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Ronald Morton, or the Fire Ships, a novel by William H. G. Kingston |
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Chapter 22. "Thisbe" In Search Of The "osterley"... |
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_ CHAPTER TWENTY TWO. "THISBE" IN SEARCH OF THE "OSTERLEY"--A CHASE--THE "OSTERLEY" OVERTAKEN--FOUND IN POSSESSION OF THE FRENCH--RETAKEN--THE PASSENGERS NOT ON BOARD--MORTON PLACED IN COMMAND OF THE "OSTERLEY"--THE UNKNOWN ISLAND--OLD DOULL ACTS AS PILOT The non-arrival of the "Osterley" at Bombay created considerable anxiety in all those who had friends on board, or who were otherwise interested in her in their feelings or purses. At length the fears for her safety became so great that Captain Calder was requested to sail in search of her. No one received with more satisfaction the announcement that the ship was to put to sea than did Ronald Morton; at all events he would be doing the only thing in which he could now take an interest. His heart had been tortured with a thousand fears as to the fate of one whom he had discovered that he ardently loved. Had nothing unusual occurred it probably would have taken him much longer to ascertain the true state of his heart: misfortune has a wonderful power of testing the feelings and revealing their condition. Neither Rawson nor Sims could make him out, they agreed. "What can have come over the poor fellow?" said the latter. "The climate does not agree with him; he should go home invalided." Glover might have suspected the true state of the case, but he kept his counsel to himself. The "Thisbe" overhauled every vessel she fell in with, and made inquiries at numerous places as she ran down the coast, but nothing was to be heard of the "Osterley." She rounded Ceylon, and stood across the Indian Ocean. Ronald Morton had kept a sharp look-out for any strange sail before, on the passage to Bombay; he kept a sharper look out now. The frigate had got about a third of the way across the Bay of Bengal, when the second lieutenant, who, much to the surprise of his subordinates, spent many of his spare moments aloft, made out a sail to the southward steering west. She was a large ship, but whether man-of-war or merchantman, friend or foe, it was impossible to say. Ronald came on deck, and all sail was made in chase; the idea seized him that the ship in sight was the one of which they were in search. "I am afraid you will be disappointed," remarked Captain Calder. "She is probably some homeward-bound Indiaman from China; this would be her track, remember." The chase did not alter her course, but all the sail she could carry was packed on her; she sailed well, but the frigate sailed better; there was a fear that she might not overtake her till nightfall. Morton walked the deck with greater impatience than he had ever before exhibited, now looking out to windward, now at the sails, now at the chase; as the frigate drew nearer the chase, the opinions were strongly in favour of her being an Indiaman. "But if she is, why should she run away?" observed Glover, who was always inclined to side with Morton. "An Indiaman she is," observed Rawson. "I hope soon we may be near enough to send a shot across her fore-foot." The chase sailed well, and though the frigate gained on her it was not at a rate to satisfy Morton's impatience. It was getting dusk as they drew near; his glass had scarcely ever been off the chase. "That must be the 'Osterley;' and yet it is strange," he exclaimed. "What can have happened to her?" The frigate at length ranged up alongside. By this time it was dark; lights were seen glimmering through her ports. Captain Calder hailed. "Wa, wa, wa," was the only answer he received. "She must be in the hands of an enemy," he said. Morton's heart sank within him. "Heave-to, or we fire!" cried the captain. In a little time the creaking of blocks was heard, and the Indiaman's courses being hauled up, she slowly came to the wind. The frigate hove-to to windward of her, a boat was lowered and manned, and Morton leaped into her, followed by Glover. "Give way, lads!" shouted the lieutenant, eagerly. She was soon alongside; her officers and their followers scrambled on board: little help was afforded them to do so; on the contrary, the expression of the countenances which looked down on them, seen by the glare of the lanterns, showed that if not backed by the guns of the frigate, they would have been received at the points of boarding-pikes and with the muzzles of pistols presented at their heads. The determined looks of the sturdy man-of-war's men made the crew of the Indiaman hold back. Directly Ronald stepped on board he glanced his eye anxiously around; he had no longer any doubt that she was the "Osterley," but with not a face that met his gaze was he acquainted. A rough piratical-looking man, in a naval uniform, stepped forward, sword in hand, and presenting the hilt with an air which none but a Frenchman could assume, said-- "Monsieur, the fortune of war places us in your power; we yield ourselves prisoners, and claim your clemency." "On what ground do you claim that? Where are the passengers and crew of this ship who sailed in her from Calcutta?" exclaimed Ronald. "The fortune of war threw them into our hands, as we have been thrown into yours," answered the captain, drawing himself up. "The courtesy for which our nation is famed has prompted their captors to treat