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The Voyage of the Aurora

by Harry Collingwood · English · Gutenberg #27906 · 513,950 chars · public domain (US)

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Title: The Voyage of the Aurora

Author: Harry Collingwood


        
Release date: January 27, 2009 [eBook #27906]

Language: English

Other information and formats: www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/27906

Credits: Produced by Nick Hodson of London, England


*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE VOYAGE OF THE AURORA ***




Produced by Nick Hodson of London, England




The Voyage of the Aurora, by Harry Collingwood.



CHAPTER ONE.

INTRODUCES LUCY WALFORD.

Those who have ever had occasion to reside for any length of time in
Gosport are sure to be more or less acquainted with the little village
of Alverstoke; because it lies near at hand, and the road leading
thereto forms one of the most pleasant walks in the neighbourhood.

But it may be that there are those, into whose hands this book will
fall, who have never so much as heard the name of the place.  For their
benefit, then, it may be worth while to state that Alverstoke is
pleasantly situated at a distance of about one mile from the
above-mentioned town of Gosport, and within half a mile of the waters of
the Solent.

It is a very unimportant little place at the present day: it was even
more so in the year 17--, the year in which this veracious history
opens.  It was unimportant, that is to say, in a _general_ sense; the
public knew very little about it, and cared still less; but in a
_particular_ sense, and to the officers of His Majesty's Customs, it was
a very important place indeed, inasmuch as the inhabitants, animated by
a spirit of enterprise and a love of adventure not to be satisfied by
such very ordinary and humdrum pursuits as those of fishing and
market-gardening, had, almost to a man--to say nothing of the women and
children--added thereto the illegal but lucrative and exciting
occupation of smuggling; to the great loss and damage of the king's
revenues.

The village consisted, at that time, of a single short, narrow street
with a bend in the middle of it.  Nearly one half of the north side of
this street was occupied by the churchyard and church; the remaining
portion, as well as the opposite side of the way, being composed of
small low, two-story cottages with thatched roofs (and most of them
having little projecting dormer-windows), a couple of public-houses, and
a small grocery establishment.

This constituted the village proper; but a little aloof from it--being
in it but not of it, as it were--there were in all perhaps half a dozen
residences of a somewhat more pretentious kind.  There was the rectory,
for instance, on the opposite side of the road, eastward of the church,
built in the very centre of its extensive garden, and snugly surrounded
on all sides by high stone walls.  Then there was Stoke House, near the
rectory, standing well back from the road, embowered in trees, and with
a carriage-drive running straight up through its beautiful rose-garden
to the front door.  Nearer the beach, and on the opposite side of the
valley, was "Verbena Cottage," the abode of Lieutenant Bobus, in command
of the coast-guard; and still nearer the beach, some ten or a dozen
yards back from the road, enclosed within a neat paling, sheltered by
lofty trees, with a lovely flower-garden in front and an extensive fruit
and kitchen-garden in the rear, stood "Sea View," a small but well-built
house, in which resided the relict and daughter of the late "Cap'n"
Walford.

The late "Cap'n" Walford had been a wonderfully popular man in his day;
and his memory was greatly esteemed and revered by the villagers.
Manifesting, at an early age, a love of enterprise and excitement quite
extraordinary even in an Alverstoke man, he had seized the first
opportunity which offered to become the owner of a very fine
fast-sailing lugger, in which, during his thirty years of devotion to
maritime pursuits, he, by a rare combination of prudence and audacity,
gradually acquired the reputation of being a most successful smuggler--
and the snug little fortune of some ten thousand pounds.  The latter and
more desirable portion of his acquirements he carefully invested, as it
dribbled in bit by bit, in house-property in the neighbourhood; so that,
when this estimable man's career was cut short at the comparatively
early age of sixty years, by an unlucky cannon-shot fired from a revenue
cutter, his disconsolate relict found herself the possessor of a
comfortable income amounting to some five hundred pounds per annum,
together with "Sea View" and--last, but by no means least--a daughter,
fourteen years of age.  This melancholy event occurred four years before
the date at which this history opens; Lucy Walford was therefore about
eighteen years old when the first of that train of events happened which
it is herein proposed to record.

Mrs Walford was wont to assert, just about this time, that Lucy was the
very living picture of what she herself used to be when a girl.  If this
was indeed true, it was at once an evidence of that remarkable good
taste which the late "cap'n" was said to have possessed, and of the
extraordinary changes effected by the hand of Time, for no one could
ever have suspected such a resemblance without Mrs Walford's assurance.
The old lady was a sad and subdued personage, thin and angular of
figure and face, with prominent cheek-bones, eye-brows, and chin, dark
eyes, deeply sunk in their sockets, a broad forehead, ploughed with
innumerable wrinkles, a long sharp aquiline nose, a large thin-lipped
mouth, and a querulous temper.

