duel, and I could not help observing how different the remarks of my messmates were from those which had been uttered in the Daring's berth. Hearty satisfaction was also expressed that my cousin had escaped. I was eager to go on board the Pearl to congratulate him and to take him back Bertha's package, as I now knew why he had given it to me. I could not, however, go till the evening, when Mr Bryan gave me leave to take the dinghy. I sent down my name, and was told to go into the cabin. I found Captain Ceaton seated at a table, with a book before him. He lifted up his head from his hand, on which it had been resting, when I entered. I had never seen so great a change in any person in so short a time. His countenance was pale and haggard, his eyes sunk, and his whole look would have made me suppose that he had undergone a year of the most severe mental suffering, or some painful illness of still longer duration. I was going to congratulate him on having come off the victor, but I could not bring out the words I had intended to use. I merely murmured out, "I am so very glad you are alive. I have brought back the package for Bertha. I know now why you gave it to me."

"Keep it still, Marmaduke," he answered gloomily. "I feel that I shall soon be summoned hence. God's wrath rests on the willing homicide, and I have sent that man without an evil deed repented of into the presence of his Maker. I was too eager to fire. Almost before the word was given I had lifted my hand to do the accursed deed. I would far, far rather have been shot myself. Let my misery be a warning to you. Never on any account lift your hand against the life of a fellow-creature, unless you are fighting for your country or attacked by assassins. The world may gloss over the deed as it will; the conscience cannot gild a crime."

He said a good deal more in the same style. I tried to comfort him as well as I could, and talked about my sister and the future.

"What, unite a spotless hand to that of one stained with the blood of a fellow-creature!" he exclaimed. "No, Marmaduke, when she knows the truth, she will shudder at the thought."

I now saw that he was altogether unnerved, and I hoped that, if his surgeon was a sensible man, he might do him more good than I could with any arguments at my command. After a time I went on deck, and finding the surgeon walking by himself, I went up to him and told him what I thought.

"Very sensible, youngster. Some soothing draught is what he wants. I'll get him to take it," he answered. "Your relative, let me tell you, had a narrow escape. Did he show you where the bullet grazed his head and took off the hair?"

"No, indeed. I did not know even that Captain Staghorn had fired," said I.

"Ay, but he did though, and he aimed at your cousin's brain," said the surgeon. "Mr Sandford tells me that, as he looked at his antagonist's evil eye, he never expected to hear the captain speak again. He's unhappy now, and shocked; very natural for a man of fine feeling; but he'll get over it, don't be afraid."

"Then the wretched man took the advice of his evil counsellor, and resolved to kill my poor cousin," I thought to myself. I was afraid, however, that the fact would be no comfort to him, but would rather aggravate his suffering when he thought that the last feeling which had animated the bosom of the man who had been so suddenly sent to his dread account was that of bitter animosity and revenge. I instinctively felt this, and so, when I returned to the cabin before leaving the ship, I refrained from touching on the subject. I did not know at the time, nor did anyone else on board, I am afraid, in a position to speak to him, where alone he could seek for comfort and consolation in his wretchedness, for wretched he was, and almost hopeless.

However, I must not longer dwell on the subject. I returned to the Doris, but I got leave on most days to visit my cousin. I did not see any great change in him for the better. An enquiry took place with regard to the duel, but the evidence in his favour was so strong, and Captain Staghorn's character was so notorious, that he was acquitted of all blame in the matter. I was truly glad to find that we and the Pearl were to sail together and cruise in company for some time, in search of some of the enemy's privateers, which had been committing havoc among our merchantmen. The day before we sailed we received a visit from old Colonel Pinchard, and we invited him down to dinner. He seemed in high feather, having got as many pupils as he could manage to instruct in French, and, moreover, as he told us, he had hopes that he had softened the heart of a Creole lady, who, though somewhat weighty herself, was outweighed by the bags of doubloons of which she was the owner, not to speak of a number of male and female slaves, who acknowledged her as their mistress. "Ah, you see, vary good, vary good," he added. "You see, moch obliged to you for take me prisoner. I drink to de sante of all de young gentlemans of de Doris." The old colonel certainly contrived to make himself very happy, and we sent him on shore singing alternately the Marseillaise hymn, some Royalist tunes, and God Save the King, while he kept occasionally shouting out "Vive Napoleon!"

