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True Blue, a fiction by William H. G. Kingston

Chapter 18

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_ CHAPTER EIGHTEEN.

The frigate was soon after this sent home with dispatches; but scarcely was she clear of the Straits of Gibraltar than the wind fell, a thick fog came on, and she lay becalmed some twenty leagues off the Spanish coast. So dense was the fog, that no object could be seen a quarter of a mile off.

At length a light breeze sprang up from the westward; but though strong enough to fill her sails and send her slowly gliding over the mirror-like surface of the water, it had not the power of blowing away the mist which hung over it.

True Blue was walking the forecastle with Paul Pringle when his quick ear caught the sound of a distant bell. He touched Paul's arm as a sign not to speak, and stood listening; then almost simultaneously another and another sounded, and the ship's bell directly after struck, as if responding to them. The sounds, it was evident, came down with the wind.

"Come aft and report them, in case the officer should not have heard them."

Mr Brine was on deck and listened attentively to what True Blue had to say. "How far off were the bells?" he asked.

"Half a mile, sir," was the prompt answer.

"Large or small, should you say?"

"Large, sir," said True Blue.

"English or French? I take it that there is a difference in the sound."

"And so there is, sir," quickly replied True Blue. "I marked it when we were aboard the _Ralieuse_; and now, sir, you ask me, I should say they were French."

"Very clear, indeed," remarked the first lieutenant. "Go into the weather-rigging, Freeborn, and keep your eyes about you and your ears open, and report anything more you may discover."

Mr Brine then went into the cabin to consult with the Captain. The sentry was ordered, when his half-hour glass was run out, to turn it, but not to sound the bell; and the word was passed along the decks to keep the ship as quiet as possible.

It was possible that they were in the presence of a greatly superior force of the enemy. The frigate's course, however, was not altered. The breeze was freshening, and any moment the veil might be lifted from the face of the waters, and the vessels floating on it disclosed to each other. Everything on board the frigate was prepared for flight or battle; and, in spite of the probability of having to contend with a superior force, the crew showed by their remarks that they would infinitely prefer the latter to the former alternative.

The only two, probably, on board who wished to avoid a fight were Sam Smatch and Gregory Gipples, who still remained on board. Poor Gregory would gladly have followed some more pacific calling, but his poverty, and not his will, compelled him to be a sailor. Besides, he was now a big, stout, well-fed fellow, and could pull and haul as well as many seamen; and in those days the pressgang took care that once a sailor, a man should remain always a sailor. Big as he was, and inclined to bully all fresh hands, Tim Fid defied him, and never ceased playing him tricks and quizzing him.

"Gipples, my boy, they say that there are three big Frenchmen coming down upon us, and that we are to fight them all!" cried Fid, giving his messmate a dig in the ribs. "One down, t'other come on, I hope it will be; but whether we drub them or not, some of us will be losing the number of our mess."

"Oh, don't talk so, Fid!" answered Gipples, looking very yellow. "What's the use of it? We don't see the enemy."

"No, but we very soon shall," said Fid. "Just let the mist lift, and there they'll be as big as life one on each quarter, so that every shot they fire will rake us pretty nigh fore and aft. Our Captain's not a man to give in, as you well know; so we shall soon have our sticks a-rattling down about our heads, and the round-shot whizzing by us, and splinters flying about, and arms and legs and heads tumbling off. How does yours feel, Gipples? It's odd a shot has never come foul of it yet. Howsomdever, you can't expect that always to be. But never mind, old fellow. I'll tell the old people at home how you died like a true British sailor; and if you have any message to your old chums, just tell me what to say."

Thus, with an ingenious talent at tormenting, Tim Fid ran on, till, from the vivid picture he drew, poor Gipples was fairly frightened out of his senses. Tim was just then called off by the boatswain. When he came back, Gipples was nowhere to be seen. The crew had been sent quietly to their quarters without the usual beat of drum. Gipples ought to have been seated on his powder tub, but he was not. He had been seen to go forward. Fid looked anxiously for him. He did not return.

A considerable time passed. No Gipples appeared, and Fid felt sure that he must have slipped purposely overboard.