them with courtesy." "I trust so," exclaimed Morton, with a look which the Frenchman could not fail to understand. "But tell me--what commission do you bear? Do you belong to the Imperial marine of France?" Morton asked these questions with an agitation he could scarcely conceal, for from the appearance of the captain and his crew he could not help dreading that those in whom he took so deep an interest had fallen into the power of a band of pirates; all the atrocities of which such ruffians could be guilty occurred to him. "Speak, man; tell me--what are you?" he shouted, for the man seemed to be hesitating about giving a reply. "What we are you perceive, monsieur," he answered. "We are cavaliers and Frenchmen, and are at present prisoners to an honourable enemy; as such we expect to be treated." "How you are ultimately treated depends on your conduct towards those whom you have had in your power," said Morton. "Enable us to recover them, and you need have no fear on that score." The Frenchman shrugged his shoulders, and protested that he had had nothing to do with the capture of the Indiaman; that he had been put in charge of her by others to carry her home, and, moreover, that he knew nothing of the passengers, except that he had been assured that they were in safety. When Morton interrogated him as to where he had last come from, he declared that he had been, with his crew, put on board at sea, from a country craft, and the captors of the ship had taken all the passengers out and carried them he knew not where. Ronald would not believe this statement; but the man persisted in it, and seemed obstinately determined to make no other Captain Calder directed Morton to take command of the recaptured "Osterley," and Glover went as his lieutenant, with a couple of midshipmen, Job Truefitt, Bob Doull, and about thirty other hands. They not being sufficient to work the Indiaman, some twenty of the prisoners were retained on board her. It now became a question what course to steer. At length, as the wind was favourable, Captain Calder resolved to return to Calcutta, and should he not hear of the missing prisoners, to get the admiral to send some other ship in search of them. This determination of the captain was the only consolation Morton could obtain. Still the fact of their having fallen in with the Indiaman was of itself considerable encouragement. Two or three days passed by; the wind was light, and not much way was made. It would be difficult to describe the varied feelings with which Morton visited the cabins which had been occupied by the Armytage family. To calm the agitation of his mind, he went on deck and paced up and down by himself. At length, as he turned to walk forward, he saw Bob Doull coming aft, hat in hand, to the quarter-deck. The young seaman gave the usual hitch to his waistband, with a scrape of his foot, while he swung back his hat, and then waited till his superior looked as if he was ready to listen to him. "What is it, Doull?" asked Morton. "Please, sir, I've found among these outlandish chaps forward, we took aboard the prize, an old man who says as how he knows something about me, sir," said Bob, twisting his hat round and round. "About you, my man; who can he be?" inquired the lieutenant. "Why, sir, he says as how he's my daddy," answered Doull, bluntly. "He may be, cause as how my daddy went away to foreign parts many years gone by, and never came back; but if he is, he's a rum sort of one. I can't say as how I takes much to the old gentleman as yet." "Let me see the man, and hear his story," said Morton. "I had no idea that we had an Englishman among the prisoners." "Bring him aft at once; let him speak to no one; I must question him." Before long, Bob Doull was seen dragging along a tall, gaunt, grey-headed man, with a long beard and moustache, on whose head it was evident neither scissors nor razors had operated for many a year past. He was dressed like a French sailor, and except for a peculiar gait and certain movement characteristic of a British seaman, he would have been taken for a Frenchman. "Please, sir, this old man says as how he is my father," began Bob, handing him aft on the quarter-deck. "Come, cheer up, and tell Lieutenant Morton all you know." The old man cast an inquiring, doubtful look at Morton's countenance, but seemingly satisfied with his scrutiny, he exclaimed, "I want, sir, to make a clean breast of it. For many years of my life I haven't known what happiness is, and don't ever expect to know it again." "As to that," said Morton, interrupting him, "I'll hear you by-and-by; but first, I wish to know where you have come from, and where the passengers and crew of this ship are now to be found?" "I was coming to all that presently," persisted the old man. "It's of the past I want to speak." "But, man, lately, what have you done?