"Vive l'Angleterre!"

"Vive la France!" exhibiting in his cups the real cosmopolitan feelings which inspired him--the feelings of most old soldiers of fortune. They start probably with some vague notions of seeking honour and glory, but, finding the objects at which they aim thoroughly unsatisfying, they in most cases become intensely selfish, and think only how they can make themselves most comfortable under any circumstances in which they are placed, or how they can secure the largest amount of plunder. This was the last time I saw Colonel Pinchard, but I heard that he married the Creole widow, foreswore France, and settled in Jamaica.

We were all glad to get to sea again, as we had little pleasure from being in harbour, for, though the West Indies has many charms, and at some seasons no fault can be found with the climate, yet Yellow Jack is an unpleasant customer, whose visits we were happy to avoid. I have not named any of my messmates for some time. Poor McAllister was the only one much changed; the climate certainly affected him, but he got a great deal of badgering from the officers of his own standing in the service, and especially from the mates of other ships, for having been outwitted by the Frenchman, and for losing his prize. He took his bantering ill in public, and brooded over the subject in private, till he began to believe that his courage was doubted, and that he must do some very daring deed to retrieve it. But I must do old Perigal the credit to say that he never bantered him, though Spellman did whenever he thought he could give a sly hit with impunity. I did what I could to comfort him, and the liking for me, which he had always entertained, evidently increased. I was in his watch, and, as we walked the deck together, he would talk to me by the hour of Scotland, and the estate of his ancestors, which he hoped one day to recover. Suddenly he would break off, and in a tone of deep melancholy, exclaim, "Ah, but those are dreams--all dreams--never to be realised. I am never to see bonnie Scotland again; her heathery hills, and blue, blue lochs, and my own Mary; but I've never told you of her. She's been the pole-star to me since I came to sea. She was but a young girl then, but when I had returned from my first voyage, she'd grown into the fairest maiden for many a mile round, and soon she promised to be mine, when I should get my promotion. I won't talk more of her, though; but you'll undertake, Merry, when you go home, should I lose the number of my mess, to go and find out the poor girl, and tell her all about me." And so he ran on. Of course I promised to do all he wished. Midshipmen always do promise each other all sorts of things of a similar nature, and intend to fulfil their promises faithfully, though I am not prepared to assert that they always do so.

By the bye, it is rather curious that at least half my messmates who confided their attachments to me were in love with young ladies of the name of Mary. Sometimes, I suspect, they were myths, but they did equally well to talk about. To a sailor's ear there is something very attractive in the name; certainly I have known several most charming Maries, and one especially--but I am not going to make confessions.

The Pearl sailed well, and kept easily in company with us. After getting clear of Jamaica we stood to the eastward, to run down among the French islands, where we might have a chance of falling in with some of the privateers starting on their cruise. We had before long done a good deal of mischief among them; we captured three, sunk one, burnt another, and drove two on shore. At last, one morning at daybreak, a large schooner was reported in sight, standing to the southward. Both we and the corvette made all sail in chase. There was no doubt that she was an enemy, as she spread all the canvas she could set for the purpose of escaping. The wind was light, which was to her advantage, and from the first it seemed very doubtful that we should overtake the chase. Still, while there was a chance, Captain Collyer was not the man to give it up. The wind was about abeam. The corvette was ordered to keep well to windward, to prevent the schooner from hauling up, and thus escaping; while there was no doubt that, should she attempt to escape before the wind, fast as she might sail we should come up with her. Our aim was to jam her down on the land, as we had done other vessels, when we should drive her on shore or capture her.

During the morning I was several times on the forecastle, where I found McAllister with his glass eagerly fixed on the chase.

"I am certain of it," he exclaimed. "As true as I'm a Highland gentleman, and my name is McAllister, that craft ahead of us is the Audacieuse. I know her by second sight, or, if you don't believe in it, by the cut of her canvas, even at this distance. I'm certain of it. I would give my patrimony, and more wealth than I am ever likely to possess, to come up with her. I'll make Lieutenant Preville pay dearly for the trick he played us."