Still Fid was not as happy as usual. True Blue asked him what was the matter. He told him of his fears about Gipples. Indeed, the unguarded powder tub was strong evidence that he was right in his surmises. Another boy was ordered to take charge of the tub, and nobody but Tim thought much more about the hapless Gregory.

The wind had gradually been increasing, and at length it gained sufficient strength to sweep before it the banks of heavy mist, when the loud sharp cry of the lookouts announced five sail right astern, and some five or six miles distant. As they could be seen clearly from the deck, numerous glasses were instantly pointed at them, when they were pronounced without doubt to be enemy's ships.

They also saw the frigate, and instantly bore up in chase. Had they all been line-of-battle ships, the swift-footed little _Ruby_ might easily have escaped from them; but two looked very like frigates, and many of that class in those days were superior in speed to the fleetest English frigates.

All sail was made on the _Ruby_, and she was kept due north. "We may fall in with one of our own squadrons, or we may manage to keep ahead of the enemy till night, and then I shall have no fear of them," observed the Captain as he walked the quarterdeck with his first lieutenant.

"We shall soon see how fast the Frenchmen can walk along after us," answered Mr Brine. "I hope the _Ruby_ won't prove a sluggard on this occasion; she has shown that she can go along when in chase of an enemy."

"Even should the two frigates come up with us, we must manage to keep them at bay," said the Captain. "I know, Brine, that you will never strike as long as a hope of escape remains."

"That I will not, sir!" exclaimed the first lieutenant warmly, and Mr Brine was not the man to neglect such a pledge.

"Never fear, lads," said Paul Pringle; "the Captain carried us clear with about as great odds against us once before, and he'll do it again now if the breeze holds fair."

"But suppose it doesn't, and those thundering big Frenchmen manage to get alongside of us, what are we to do then?" asked a young seaman who had lately been impressed from a merchantman.

"What do, Dunnage?--why, fight them, man!" answered Paul briskly. "You don't suppose, do you, that we should do anything else till we have done that? We may knock away their spars, or maybe a shift of wind may come, or a gale spring up, or we may give such hard knocks that the enemy may think us a bad bargain. At all events, the first thing a man-of-war has to do is to fight."

In a short time it was seen that the two frigates took the lead, and that one of them was much ahead of the other. "All right," said Paul when he perceived this, "we shall be able to settle with one before the other comes on."

The officers, however, knew well enough, as in reality did Paul, that a vessel much inferior in size might so far cripple them and impede their progress as to allow the more powerful ships to come up. Still the _Ruby_ was well ahead when the sun went down. As twilight rapidly deepened into the gloom of night, the spirits of all on board increased. A light was now shown at the cabin window. There was no moon, and the night became very dark. Meantime, a cask had been prepared with a bright light on the top of it. The loftier sails were handed, the cask was lowered, and at the same instant the after-ports were closed. The light was seen floating brightly and calmly astern. The helm was then put down, the yards braced up, and the frigate stood away on a bowline close-hauled to the westward.

For some hours she tore on with her hammock nettings almost in the water; but it was a race for freedom, and what Briton would not undergo any risk for that? No one, not even the idlers, thought of turning in. Dawn came at length. Eager and sharp eyes were on the lookout at the mastheads, but not a sign of the enemy was perceived. Once more the helm was put up, and the frigate stood to the north-west.

Never did a ship's company turn to at their breakfast with more hearty goodwill than did that of the _Ruby_. The only person missing at his mess was Gregory Gipples; and this convinced Tim Fid that he must have thrown himself overboard. True Blue and Harry Hartland, however, differed with him, and argued the point. "If he was such a coward and so afraid of shot, surely he would not deliberately go and destroy himself," said they.

Fid insisted that his great fear of being shot made him dread less the idea of drowning.

"He wasn't quite such a fool as all that," said Harry. "Here comes Sam Smatch. Let's ask him what he thinks about it."

"What do I think about it?" exclaimed Sam, after they had laid the state of the case before him. "I'll tell ye, boys. Big Gipples, him no fool. He's stowed his fat carcase away somewhere down in de hold. Let's you all and me go and look for him, and we soon rouse him up like one great rat with rope's end."