Lucy, on the other hand, was of medium height, slight, graceful figure,
abounding in delicate curves, with small hands and feet, an exquisite
complexion, a face, the sweet piquant loveliness of which set all the
youth of Alverstoke--and Gosport too, for that matter--by the ears, a
wealth of long silky golden hair, which persisted in twisting itself
into a most distracting conglomeration of wavy curls, and a temper which
nothing--not even her mother's querulousness--could ruffle.

That Lucy should be fairly beset by suitors was only natural.  There was
not a single bold young smuggler of marriageable age in all the country
round about who did not cherish in a greater or lesser degree the fond
hope of one day making her his own, albeit most of them were--it is only
just to say--dimly cognisant of the fact that she was much too good for
the best of them.  It was probably in consequence of this feeling that
only one or two--the boldest of the bold of this dashing fraternity--
had, so far, mustered up the courage to approach the young lady with a
distinct proposal of marriage; and these, it is hardly necessary to say,
had been firmly, but as pleasantly as possible, sent to the right-about.
This class of lovers gave Lucy no trouble whatever; bold as they might
be in the pursuit of their lawless avocation, they were diffident to the
verge of absurdity in the presence of beauty, if associated with dignity
and refinement; they were painfully conscious of their uncouth bearing
and manners; and Lucy had little difficulty in keeping them at a proper
distance.

But if these admirers gave her no trouble, there were others--notably
two--who did; quite enough, in fact, to fully compensate for the ease
with which she was able to manage all the rest.  One of these was a
certain Lieutenant Walford, a cousin of Lucy's; the other being Captain
George Leicester, of the merchant schooner _Industry_.

Edward Walford was the only son of a half-brother of the late Captain
Walford.  He was an orphan, twenty-three years of age, and held a
commission in his Majesty's--foot, then quartered in Gosport.  He was
fairly well educated, tall, passably good-looking, of engaging manners,
but--those who knew him best said--treacherous, unscrupulous, and a
gamester.

George Leicester, on the other hand, whilst perhaps quite as handsome as
his rival, was simply a frank, honest, sturdy seaman, carrying his heart
upon his sleeve; thoroughly master of his profession, but diffident and
doubtful of himself in all other matters.

The trouble with these two was, that Walford could not be made to see
that his presence was distasteful to Lucy; whilst Leicester was
provokingly blind to the fact that the fair girl loved him with all her
pure, simple little heart.  She had not given her love to him unsought,
it must be understood--far from it; George Leicester had been one of the
earliest, as he was one of her most constant and devoted, admirers; he
was unremitting in his attentions to her whenever he was in port; but
the simple fellow was so doubtful as to his prospects of success that he
had never given Lucy the chance, which she would so gladly have
welcomed, to say "Yes" to the momentous question which was ever hovering
upon his lips, but had never yet been able to get beyond them.

It was on a certain brilliant June afternoon that Lucy, as was her
frequent custom, took a book in her hand and strolled down to the beach,
where, making a little nest for herself in the shingle, she sat down to
read or think, as the whim might take her.

The ardent rays of the sun, streaming down out of a cloudless sky,
gleamed and flashed and sparkled upon the waters of the Solent, which,
ruffled by a gentle westerly breeze, shone like a sheet of liquid gold.
On the further side of the strait, the Isle of Wight upreared its green
and wooded slopes in fair perspective; its northern shore, from
Nettlestone Point to Egypt, bounding the view.  On Lucy's right lay the
entrance to Southampton Water, with the further shore, about Stone Point
and the mouth of the Beaulieu River, indistinctly seen through the
quivering golden haze; whilst on the left, across the water, Southsea
Castle stood boldly forward upon its low projecting point, a watchful
sentinel over the magnificent anchorage of Spithead.  Inland from the
castle lay the little straggling town of Southsea; and beyond it again,
still higher up the estuary, appeared the spires and roofs of
Portsmouth, its harbour crowded with a perfect forest of masts.  Some
half a dozen men-o'-war lay at anchor at Spithead; and the waters of the
Solent were dotted with the sails of craft of all sizes, from the
stately frigate to the humble but enterprising bumboat.

As Lucy sat there on the beach, basking in the sun, and far too idle to
read, her listless gaze became fastened upon a trim, smart-looking
little schooner which, under all the canvas she could possibly spread,
was creeping slowly up from the westward before the light summer breeze.
The glance of indifference with which the fair girl at first regarded
the little craft, gradually changed to one of the greatest interest.
Lucy, it must be remembered, was a sailor's daughter; nearly all her
neighbours were interested almost solely in seafaring matters; the daily
conversation of those by whom she was surrounded abounded in nautical
technicalities; she had even made a trip upon one occasion in her
father's lugger (the only occasion, by the bye, on which the hold of the
said lugger was absolutely guiltless of contraband freight); and lastly,
were not the walls of her home adorned with portraits of craft of
various rigs passing Flushing or the Needles?  All of which
circumstances had combined to give Lucy a very fair knowledge of
nautical matters and "a sailor's eye."  She had not only learned the
distinguishing characteristics of different rigs, but had also acquired
the subtle power of recognising the individuality of different craft of
the same rig whenever there happened to be anything to excite her
interest in such craft.  So now she first recognised the fact that the
approaching vessel was a schooner, and, a little later on, when the
schooner had drawn somewhat nearer, she became conscious that the
schooner was well known to her.  Drawing a small telescope from her
pocket, she focussed it and pointed it at the vessel.  Yes; there could
be no doubt about it, it was the _Industry_; every little detail of
canvas and rigging proclaimed the schooner's identity; and then, as
though in order that there should be no possible room for doubt, and as
though George Leicester had seen and recognised the charming girlish
figure standing there on the beach (as possibly he had through his
powerful marine glass), a white fluttering object gleamed out over the
rail and, soaring aloft, streamed from the main-truck, a burgee with the
name _Industry_ worked upon it in red letters.  At the sight of this
Lucy rapidly closed her little telescope and returned it to her pocket
with a bright flush and a conscious, happy little laugh.