Though I thought very likely that the schooner in sight was our former prize, I could not be certain. Neither were the men who had been with us, nor were the crew of the Espoir at all certain as to the vessel in sight. As Ned Bambrick observed, "She might be her, or she might not be her; but one French schooner, at the distance of seven or eight miles, looked very like another, and that's all I can say, do ye see, sir, for certain. The only way is to overhaul her, and then we shall know."

Perigal was inclined to side with McAllister, from the satisfaction which the so doing afforded him; indeed, he now appeared in far better spirits than he had done since our mishap.

At last the breeze freshened, and we rose the land, the coast of Cuba, beyond the chase. Her chance of escape was consequently much lessened, unless she could haul up along shore, or there was any harbour up which she might run for shelter. We were now clearly gaining on her, and as we drew nearer McAllister became more and more certain that she was the Audacieuse, while others also agreed with him. I, of course, hoped that he was right.

"We will make Preville cook for us. He shall be employed in dressing ragouts all day long," he exclaimed, rubbing his hands. "But I hope he won't yield without fighting. I wish it would fall calm, and I may be sent in command of the boats to take him. That would be the most satisfactory thing."

I agreed with him in the latter point, but argued that the Frenchmen had only treated us as we should have attempted to treat them under similar circumstances, so that we had no reason to complain, while they had also behaved most liberally to us when giving us a boat to reach Jamaica. My poor messmate was, however, far too excited to listen to reason.

The day wore on. Nothing would induce McAllister to leave the deck. We sent him up some cold meat and biscuit for dinner, but he would scarcely touch the food, continually keeping his eye on the chase. The day was advancing, and we were drawing in with the land. It was still uncertain whether we should catch her, as she might more easily escape us during darkness. We were about two miles from the land, against the dark outline of which her sails appeared shining brightly in the rays of the sun, just sinking into the ocean. The wind was dropping. If the land breeze came off, we might not be able to work up to her, though she might anchor, and then McAllister's wish would be gratified.

I had returned to the forecastle, where a good many of the officers were assembled, watching the chase. The sun had sunk below the horizon. The gloom came down with a rapidity unknown in northern latitudes. There was the schooner. Our eyes were on her. Suddenly she disappeared. McAllister stamped with his foot, and I thought would have dashed his glass on the deck, when he could no longer discover her. So unexpectedly had the chase vanished that some began to pronounce her the Flying Dutchman, or a phantom craft of that description. The master, however, very soon appeared, and announced the fact that inside of us was a strongly-fortified harbour, and that of course the cause of the chase being no longer seen was that she had run up it, and rapidly furled her sails.

We now hauled off the land, and hove-to, and Captain Ceaton coming on board, it was agreed that an attempt should be made to cut out the schooner, and any other vessels which might be in the harbour. The plan was very simple. The marines, with a party of seamen, were to land and attack the forts in the rear, while the ships' boats, manned by all the blue jackets who could be spared, were to take possession of the vessels in the harbour, if they could.

The harbour was reported as strongly fortified, and it was important, therefore, if possible, to take the enemy by surprise. The captains consequently resolved to put off the attack till another night. This did not suit poor McAllister's impatience. He was eager to commence the undertaking without delay.

The two ships now stood off to such a distance that they could not be seen from the shore, and we then hove-to. All those to be employed were busily preparing for the work in hand. It was understood that it would be far more severe than anything in which we had yet engaged. Captain Ceaton begged leave to lead the expedition, and, Mr Bryan being ill, Mr Fitzgerald was to be second in command. The land forces were led by Lieutenant Fig of the marines. Though his name was short, he was not; and he was, moreover, a very gallant fellow. The second lieutenant of the corvette had charge of the boats for landing the soldiers. In such exploits it is seldom that the senior captain himself commands; indeed, they are generally confided to the lieutenants who have their commissions to win. McAllister, to his great satisfaction, got command of one boat, with Grey as his companion; and Mr Johnson, whom I accompanied, took charge of another. We were to have three boats from the frigate, and two from the corvette, the rest being employed in landing the soldiers. My cousin was unwell, and in the evening his surgeon sent on board to say that he was utterly unfit to accompany the proposed expedition, the command of which was therefore claimed by Mr Fitzgerald.