"Set a thief to catch a thief!" whispered Harry to Fid. "I thought he would know where Gipples was likely to be found."

Sam had been known on more than one occasion to stow himself snugly away during action. When discovered, he had boldly avowed the wisdom of his conduct. "For why?" he argued. "Suppose now my arm shot away, ship's company lose fiddler; for how I fiddle without arm? And suppose no fiddler, how anchor got up? how ship go to sea? and how take prize? and how dance and be merry? No, no; you men no signify--go and be shot. I berry important--take care of self."

Accordingly, Sam being the guide, the party set out with proper authority to look for the missing Gipples. They searched in every vacant space in the cable tier, and in every accessible spot in the hold, among the water-casks and more bulky stores not under lock and key; but no Gregory was forthcoming.

Fid began to fear that his forebodings would prove true. One spot, however, had to be visited, commonly called the coal-hole. It was very dark and close, and not a place that any one would willingly pass a day in.

They thought that every corner had been explored, when, just as they were retiring, Fid heard a suppressed groan. He started, and, had he been alone, he felt that he should not have liked it; but he was a brave little fellow, especially in company with others; so he stopped and listened, and called Sam, who held the lantern, to examine the spot whence the groan had proceeded.

There was a loose pile of firewood in one corner; and, on examining it, there was no doubt that it had slipped over during the night. "He or his ghost is under there," said Fid, pointing to it.

"Even if it's his ghost, it's not a pleasant place to be in!" exclaimed True Blue, setting to work to remove the logs.

This was soon accomplished; and there, sure enough, black as a sweep from the coal dust, and bruised with the logs, lay not the ghost of Gipples, but Gipples himself, terribly frightened with the idea that he was looked-for only that he might be drawn forth to be punished.

"Oh, lagged--lagged!" he exclaimed bitterly. "I'll not do it again-- indeed I won't, your worship. Just let me off this once. Oh do!"

"What's the fellow singing out about?" exclaimed Sam. "Just you come out. No one's going to hurt you. Just wash yourself and come and have some breakfast. You look pretty near dead already."

The truth was that the poor wretch was already out of his wits with fright, starvation, and sleepiness, and had a very confused idea of where he was or what had happened.

Sam Smatch now acted the part of a good Samaritan towards him. He got him up on the lower-deck, and then went and called the doctor, and said that he had found him bruised all over and apparently out of his wits. The doctor ordered him to be put into a hammock in the sick-bay.

Sam, however, first got him washed and cleaned, and gave him some food, which considerably revived him. After this, when Gipples came to himself, Sam administered a severe lecture to him for his cowardice.

"But you, Sam--you're afraid, I'm sure, Sam," whimpered the culprit.

"No, I not afraid," he answered indignantly; "but why for I go lose my head or arm, when I get noding for it? I am paid to play the fiddle and help the cook. I do my duty and keep out of harm's way. You, Gipples, are paid to be shot--you must stay where the shot comes, or you not do your duty. There all de difference."

"Then I'll try and get a rating where I needn't stop and be shot!" cried Gipples, as if a bright idea had seized him. "If I can't, I'll cut and run. I can't stand it--that I can't."

Had not the doctor reported the boy Gipples as having met with an accident, he would have been severely flogged for not having been at his quarters. As it was, he escaped without further punishment; but he got the name from his messmates of "Gregory Coal-hole."

The ship without further adventure reached Portsmouth. At this time, in spite of the destruction of so many ships and magazines at Toulon, the French Republic was preparing an armament so great that she hoped to be able at once to crush with it the fleets of Old England. The British Government, however, had not been idle; and a superb fleet of thirty-four line-of-battle ships, and numerous frigates, under Lord Howe, lay at Portsmouth ready to sail to meet the enemy.

Besides fighting, the Admiral had, however, two important objects in view. One was to intercept a convoy of some three hundred and fifty merchant vessels coming from the ports of the United States, laden with provisions and the produce of the West India Islands for the supply of the people of France, who were threatened with starvation for the want of them; the other object was to see the British East and West India and Newfoundland convoys clear of the Channel, where they might be intercepted by French cruisers.