"Dear George," she murmured; "how glad I am that he is back all safe;
and how fervently I hope that he did not see me watching the schooner.
I wonder whether he will walk over this evening."

She then, uncomfortably conscious of the possibility that "dear George"
might at that very moment have her accurately focussed in the field of
his glass, sauntered along the beach with as much of an air of total
abstraction as she could conveniently assume on the spur of the moment,
and finally, after watching the schooner pass safely into Portsmouth
Harbour and there come to an anchor, returned home.

She found her mother suffering from a more than ordinarily severe attack
of "the miserables," as that lady was wont to term her low spirits.  It
was one of Mrs Walford's peculiarities to be depressed in spirits in
exact proportion to the brightness and exhilarating character of the
weather--but Lucy was completely proof against it all just now; the
sight she had so lately looked upon had sent a soft, dainty flush into
her cheeks, a light into her eyes, and a song to her lips, which her
mother's "miserables" were wholly powerless to drive away, and she went
about the house filling it with the melody of her low, sweet voice.

Tea was over; Mrs Walford was made comfortable in her wide arm-chair,
with a huge volume of sermons in her lap; and Lucy was trying to settle
down with composure to the execution of some trifle in the way of
needle-work, when the sharp click of the gate-latch was heard; there was
a crunching of feet upon the gravel walk, the front door was
unceremoniously opened, and Lieutenant Edward Walford walked in.

"How _do_, aunt?  Lucy, fair coz, I hope I see you in a state of perfect
salubrity?" was his nonchalant greeting.

Mrs Walford replied that "she was as well as could be expected,"--she
did not say under what adverse circumstances--and Lucy requested him not
to make himself ridiculous.  It was too bad, she decided; here she had
been looking forward to a delightful visit from George Leicester,
probably a whole evening spent in his society, and now this pestilent
cousin of hers must needs take it into his perverse head to walk over
from Gosport--to be found later on by "dear George" making fierce love
to her, the unfortunate Lucy;--which would be quite sufficient, she felt
sure, to choke the said George off for at least another voyage.  But
that should never be, she was quite resolved; she could not prevent her
cousin coming to the house, since her mother not only tolerated, but
rather encouraged his visits; but she could, and she _would_, prevent
his making love to her.

With this determination she sat down, and, resorting to the best means
she could think of for keeping her cousin at arm's length, produced her
writing-materials and proceeded to discharge a few of her epistolary
debts.

Being thus unmistakably shown that his presence was unwelcome to the
younger lady, he turned his attention to the elder one, talking to her
about the war--the then all-important and most interesting topic of the
moment--and giving her such scraps of news as had come to hand during
the day, but it was perfectly evident from the uneasy glances he shot at
his cousin and the nervous way in which he tugged at his long auburn
moustache, that his occupation was not to his liking.  At last,
abandoning all further effort to accomplish the almost impossible task
of amusing the old lady, he stepped to Lucy's side, and said in a low
whisper--

"Will you come into the garden with me for a few minutes, Lucy?  I have
something of the utmost importance to say to you, something which will
brook no delay, for my regiment is ordered off to the West Indies, and I
may not have another opportunity to see you."

Lucy knew as well as possible what the "something" was which her cousin
so anxiously desired to say to her; she was convinced that it was
nothing less than a proposal of marriage; and her first impulse was to
excuse herself.  But that, she decided, would hardly be kind on the eve
of his departure for foreign service; moreover, it might leave him in
possession of a feeling that there was some hope for him, or possibly,
after the many love-speeches he had made her, he might feel himself in
some sort bound not to marry any one else until he had had a distinct
refusal from her, and that must certainly be avoided; so she decided
that she would grant him the desired interview, give him his dismissal
as speedily and withal as kindly as possible, and get him out of the
house without delay--it was still early in the evening, and who knew but
that she might succeed in getting rid of her unwelcome suitor before the
welcome one put in an appearance?

So, laying aside her pen, she motioned him to follow her into the large
garden at the back of the house, where they would be perfectly secure
from observation, and herself led the way.