"If it was daylight, his phiz would go far to secure us the victory," observed Perigal, who did not hold our eccentric second lieutenant in high estimation. "However, he can shriek, and that is something."

As soon as it was dark, we once more stood towards the land, but the night wind came off, and we worked up at a slow rate, which sorely tried our patience. The hours of darkness passed by; still, we had night enough left to do the work. The ships hove-to, and the boats were piped away. My heart beat high. I longed almost as much as McAllister to regain possession of the Audacieuse, should the schooner prove to be her. There was no time to be lost, lest daylight might surprise us. We shoved off, and away we went right merrily, with muffled oars, the men bending their backs to them with a will.

There was supposed to be a little cove outside the chief harbour, and here the soldiers were to land and form. A rocket sent up by our part of the expedition, as soon as we were alongside the schooner or discovered by the enemy, was to be the signal for the soldiers to advance and storm the works. At some little distance from the harbour's mouth we parted from the land forces, and now still more rapidly we advanced. On a hill overlooking the harbour we could distinguish the outline of a formidable-looking fort, or rather castle; while close under its guns lay, not only the schooner, but rising up, with the tracery of their spars and rigging pencilled against the sky, appeared a large three-masted ship, either a heavy corvette or a frigate, with three or four more vessels moored head and stern of her, while the schooner lay more out, with her guns pointing down the harbour--so that, to get at her, we should have to pass under the fire of all the rest, while the guns from the fort above could plunge their fire right down upon us.

The tide was running strong out of the harbour, and the grey streaks of dawn were already appearing in the east. These circumstances might be to our advantage, if we were once in possession of the schooner, but were at present very much against us. What other officers might have done in a similar case I am not prepared to say; but Paddy Fitzgerald was not the man to turn his back on an enemy till he had crossed blades with him. So on we pulled, rather slowly though, against the current. I hoped that the enemy had not discovered us, for it seemed as if no watch even was kept on board the vessels, and that all their crews were wrapped in sleep.

"Don't be too sure of that," whispered Mr Johnson. "They are not like heavy-sterned Dutchmen or Russians; these Frenchmen always sleep with one eye open."

Whether he was right or not I do not know, but just as the boats, all keeping close together in beautiful order, had got abreast of the lowest vessel, our eccentric leader, either by accident or on purpose, for the sake of giving the enemy a better chance of knocking us to pieces, sent up the rocket right over their heads. The first whiz must have startled the sleeping watch, and in a few seconds drums were heard beating to quarters, and officers bawling and shouting, and lights gleaming about in all directions. The crew of the schooner, too, gave evidence that they were on the alert, for several shots came flying down the harbour over our heads. They had not got the range, but they would soon. Mr Fitzgerald's voice was heard shouting--

"We've awoke them up. Erin go bragh! Hurra, lads! push on!"

A deep voice was heard joining the shout, "For the schooner! The schooner's our aim!" It was that of McAllister.

On shore, too, and in the fort, there was a great commotion; drums there also were beating, and officers calling the garrison to the ramparts, while bright flashes and the rattle of musketry showed that those of the land expedition were well performing their part of the undertaking.