The _Ruby_ was attached to Lord Howe's squadron. It was a magnificent sight, when, on the morning of the 2nd of May 1794, a fleet of one hundred and forty-eight sail collected at Saint Helen's, of which forty-nine were ships of war, weighed by signal, and with the wind at north-east, stood out from that well-known anchorage at the east end of the Isle of Wight, from which they were clear by noon. The weather was fine, the crews were in good discipline, the ships kept well together, and the men doubted not that they were able to fight and to conquer any foe they might encounter.

Never had Paul Pringle felt more proud of his country and his profession, as, walking the deck of the frigate, with True Blue at his side, he looked out at the numerous magnificent ships which glided proudly over the blue ocean.

"Look there, Billy--look there, my boy! Isn't that a sight to make a sailor's heart swell high with pride?" he exclaimed as he swept his arm round the horizon.

"It does, godfather--it does!" answered True Blue warmly. "And if I hadn't loved the sea and the life of a sailor better than anything else, I should have loved it now, I think."

"Right, boy--right!" exclaimed Paul. "It's the calling for a man-- there's no doubt on't. Look there now at Earl Howe's ship, the _Queen Charlotte_, called after our own good Queen, with her hundred guns; and then the _Royal George_, with Admiral Sir Alexander Hood's flag, and the _Royal Sovereign_, which carries that of Admiral Graves, each with their hundred bulldogs; and the _Barfleur_, and the _Impregnable_. And the _Queen_, and the _Glory_, each of them not much smaller; and the _Gibraltar_, and the _Caesar_, of eighty guns each. And then look at that hoop of seventy-fours. There's the _Billy Ruffian_, and the _Tremendous_, and the _Ramillies_, and the _Audacious_, and the _Leviathan_, and _Majestic_, and the _Orion_, and _Marlborough_, and _Brunswick_, and _Culloden_--they'll make a noise in the world some day, and perhaps before long too."

"That's it, Paul," said True Blue, looking up at his godfather's face. "I like our ship, as you know right well, and every timber and plank in her; but I should like to be aboard one of those seventy-fours when the day of battle comes. We aboard the frigates shall see what is going on, but the fine fellows belonging to them will have the real work."

Paul glanced down approvingly at True Blue. "Never mind that, boy," he answered. "We have had our turn while the line-of-battle ships were in harbour doing nothing, and we shall have it again, no fear of that. Besides, d'ye see, the enemy have frigates, and we may pick out one of them to lay aboard; or what do you say when the Frenchmen take to flight, we may then go in chase of some of their ships, and, big as they are, make them haul down their colours."

"Ay, that's some consolation," answered True Blue. "Still, it is not like being in the middle of the fight--that you'll allow, godfather."

"No, True Blue, it is not, boy; but in the middle of the fight you see nothing often--only your own gun and the side of the enemy at which you are firing away," remarked Paul. "Now aboard a frigate we are outside of all, and can see all the movements of our ships as well as those of the enemy; and as to fighting, a frigate with a smart Captain gets twice as much of that as any line-of-battle ship; except, perhaps, three or four favourites of fortune, which somehow seem to be in at everything. Look now, there's Lord Howe signalling away, and Admiral Montague answering him."

The fleet was now off the Lizard. The signal was made for the different convoys to part company, and for Admiral Montague, with six seventy-fours and two frigates, to protect them as far as the latitude of Cape Finisterre. Away sailed the rich argosies, many of the Indiamen worth hundreds of thousands of pounds, and almost as large as the line-of-battle ships themselves. Extending far as the eye could reach, they covered the glittering ocean with their white canvas and shining hulls, their flags streaming out gaily to the breeze.

Lord Howe, with the remainder of the men-of-war, steered for Ushant, and, arriving there, sent some frigates to look into Brest, to ascertain if the French fleet was there. The frigates returned with the report that it was in the harbour, a large number of ships having been clearly seen. Lord Howe calculating the time that the expected convoy from America would probably arrive, steered straight on a course to intercept them. The line-of-battle ships had of necessity to keep together, in case of encountering an enemy's squadron; but the frigates were scattered far and wide; and True Blue had no reason to complain of want of employment, as night and day a sharp lookout was kept for a strange sail.