She conducted her cousin to a little summer-house at the lower end of
the garden, and, motioning him to a seat said--

"Now, Cousin Edward, what is this important communication which you have
to make?  Be as brief as possible, if you please, for I really cannot
spare you much time."

"I will," he said.  Then, pausing for a moment, and making an
unsuccessful attempt to gain possession of her hand, he remarked--

"I think you must have already guessed what it is that I have to say to
you, Lucy.  You cannot be ignorant of the feeling with which I regard
you; you must have discovered long ago that I love you, Lucy, deeply,
passionately, tenderly, as a man loves only once in his lifetime.  We
have not known each other _very_ long, it is true," he continued after a
slight pause, during which he had vainly looked into her downcast face
for some sign of encouragement, "but the time has been long enough for
me to learn that all my hopes of future happiness depend on you; and I
think it has also been long enough to enable you to judge whether you
can entrust your happiness to me or not.  I know I am by no means what I
ought to be,"--here he made another pause, hoping for some word or sign
of disclaimer, which, however, never came--"but I hope you will not
judge me too harshly.  I am an orphan, remember.  Robbed at an early age
of a mother's tender care and gentle training, I have been left pretty
much to the mercy of strangers, who allowed me to grow up to manhood
without an effort to check the development of those evil propensities
which we all alike inherit from our first parents; and then, too, I have
had the misfortune to be thrown--against my will, I honestly assure
you--into evil companionship.  But, in spite of all these disadvantages,
I flatter myself that I am by no means a bad sort of fellow; and if you
will only take me in hand, Lucy, I feel sure you could make a reformed
character of me.  And then, too, consider the society into which I could
introduce you.  Wearing his Majesty's uniform, as I do, I could--"

"Pray say no more, Edward, I beg," interrupted Lucy.  "I am grieved to
be obliged to disappoint you--though I do not think the disappointment
will be very great--but what you ask is quite impossible.  In the first
place I must frankly say that I do not love you; and in the second I
must with equal frankness say that, though I might love ever so much, I
would _never_ marry a man who needed that I should `take him in hand' to
make a reformed character of him.  You are my cousin, and, as such, I
shall always regard you with friendly interest; but I shall never be
able to entertain for you any warmer feeling."

Walford, pale to the lips with surprise and chagrin, looked
incredulously in the face of the fair girl by whose side he was seated.
He was completely staggered.  The idea of his being indifferent to his
cousin had never for a single instant occurred to him.  He had won for
himself the reputation of being quite a "lady-killer;" and now this
little country-bred girl had the impertinence to tell him coolly that
she did not love him; nay, more--to hint pretty strongly that she
regarded him with feelings not very far removed from contempt, because,
forsooth, he had lived a somewhat fast life.  Why, many of the girls he
had met had positively _admired_ him for his rakishness--he did not
pause to consider what manner of girls these were, though, by the bye.
It was monstrous, it was positively insulting.  Then, in addition to the
severe wound to his _amour-propre_, there was the disappointment of his
hopes of pecuniary aggrandisement; Lucy's fortune, modest though it was,
would have been of the utmost service to him.  It was true, he knew,
that she would not have a penny of her own until her mother died, but
that, he was firmly convinced, would not be a very long-postponed event;
the "old fool"--as he called Mrs Walford in his heart--would doubtless
be in her grave long enough before he returned from foreign service--
and, at all events, he was willing to risk that.  But then Lucy had said
she would not have him.  Surely she could not mean it; she was only
saying it to try him, or--stay--was it possible that she loved that
sailor-fellow Leicester?  He would find out.

"Are you _quite sure_, Lucy, that you will never be able to love me?" he
asked, infusing a very successful affectation of passionate entreaty
into the tones of his voice.  "Perhaps I have spoken too quickly; I have
taken you by surprise, I have allowed my impatience to outrun my
judgment; perhaps if I had waited a little longer--"

"It would have been just the same; I could never have loved you,"
interrupted Lucy.  "And now let us return to the house; this interview
has lasted quite long enough.  I am sincerely sorry if you are
disappointed, Edward, but I could never give you any other answer, so
please say no more about it."

"One word more," exclaimed Walford.  "Tell me--I have a right to know--
do you love any one else?"

"I really do not see that you _have_ a right to know anything about my
private affairs," answered Lucy with some hauteur, "but in order that
you may fully understand the hopelessness of your own case, I will
confess that--that there _is_--some one else."

"Ah!" ejaculated Walford between his set teeth, "I suspected as much.
And I can form a pretty shrewd guess as to who it is, too.  It is that
sneaking rascal Leicester, is it not?"

"How dare you, sir, speak to me of my friends in that manner!" exclaimed
Lucy, rising to her feet and stamping upon the ground in the excess of
her indignation.  "Go, sir, and never come near me again; I will never
speak another word to you!"

"You won't, eh?" was the sneering retort.  "All right.  I _will_ go; and
I'll not come near you again.  But I'll make you bitterly repent of your
treatment of me yet, or my name is not Edward Walford."