We dashed on as fast as we could urge the boats against the current, right under the broadsides of the corvette and other vessels, which began pouring in on us a terrific fire of great guns and small-arms, which soon made fearful havoc among our crews. Still we pulled on. Three men in the boatswain's boat had been struck, one of whom was killed, when a shower of grape-shot came plunging down directly into her, killing another man, and tearing right through her sides. She filled rapidly. A cry arose from our poor fellows, as they found themselves sinking. We were close to another boat. Mr Johnson, seizing one of the wounded men, and telling me to follow him, and the coxswain grasping the other, we all leaped into her. We found she was McAllister's. Two men in her were killed, and poor Grey lay in the stern-sheets badly hurt. McAllister was all excitement, utterly regardless of the shot like hail flying round him, and urging the men to pull towards the schooner. We had nearly reached her, when Mr Fitzgerald, who had hitherto been cheering on the men, fell back wounded, giving the order, as he did so, to retreat. It was too evident that success was no longer possible; one quarter of the party were either killed or wounded, and many more must be lost before we could ever gain the deck of the schooner. McAllister thought differently; the object for which he had so long been wishing seemed within his grasp. He sprang forward, and in the grey light of morning I could see his figure as he stood up, and waving his hand, shouted--

"My name is McAllister, of ancient lineage, and the rightful owner of a broad estate in the Highlands, and it shall never be said that I turned my back to the foe. On, lads, and the Audacieuse will be ours!"

Scarcely had he uttered the words, when a round-shot struck him on the breast and knocked him overboard, before anyone could grasp him. Instantly Mr Johnson sprang up, and shouted--

"My name is not McAllister, and I haven't an acre of land in Scotland or elsewhere, and so give way, my lads, with the starboard oars, and back with the larboard ones, and let us get out of this as fast as we can, or not one of us will have a whole skin to cover his bones."

The men obeyed. I was very glad they did, for I had had quite enough of the work, and getting the boat round, the current soon carried us out of the hottest part of the fire. Still the shot came whistling after us, and when I considered the terrific fire to which we had been so long exposed, I could only feel thankful at finding myself and any of my companions still in the land of the living. As it was, two of our boats were knocked to pieces and sunk, and fully half those who had formed the expedition were either killed or wounded.

My attention was now turned towards my friend Grey, who lay in the stern-sheets groaning with pain. I was stooping forward to bind my handkerchief over his arm, when a round-shot flew by, which Mr Johnson told me would have taken off my head had I been sitting upright. For his sake, and that of the wounded men, I was very anxious to return on board, but I found that we had first to go in and cover the embarkation of the soldiers, in case they had been defeated and followed, or to give them notice of our failure should they still be persevering in the attack. On getting into the little harbour, no one was found on the beach, and I was therefore despatched to direct Lieutenant Fig to retire. It was an undertaking of no little hazard, for I might be made a prisoner by the enemy, or lose my way and be unable to return to the harbour.

Toby Bluff, who had stowed himself away in one of the other boats, entreated that he might be allowed to accompany me. I was very glad to have a companion. Two people can often carry out an object in which one may fail.

Off we set, having taken the supposed bearings of the fort, as fast as we could manage to get along through the gloom. The first part of our path was through sand, with rocks sticking up here and there, over which we stumbled several times, and broke our shins, but we picked ourselves up as well as we could, and not having time to give them a rub, hurried on. We were soon among maize fields, and then some coffee or other plantations, but fortunately there were no tall trees near yet further to darken the road. The path was somewhat rough, but I believed that it was the only one leading to the fort. The firing had entirely ceased. I could not, however, tell whether this was a good or a bad sign; whether our marines had entered the fort, or had been driven back. Eager to ascertain, and to deliver my orders, we continued to push on. Suddenly, as we were passing a narrow place, with thick bushes on either side, some large hands were laid on my shoulders, and a rough negro voice said--

"Qui etes-vous, jeunes gens?"

"Amis, j'espere," I replied readily, summoning to my aid a large proportion of the French I had learned from Colonel Pinchard.

"Ou allez-vous donc?" was next asked.

This was a puzzler, for I could not remember the name of the fort, or, indeed, of a castle in French. Another big negro had caught Toby Bluff, and, of course, could elicit no information from him. They both laughed, as I fancied, at my attempts to speak French. I wanted to escape, if possible, without fighting; but when I found that we were discovered, I put my hand to my belt to draw a pistol. It was immediately grasped by my captors, and wrenched out of my hand, exploding at the moment, though fortunately without injuring me. The negro was lightly clad, and possessed of three times my strength, so that I in vain struggled to free myself from him. Toby also was completely overpowered, and they now began dragging us along up the hill.