None, however, was seen, and once more the fleet returned to the neighbourhood of Brest. Two frigates, with two line-of-battle ships to support them, were now ordered to look once more into Brest harbour. On going in, they met with an American merchantman coming out, and, on a boat from the _Leviathan_ boarding her, the master informed the officer in command that the French fleet had sailed some days before. This report was found to be correct, and the same evening the reconnoitring detachment rejoined the fleet.

Without loss of time, Lord Howe sailed in search of the French fleet. This consisted of some twenty-five ships of the line, and sixteen frigates or corvettes under the command of Admiral Villaret-Joyeuse, in the _Montague_, of 120 guns; besides this ship, considered so enormous in those days, there were three of 110 guns, and four eighty-gun ships, all the rest being seventy-fours. The first object of this fleet was to protect the expected convoy of provision ships, while that of the English was to capture it. The French Admiral steered, therefore, a direct course to the point where he hoped to intercept the convoy. His ships, indeed, passed so close to those of the British during a thick fog that they heard the usual fog-signals of the latter, such as the ringing of bells and beating of drums; but as their object was not then to fight, they did their best not to be discovered, and on the following morning, when the fog cleared, they were out of sight of each other.

Lord Howe had, however, determined to overtake and bring the Frenchmen to action; and as the ocean at that time was covered with vessels of all nations, playing somewhat a puss-in-the-corner game as they ran from port to port, he had every reason to expect that he would obtain the required information as to their movements.

On the evening of the 19th of May a frigate appeared, despatched by Admiral Montague, saying that, while cruising in the latitude of Cape Ortegal, he had captured a French twenty-gun ship and a corvette, with ten British sail of the Newfoundland convoy which they had taken; that, from the information he obtained from the prisoners, he found that the squadron protecting the American merchant fleet now consisted of nine line-of-battle ships and several frigates, and requesting, therefore, reinforcements. He was then, he stated, about to proceed along the same meridian of longitude to the latitude of 45 degrees 47 minutes north, in which, according to the information of the prisoners, the Rochefort squadron had been directed to cruise.

On learning this, Lord Howe, believing that Admiral Montague's squadron was in danger of being overpowered by Villaret, made all sail to his rescue.

On the 21st, however, the lookout gave notice of a strange fleet in sight. Chase was made, and ten out of fifteen sail of merchantmen--part of the Lisbon convoy captured by the Brest fleet--were retaken.

The vessels were burnt, as Lord Howe could not weaken his crews by sending them into port. From the prize crews taken in them, he learned that the French had prepared red-hot shot, and that the officers had determined to engage at close quarters. At the first piece of information the British seamen were inclined to laugh; and as to the second, though inclined to doubt it, they only hoped it might be true.

No sooner was the information received that the French fleet was so near, than Lord Howe abandoned his intention of joining Admiral Montague, whom he considered in safety, and stretched away to the northward and westward in daily expectation of coming up with the enemy.

All the information he gleaned confirmed Lord Howe in the opinion that he was but a short distance from the enemy. The morning of the 28th of May found the British fleet, with a strong wind at south by west and a heavy sea, formed in order of sailing, with the lookout frigates stationed around them. The _Ruby_ was to windward, about one hundred and forty leagues west of Ushant, and True Blue was one of the lookouts. Great was his delight when at 6:30 a.m., he discovered a sail to the south-south-east, and scarcely had he hailed the deck with the information than he made out a strange fleet directly to windward.

"Hurrah! there is the enemy!" was the general cry throughout the British fleet.

Intense was the interest on board every English ship. In about two hours the French were seen bearing down in somewhat loose order; but when about ten miles off, they hauled their wind and began to form in order of battle.