And rising to his feet, he walked rapidly up the garden, through the
house, and straight out at the front door, without so much as pausing to
bid his aunt good-bye.



CHAPTER TWO.

CAPTAIN LEICESTER HEARS BAD NEWS.

In the meantime, the _Industry_ having come to an anchor in Portsmouth
Harbour, Captain Leicester, waiting only to see the sails properly
furled, jumped into the boat and hurried away to his owner's residence.

Here he was detained for more than an hour, the individual he was
desirous of seeing happening to be absent, "but expected back
immediately," according to the statement of the solitary clerk who
occupied the little front room which did duty as an office.

The owner of the _Industry_ having at length turned up, her captain was
instructed to haul alongside the wharf forthwith, in readiness to begin
discharging her cargo the first thing next morning.  So George
Leicester, greatly to his disappointment, had to return on board once
more; and it was not until the clocks were striking seven that, the
schooner having been duly hauled alongside the wharf and securely moored
thereto, her commander felt himself at liberty to leave her and set out
upon a pilgrimage to Alverstoke.  But for the delay thus occasioned, the
events herein recorded would probably never have occurred, those of them
at least which chiefly concern Captain Leicester.

Let us take a good look at our hero as he stands for a moment in the
golden evening light on the planks of the wooden structure which,
supported by ricketty, worm-eaten piles, does duty as a wharf.  Like a
thorough seaman as he is, he is taking a last glance at the schooner
before he leaves her, to see that everything is thoroughly "ship-shape
and Bristol-fashion" on board her.  She is a small and somewhat
insignificant craft; but as George has sailed in her for the last four
years of his life--two years as mate and two more as master--he has
become attached to her, looking at her faults with a lenient eye, and
striving to conceal them as much as possible from others.  As he stands,
with his hands lightly crossed behind him, his legs a trifle apart, and
his eye wandering critically over the _Industry's_ hull and rigging, we
see him to be a man of about five feet eight inches in height, with a
well-knit figure, regular features, dark hair and eyes, the former
surmounted by a jaunty crimson worsted cap with a silk tassel on its
drooping end, and tied into a queue behind with a bow of very broad
black silk ribbon, short black whiskers on each side of his face, with a
clean-shaven upper lip and chin.  He is clad in a wide-skirted coat of
fine blue cloth, trimmed with large gilt buttons, and worn open to show
the kerseymere waistcoat beneath, the long flaps of which are confined
by a broad belt.  He wears a white silk kerchief round his throat, lace
ruffles at his wrists (in honour of his projected visit to his
lady-love), and his nether man is encased in knee-breeches, white
stockings, and shoes with large silver buckles.  There is a frank,
pleasant look in the keen dark eyes, and an expression of firmness about
the closed lips which makes most people feel, when they look at him,
that they would much rather have him for a friend than for an enemy.
Altogether, as far as _physique_ is concerned, he certainly has the
advantage of Lieutenant Walford.  As to the comparative moral qualities
of the two men, the reader will have abundant opportunity to judge for
him--or her--self.

Unfortunately, however, for his own and Lucy Walford's peace of mind,
George Leicester is not only unaware of this superiority on his own
part, but he strongly suspects it to be all on the other side.  He has
made Walford's acquaintance, having met him, perhaps, some half a dozen
times in all, at "Sea View," and, despite his simplicity, he has had no
difficulty in recognising in the lieutenant a would-be rival.  And this
is just where his own modesty and self-depreciation have played him a
scurvy trick.  He has noted Walford's easy, nonchalant bearing, and his
two or three flashy accomplishments; he has noticed, too, that the
lieutenant is not altogether devoid of good looks, and has jumped--all
too hastily, as we are aware--at the conclusion that, where a woman is
concerned, a plain, straightforward, honest sailor can have no chance
against a dashing soldier like the lieutenant.  At the same time, he has
by no means given up the chase, nor ever will, so he tells himself, as
long as Lucy is free.  Over and over again has he been upon the point of
speaking out and learning his fate, and over and over again has he
hesitated and closed his lips, deeming the occasion unpropitious, or
fearing to learn that which will make the remainder of his life a blank
to him.

But now he has resolved to delay no longer.  He has been screwing up his
courage to the sticking-place during the whole of the passage from
Waterford to Gosport, and when he stepped from the rail of the
_Industry_ on to the wharf, he was on his way to Alverstoke to learn his
fate.

Satisfied at last that everything was right on board the schooner,
Leicester turned away and directed his steps up High Street, and thence
out on to the Stoke Road.  Alverstoke church-clock struck eight just as
he came in sight of it; and the next moment he saw, far ahead of him, a
man dart round the corner and come swinging along the road towards him
at a tremendous pace.  Distant as the man was, Captain Leicester had no
difficulty in recognising in him his dreaded rival, Lieutenant Walford.
He guessed at once that the lieutenant had been visiting at "Sea View;"
but what struck him as strange was that Walford's appearance and bearing
was that of a man in a towering passion.  Almost immediately afterwards,
however, he decided that he must have been mistaken in supposing this,
for as Walford looked up and recognised him he stopped dead in the road
for a moment, and then hurried towards the skipper with outstretched
hand and a beaming face.