I felt very uncomfortable. We had failed in the object of our expedition, and I thought we should either be knocked on the head by our captors, or perhaps be shot for spies by the French, while, at all events, if allowed to live, we should be kept as prisoners for months or years to come. Worked up to desperation by these ideas, I struggled violently to get free, calling to Toby to do the same. In my struggles, I fortunately gave my captor a severe kick on the shins, when he, instinctively stooping down to rub them, let go his hold. At the same moment, on my telling Toby what I had done, he imitated my example, and also getting free, off we set at full speed, pursued by the negroes. Where we were going I could not tell, except that we were not running towards the shore. The negroes, having stopped for a few moments to rub their shins, came along almost as fast as we did, shrieking and shouting out to us all the time to stop. The louder they shouted the faster we ran, till we were brought up with the point of a bayonet, and the challenge of:--

"Who goes there?"

"Friend--Doris!" I answered, recognising the voice of one of our marines.

The negroes, hearing an Englishman speak, bolted off through a plantation to the right, tumbling over each other, and had we been quick about it, we might have made them both prisoners. The marine told us that his party was a little farther in advance, that they had been defeated in the attempt to storm the fort, and that Lieutenant Fig was waiting for further orders. We hurried on. Daylight was making rapid strides, and as the French would soon discover the smallness of our numbers, we should have their whole force down upon us, and we should be cut to pieces or taken prisoners.

As soon as I had delivered the order to the marine officer, he gave the word, "March--double-quick," and off we set at a pretty smart run. Drums and fifes were sounding in the fort, and as we crossed a ridge, I saw from the top of it a large body of troops coming out of the gate in pursuit of us. We could not proceed faster than we were marching, on account of the wounded, who were carried by the bluejackets in the centre of the party. As it was, I perceived that many of the poor fellows, from the groans to which they gave vent, were suffering dreadfully. Still it was impossible to leave them behind, for though the French might have treated them with humanity, the negroes would probably have murdered them, had they fallen into their hands. Daylight was increasing, of course exposing us more clearly to the enemy. I never before had had to run away, and I cannot say that I liked the feeling, still there can be no doubt that in this instance discretion was the best part of valour. It would have been folly to stop and fight, as at any moment parties might appear, landed from the vessels we had attacked, and who might cut us off. The lieutenant of the Pearl, who commanded the seamen, had been killed in the attack, so that the entire command devolved on Lieutenant Fig, and, to do him justice, he behaved with great judgment.

The enemy, in strong force, were now rapidly approaching us. At length we came in sight of the boats: the wounded were sent on, while the rest of the party faced about to encounter our foes. On they came, but the steady front exhibited by the marines made them halt. Once more they advanced. We received them with a hot fire, and stood our ground, driving them back to some distance, but only for a few minutes, for as we were about to continue our retreat, again they came on, expecting by their greatly superior numbers to overwhelm us. Again and again they charged us. Several of our men had fallen, and it was too evident that they would soon cut us to pieces. Should we be once thrown into disorder, we should be destroyed before we could reach the boats. I found, too, that our ammunition was almost expended. Again the enemy came on, when, at the same moment, a loud huzza was heard in the rear, led by a voice which I recognised as that of Jonathan Johnson, and on he came at the head of some twenty bluejackets, flourishing their cutlasses like a body of Highlanders, and shouting at the top of their voices. This timely support encouraged our men, and charging at the same moment, we drove the enemy headlong before us.

I had picked up a musket, and charged with the rest, and was carried by my ardour, or from not knowing exactly what I was about, ahead of my companions. I felt excited and highly delighted. The Frenchmen, however, as they retreated, faced about every now and then, and fired. As I was cheering lustily, a shot struck me, and I fell. I thought no one had noticed me, as I heard Lieutenant Fig give the order to retreat. The enemy at the same moment halted, and encouraged by the arrival of another officer, they again came on. It seemed all up with me, but my faithful follower, Toby Bluff, had seen me fall, and, springing forward, he threw himself in front of me, shouting--

"If any on you Johnny Crapeaus dares to hurt the young measter, now he's down, I'll have the life out of you!"