--what crimes have you committed?" exclaimed Morton. "None that I know of," answered the seaman. "I was always a wild blade, from the time I first set foot on a ship's deck. There was no mischief I was not up to, no crime I feared committing. I had done many bad things, but the worst was to come. I was still a lad, and so was my chum, Archy Eagleshay, and another, an older man, and older in crime, too, but he's gone to his account, as we must all go, great and small." "You speak truth, my man," exclaimed Morton, now losing all patience. "Again I ask you to pass over your early days, and to come to the latter events of your career. How did you happen to be on board this ship, among a set of Frenchmen and ruffians of all nations?" "That was what I was coming to tell you, sir," giving a peculiar look at Morton, who was doubtful whether it was caused by stupidity or obstinacy. He saw, at all events, that there was no use in attempting to draw forth the information he required before the old man was ready to give it. After a pause, seeing that Morton was not again going to speak, the old man continued: "Well, as I was saying, sir, he who is gone came to Eagleshay and me, and says he, 'Are you lads ready to gain more golden guineas than you ever set eyes on in your life?' Of course we were. 'It's nothing but carrying off a slip of a baby who can do little more than talk, and just leaving him in the plantations.' We didn't ask questions, but we went on board a little sloop he owned, and then we waited, cruising about, till one evening he told us to pull on shore, and there we found a nurse and child, and the woman gave us the child. Away we went with it aboard the sloop, and made sail, and never dropped anchor till we reached the port of Dublin. Then our captain sold the sloop, and we all went aboard a ship and sailed for America. We didn't reach it though. We had done a cursed deed, and God's curse was to follow us. Our ship went down, and we were left floating on a raft; we were well-nigh starved, when a ship fell in with us, and we were taken on board. The captain was a kind-hearted man, and he said he would take care of the little fellow; and as our captain--he that's gone--had got the money for the deed he'd done, he didn't try to keep him; indeed, he could not have kept him if he'd wished; and so the good captain drew up a paper from what we'd told him, and he made us put our names to it, and he went and locked it up, and after that he never talked about the matter. We didn't know what he might do, so we ran from the ship at the first port we came to. From that day to this I never set eyes on the youngster, or heard of the good captain again. Well, one bad thing leads to another. We all then went out to the West Indies, and we shipped aboard some strange craft, and strange flags they sailed under. It was difficult to know, when you came on deck, what was flying at the peak. There were many things done which sickened me, and some of my shipmates I saw hung up at Port Royal in a way I didn't like, and at last I got away back to England. I then took a wife. Many years, you'll understand, had passed by. I thought I was going to remain on shore, and be quiet and honest. I'd one little chap born, and I began to be fonder of him than I had been of any living creature before; but I was short of money, and the old feeling came over me. When I wanted it out in the West Indies then I took it. I now did a thing or two which made me fly the country. From that day to this I have never set foot on the shores of old England." Morton thought that he might now venture to interrupt the old man. He had been so anxiously waiting for the account he might give of the passengers, that he paid little attention to the first part of the narrative. The old man declared that he knew nothing particular about them. He was on the other side of the island when the Indiaman arrived. He knew that a number of people had been landed, and that huts had been built for them, and that they were living on shore; but sentries were placed in the neighbourhood of the spot, and no one was allowed to pass to communicate with them. "But what is the character of the men who have possession of the islands? Are they men-of-war's men, privateers, or pirates?" inquired Ronald. The answer the old man gave was not perfectly satisfactory. "They might be pirates, for they were a rough set; but then privateers were often rough enough, and little better. Then again some of the ships which came in wore pennants, and the officers had uniforms; but it was easy enough for a privateer or a pirate to fly a pennant, and any man could put on a uniform, as he had often seen done by villains who finished their career by being hung up in chains." Morton took several turns on the deck. Could nothing satisfactory be made out of the old man? "Could you find your way back again to those islands you speak of?" he asked. "Maybe I could tell the course we've steered; for when it has been my trick at the helm I marked it well--it has always been the same. Five days had passed since we tripped our anchor before you fell in with us. Nor'-west by west, half west; and we ran between seven and eight knots an hour--seldom less, I should say. There, sir, can you make anything out of that?" "I hope so; and could you pilot us into the harbour from which you sailed?" asked the lieutenant. "That I could, I am bold to say, seeing that I've been fishing over every spot of it for the last ten years, or more," said the old man. "That will do, Mr Doull. Stay aft here, with your son, as you say he is; and I think you are right, for there is a likeness. I will trust to you, and I will do my best, if you prove true, to get you pardoned for any offence against the laws which you have committed." Ronald called Glover and signalised the frigate. Both ships hove-to, and he went on board. His consultation with Captain Calder was soon over, and on his return both ships shaped a course in the direction indicated by the old man. _ |
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