"My _dear_ Leicester, how are you?"  Walford exclaimed with effusion, as
he grasped the seaman's hand and wrung it heartily.  "How glad I am to
see you.  When did you arrive?"

"This afternoon only," was the answer.  "Have you been to `Sea View'
lately?  There is nothing wrong there, I hope?"

"Wrong, my dear fellow!  No.  Why do you ask?"

"Well, when you rounded the corner just now you were walking at such a
terrific pace, and looked so much as though you were greatly upset about
something, that I feared there had been an accident at `Sea View,' and
that--"

"That I was hurrying off for the nearest doctor, eh?  Well, you may set
your mind at rest, my dear boy; nothing _is_ the matter.  I have just
left Mrs Walford's, and both she and Lucy are in excellent health, I am
glad to say.  It is deuced kind of you, though, to take such a warm
interest in them, and I thank you for it with all my heart.  You are a
prime favourite there, I can tell you, my lad; I have been frightfully
jealous of you for a long time, but now I shall never be so any more.
Lucy--darling girl that she is--has had pity upon me at last, and has
condescended to set all my fears at rest; so you may congratulate me if
you like."

"Upon her having--accepted you as--as--her future husband?" gasped
Leicester, white to the very lips.

"Exactly; I _knew_ you would be glad to hear it, being an old friend of
hers," was the reply.  "But mum's the word for the present.  Our
regiment is ordered away to the West Indies at once, so Lucy wishes the
engagement to be kept secret until I can return home to claim her.
Well, I must be off; you are going to `Sea View,' I suppose?  Don't
mention our conversation there, please; I should not like Lucy to know
that I have already been prating of the engagement; if she feels
inclined to tell you of it herself, of course that is another thing."

"All right, I'll not say a word about it, you may rest assured,"
answered Leicester, as he suffered his hand to be clasped in farewell;
"in fact, I don't suppose I shall have an opportunity to mention it to
them; I am not going to call there to-night, and I may not have time to
call there at all, as I shall be very busy during the next few days.
I--I am--thinking of giving up the _Industry_ and going--somewhere--
abroad, myself."

"Are you?" ejaculated Walford with great heartiness.  "Well done; I am
glad to hear you say so.  A fellow with your pluck and sinews was never
intended to potter about in a trumpery little coaster.  Well, good-bye."

The two men separated; Walford to chuckle and exult over the complete
success of his suddenly planned ruse, and Leicester, with all hope and
brightness gone out of his face, to saunter despondently along the road
and back to Gosport, by way of Haslar Common, avoiding "Sea View"
altogether.

So Lucy was lost to him!  Well, after all, it was no more than he had
dreaded all along; he had been a fool, and worse than a fool, to suppose
that he, a plain, unpolished seaman, could possibly have a chance of
success when pitted against a fellow like Walford--curse him!  No--no,
not that, he did not mean that; why should he curse the man to whom Lucy
had given her young, fresh love?  Still it was very hard to bear--very
hard; he hoped the fellow would treat her well; if not, let him look to
himself.  But why should not Walford treat her well?  Who could do
otherwise?  Who was there in the whole wide world who could find it in
his heart to be anything but kind and loving and tender to her?  And
yet--Psha!  Who was he--George Leicester--that he should judge another
man?  True, he had heard some very queer stories about this same
Lieutenant Walford, but doubtless they were all fabrications; Lucy was
not the girl to love a man of whom such things could possibly be true.
And as to his (Leicester's) own feelings of distrust and dislike, why
they were after all only the natural outcome of his jealousy, and were
certainly not to be relied upon as indicating faultiness of character in
his successful rival.  Still, argue as he would, he had his doubts, and
he could not dispel them, and--well, it was a hard blow, coming so
suddenly, too; it was difficult to bear it patiently even _now_, and he
had a shrewd suspicion that it would be still more difficult to bear
by-and-by, when he fully realised the extent of his loss.

But it was no use fretting over it; the question was, "What was now to
be done?"  He could not possibly live on the old humdrum life any
longer.  He must have excitement and activity, plenty of both, to keep
his mind occupied, and to prevent his fretting over his disappointment.
"Yes, that was a happy inspiration which had led him to tell Walford he
intended giving up the _Industry_; that must be his first act.  And
after that?  Well, after that he would look about him, and if he could
pick up a tidy little vessel cheap; he would invest his savings in the
purchase of her, sail in his own employ, and try to stifle all vain
regrets by plunging into a more adventurous mode of existence."

So ran George Leicester's thoughts as he made his way back to the
_Industry_.

Meanwhile, Lucy, having given one lover his _conge_ waited with loving
impatience but in vain, for the appearance of the other.

On the following day, the master of the _Industry_ waited upon his
owner, a Mr Winter, and requested his discharge.  Mr Winter was both
surprised and chagrined at the news that he was to lose so well-tried
and faithful a servant as George; but, finding our hero inflexible in
his resolution, he could, of course, do nothing but accede to his
request, which he did at last with a very good grace.