Struck by Toby's bravery, the Frenchmen for a moment hung back, but they were again coming on, and would soon have overpowered him, when, on looking up, I saw Mr Johnson stooping over me. In a moment he had lifted me, as if I had been a baby, on his left arm, and, telling Toby to run, with his cutlass in his right hand, he kept the Frenchmen who pressed on him at bay.

Thus fighting and retreating we reached the boats, and one of them having brought her bow-gun to bear on the enemy, loaded with grape, kept them at a respectable distance, while the rest of us embarked. They did not, indeed, approach the shore till we were fairly off, and though they peppered us with musketry, only one or two men were slightly hurt. However, altogether our expedition had been more disastrous than any in which I had ever been engaged.

With heavy hearts we pulled on board. Mr Johnson, with the gentleness of a woman, bound up my wound. Poor Grey lifted up his head as he saw me placed by his side in the stern-sheets, and said--

"What, Merry, are you hurt too? There will be no need of shamming this time, to deceive Macquoid."

"I am afraid not," I answered faintly. "But still I hope that we may live to fight the Frenchmen another day."

"No fear of that, young gentlemen," said Mr Johnson, who had overheard us. "Keep up your spirits; young flesh and sinews soon grow together, and there are no bones broken in either of you, I hope."

We all got at length safely on board, when the wounded were without delay carried below, and placed under the surgeon's care. He repeated the boatswain's advice to Grey and me, and told us that if we followed it we should soon be well. Two or three of the poor fellows brought on board alive, died of their wounds that night. We heard that Captain Collyer and Commander Ceaton were very much cut up at the failure of the expedition, and the loss of so many officers and men. I was especially sorry for McAllister's death. Though eccentric in some of his notions, he was every inch an officer and a gentleman.

We at once made sail, I understood, from the fatal spot, but the general wish was that we might fall in with the schooner elsewhere, or return and take her.

Before many days had passed, I received a visit from my cousin. Sorrow had worked a sad change in him, and I felt grieved as I looked up at his countenance, at the bad report I should have to give of him to poor Bertha.

It was fortunate for Grey and me that we kept at sea, for the weather was tolerably cool, and our hurts rapidly healed.

The Doris had now been nearly four years in commission, so that we expected, as soon as the cruise was up, to be sent home. We had all had enough of the West Indies, and we looked forward with eager satisfaction to the time when the white cliffs of Old England should once more greet our eyes. One sorrow only broke in on our anticipations of pleasure. It was when we thought of our gallant shipmates who had been cut off, who had hoped, as we were doing, once more to be united to those they loved so dearly at home. I should have been more sorry for Perigal than for anybody else, had he been killed, but happily neither bullet nor fever seemed to hurt him, and I hoped that he might once more be united to his wife. I thought, too, of poor McAllister's Mary, and of the sad news I should have to convey to her. However, I cannot say that I indulged in these, or other mournful reflections, for any length of time. I was more thoughtful than I had been when I came to sea four years ago, but that was only at times when some occurrences made me think. Generally I spoke of myself as Merry by name and merry by nature, and was, I fear, still but a harum-scarum fellow after all.

As may be supposed, the general subject of conversation in the berth or during the night-watches, was home. Those who have never been from home, can scarcely understand the pleasure seamen experience, who have been long absent, in simply talking about returning home. There they expect to find peace, and quiet, and rest, those who love them, and can sympathise with them, and listen to their accounts of all their exploits, and dangers, and hardships. Such at that time were my feelings, and those of my friend Grey, but I am very certain that they cannot be the feelings of those who have given way to vicious habits, and whose only expectation is to enjoy their more unbridled indulgence. The thought of a pure and quiet home can afford no joy to them; they lose, I may say, one of the chief recompenses which those obtain whose duty calls them away from home, and all the loved ones there.

Still our hope was deferred. We were, however, the gainers, in one respect, by this, for we took some of the richest prizes captured on the station, so that even we midshipmen began to feel that we were persons of boundless wealth. At length our orders arrived, and the shout ran along the decks--

"Hurrah, we are homeward-bound!" _

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