The frigates were now for safety recalled, and the main body continued in the order of sailing, except the _Bellerophon_, _Leviathan_, _Marlborough_, _Audacious_, _Russell_, and _Thunderer_, which were a considerable distance in advance to windward, and were coming fast up with the enemy's rear. The ever-exciting signal of the whole fleet to chase and prepare for action was now thrown out from the _Queen Charlotte_. Every sail the ships could carry was immediately set, and away the whole fleet plunged through the rolling, tumbling sea in chase of the flying enemy. It was not, however, till towards the evening that Admiral Pasley, in the _Bellerophon_, closed with the rear ship of the enemy's line, a three-decker, on which he commenced a firm and resolute attack, supported occasionally by the ships in his division. The _Bellerophon_ being soon disabled, fell to leeward; and just then the _Audacious_ came up, and for two hours most gallantly engaged the Frenchman, which proved to be the _Revolutionnaire_ of 110 guns. The enemy's mizen-mast falling overboard, and her lower yards and main-topsail-yard having been shot away, she fell athwart hawse of the _Audacious_. Getting clear, however, she put before the wind; nor was it in the power of the latter, from her own crippled condition, to follow her.

Still the French, though having the weather-gage, and therefore having it entirely in their power to engage, avoided an action. By the persevering efforts of some of the weathermost ships of the British, several of their ships most to leeward were compelled to fight. One of them indeed struck; but, a consort coming up and pouring a broadside into her as a gentle reminder of her duty she again hoisted her colours. The frigates meantime were hovering about, ready to obey any orders they might receive, their Captains and officers, as well as their crews, naturally severely criticising the movements of the two fleets, and jealous that they themselves were not permitted to take part in the now active work going on.

"That's always like them, Abel, isn't it?" exclaimed Paul Pringle as he watched the main body of the French fleet still keeping aloof. "It puts me just in mind of what they used to do in the West Indies. When they numbered twice as strong as we did, they would come down boldly enough; but when we showed our teeth and barked, they'd be about again, thinking that they would wait for a better opportunity."

"Ay, Paul, I mind it well. Even Billy here minds it, too, though he was a little chap then," answered Abel, placing his hand on the lad's shoulder. "And, True Blue, what's more, do you tell it to your children's children. Never mind how big may be the ships of the enemy, or how many guns they may carry, let British seamen when they meet them, as we do nowadays, feel sure that they will conquer, and I am very sure that conquer they will; ay, however the Frenchmen may bluster and boast of their mountain ships, just as the French Admiral does now."

"That's it, mate," chimed in Peter Ogle. "That's the way. Go at them. Show them that you know you are going to thrash them--stick to it. Never mind if you are getting the worst; be sure you'll be getting the better before long, and, as Abel was a-saying, so you will in the end."

"Right, right!" said Abel impressively. "Suppose now they were for to go for to cover up their ships with padding, or thick coats of wood or iron, just as men once had to do their bodies, I've heard tell, when they went to battle,--not that in the matter of ships it could be done on course, ha! ha! ha! but we never knows what vagaries the Monsieurs may try. Well, what should we do? Stand and play at long bowls with them? No, I should think not; but go at them, run them down, or lay them alongside just as we do now, and give them the taste of our cutlasses. They'll never stand them as long as there's muscle and bone in an Englishman's arm."

"Never did you say a truer word, Abel!" exclaimed Paul. "And mind you remember it, True Blue. But I say, mates, what's the _Caesar_ about there? I've been watching her for some hours, and there she is still under treble-reefed topsails; and, instead of boldly standing up along the French line, she has been edging away, and now she's been and tacked as if she was afraid of the enemy. What can she be about? He's making the Frenchmen fancy that there is a British officer in this fleet who fears them. Oh, boys, for my part I would sooner be the cook than the Captain of that ship! But don't let's look at him; it makes my heart turn sick. Look instead at our brave old Admiral! He is a fine fellow. See, see! he has tacked. He doesn't care a rap for the Frenchman's fire. The _Queen Charlotte_ must be getting it pretty warmly, though. There, he's standing right down, and he's going to break the French line. There's a broadside the old lady has poured into the quarter of one of those rear French ships. Now he luffs up right under her stern, and has repeated the dose. The Frenchman will not forget it in a hurry. There go the _Billy Ruffian_ and the _Leviathan_. They'll cut off a couple of Frenchmen if they manage well. Hurrah! That's the way to go about the work. It cannot be long before our fine old chief makes the Frenchmen fight, whether they will or not."

Several other ships, besides those observed by Paul Pringle and True Blue, were hotly engaged during the course of that 29th of May, and lost a considerable number of officers and men. _

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