"And now," said Mr Winter, when the accounts had all been gone through
and squared up, "since you are quite determined to go your own wilful
way, I suppose I must do what I can to help you.  You will go to London,
of course, to look out for this ship that you propose to purchase; and I
will give you a letter to a Mr Roberts, a ship-broker and a friend of
mine, who has an office in Great Saint Helen's.  He is pretty sure to
have or to know of something which will suit you; he is a thoroughly
straightforward, honourable man, will do his best to suit you, and will
charge you nothing; the seller is the man who will have to pay him his
commission."

George duly thanked Mr Winter for his kindness, received the letter,
and on the following morning crossed over to Portsmouth, and booked
himself to London on the "Highflyer" coach.

The next day found our hero at an early hour in Leadenhall Street,
seeking for the whereabouts of Great Saint Helen's.  A clerk, going in
that direction on his way to business, pointed out the place, and,
turning into the narrow court, George soon found the office of which he
was in search.

Mr Roberts was busy perusing a large pile of papers when his visitor
was shown in, and he begged to be excused for a moment whilst he
completed his task.  This was soon done, whereupon Mr Roberts rang two
distinct strokes upon a small hand-bell, and a clerk entered in
response.

"Here, Wilson," said the ship-broker, handing over the pile of papers,
"take these.  You will find from the notes I have jotted down upon this
sheet of paper what to do with them.  Now, sir," turning to George,
"what can I have the pleasure of doing for you?"

George briefly explained his business, and handed over Mr Winter's
letter of introduction, which Mr Roberts rapidly glanced through.  Then
the little bell was struck once, and another and much more
substantial-looking clerk made his appearance.

"Bring me List A, if you please," said Mr Roberts.

"List A," a large leather-bound volume, was brought in and laid upon the
table before the ship-broker, who at once opened it, and began to run
his fingers slowly down an index.  Then he rapidly turned up an entry in
the book itself, and read out--

"`_Challenger_--brig; 450 tons; softwood built, iron-fastened, sheathed
with zinc; nine years old; well found in sails, ground-tackle, and all
necessary stores, ready for sea.  Price 1800 pounds.'  How will that do?
She is really a very decent vessel of her kind, and exceedingly cheap
at the price."

"We might take a look at her," remarked George, "but her description
does not sound very inviting."

Another reference to the index, another turning up of an entry, and--

"Well, what do you think of this?  `_Lucy_--brigantine; 520 tons;
oak-built, coppered, and copper-fastened throughout; has only been to
sea twice; excellent sea-boat, very fast and weatherly; fully found in
every respect, and quite ready for sea.  Price 2500 pounds.'"

"That sounds very much better," answered Leicester, who, to tell the
truth, was almost as much taken with the name as anything else; "but I
don't particularly admire the rig."

"Umph!" ejaculated Mr Roberts, pursing up his lips and referring to the
index once more.  "Um, um, _Maid of the Mist_--_Lizzie_--_Highland
Lass_--_Enterprise_--ah! yes; perhaps this will do.  `_Enterprise_--
brig; seven years old, oak-built, iron-fastened, 350 tons register, will
carry 600 tons dead-weight; well found.  Price 2200 pounds.  Requires a
few trifling repairs amounting to possibly 500 pounds.'  How does that
strike you?"

"Not very favourably," was the reply.

"Well, let's try again," remarked the ship-broker.  "I _know_ I can suit
you."

Another reference to the index, then a sudden sharp closing of the book,
with the muttered ejaculation, "The very thing!  What a donkey I am not
to have thought of her before."

Then a single stroke on the bell, followed by the reappearance of the
substantial-looking clerk.

"Bring me in the inventory of the _Aurora_, if you please; that paper
that was left here by Mr Sutton yesterday."

The document was brought in, and Mr Roberts at once handed it over to
his client with the remark--

"There, my dear sir, just run your eye over that; if the _Aurora_ won't
suit you, _nothing_ will.  She is a capital little ship; I know her
well.  Her owner, poor fellow--who is captain of her also--had the
misfortune to lose his wife last voyage--washed overboard somehow in a
gale of wind--and it has so upset him that he has resolved to cut the
sea altogether and everything connected with it.  He is even willing to
sell at a great sacrifice, so as to get rid of the ship as soon as
possible.  Great bargain, captain; most extraordinary bargain; never get
another such a chance."

"That looks much more promising," said George, returning the paper.
"Where is she, and when can I see her?"

"London Docks--see her in an hour--I'll take you down on board at once,"
was the reply.

And merely stopping to change his coat, and give some instructions to
his clerks, Mr Roberts invited George to follow him; and, getting into
the street, they hailed the first hackney-coach which passed, and in a
few minutes were jolting along on their way to the London Docks.

Dismissing the coach at the dock gates, Mr Roberts inquired of the
gate-keeper where the _Aurora_ was to be found.

"Inside ship, fourth berth, north side," answered the man, pointing out
the direction they were to take.

They soon found the vessel, and George, standing on the edge of the dock
wall, saw before him a pretty little barque of some four hundred and odd
tons, copper-bottomed, with a flush deck fore and aft, a fine set of
spars, and such a shapely hull as set his eyes glistening.  He walked
away from her and knelt down so as to take a good look at her "run;"
then went ahead of her to see what her bows were like; and finally, very
much prepossessed in her favour already, went on board, accompanied by
Mr Roberts.

Here they were received by the ship-keeper, who at once led the way into
the cabin.  This proved to be an exceedingly snug and comfortable
apartment, not very large, yet roomy enough, and very tastefully fitted
up.  Abaft this they found the captain's cabin, a room some twelve feet
long, and the entire width of the ship, well lighted--there being both a
skylight and stern-ports--and fitted up in a style which gave
unmistakable evidence of the refined taste of the former captain's poor
drowned wife.  From the cabin they proceeded to the forecastle, and from
thence into the hold, George all the time peering about everywhere for
signs of weakness or bad workmanship, without finding any.  Having at
length satisfied himself as to the soundness of the hull, he went aloft
and gave to the spars and rigging a careful examination.  Here, too,
everything was perfectly satisfactory; and when he at length stepped
down out of the rigging on to the deck, he nodded approvingly to Mr
Roberts and said--

"All right; I'll take her."

"Glad to hear you say so, captain," was the cheery reply; "she is a
capital little craft, and I'm sure you'll like her.  Now--as it is
nearly two o'clock--what say you, will you come and take dinner with
me?"

Leicester acquiescing, they made the best of their way to the
eating-house which Mr Roberts patronised, and, while discussing the
meal, made arrangements for the completion of the purchase.

The meal ended, George wended his way back toward the dock, and, turning
into Nightingale Lane, established himself in tolerably comfortable
quarters in a boarding-house kept by a widow, whose husband had been
what she called a "sea-captain."

On the following day Captain Leicester paid over the full amount of the
purchase-money, receiving in return the ship's register properly
endorsed; and that same evening he found himself the undisputed owner of
the _Aurora_.

His next task was to secure a freight.  This he had no difficulty in
doing--in fact he had his choice of some half a dozen--and by noon he
had accepted a charter for the conveyance of a general cargo to
Kingston, Jamaica; to commence loading at once.  Having completed the
business, he hurried away to the shipping-office, and was fortunate
enough to secure the services of a very promising-looking mate, who
undertook to establish himself on board forthwith, so as to be on the
spot in readiness to receive the cargo as it came down to the ship.

George now found himself comparatively at leisure, and he had at one
time serious thoughts of running down to Gosport, were it only for a
day, just to see Lucy once more, and bid her good-bye.  Well would it
have been for both of them had he done so.  But on reconsidering the
matter, he arrived at the conclusion that no good could possibly come of
any such proceeding, whilst the sight of Lucy would only too certainly
increase the pangs of regret he already so keenly felt at his failure to
win her; so he eventually decided to remain where he was, and occupy
himself in watching the stowage of the cargo.



CHAPTER THREE.

A CAPTURE AND A RECAPTURE.

A fortnight from the day on which Captain Leicester signed the
charter-party saw the last package passed into the _Aurora's_ hold, and
on the following day she sailed for Plymouth, there to join a fleet of
merchant-ships which were to cross the Atlantic under convoy.

Thanks principally to the exertions of his chief mate, Mr Bowen, George
was fortunate enough to pick up a very good crew, comprising a second
mate--who acted also as boatswain--a carpenter, a steward, a black cook,
two able-seamen, four ordinary ditto, and two well-grown lads, who had
already been a voyage or two in a coaster.  This constituted a
complement of fourteen men, all told; just sufficient to handle the
barque comfortably.

They sailed from the Thames with the wind at about west, and had a
capital run as far as the South Foreland, the _Aurora_ showing herself
to be such a smart vessel under her canvas that her commander was
delighted with her.

At this point, however, the wind, which still held from the westward,
was dead against them, and it became a question whether they should
anchor in the Downs to await a favourable change, or continue on and
endeavour to beat a passage as far as Plymouth.  Prudence dictated the
adoption of the former course; it being well known that the Channel was
just then swarming with French privateers--powerful luggers for the most
part--the captains of which had an unpleasant habit of slipping out of
harbour as the evening came on, and stretching across toward the English
coast, on the lookout for our merchantmen, very often picking up a
valuable prize and getting back into port the next morning.  The
weather, too, happened just then to be highly favourable for the
operations of these gentry, the sky being overcast with frequent
showers, and no moon.

On the other hand, however, time was of the utmost importance; George
had only five days left him in which to reach Plymouth, if he was to
avail himself of the protection of convoy; so, after discussing the
question with Mr Bowen, and carefully weighing it in his own mind, he
finally decided to keep the ship moving, and to trust to fortune and a
good lookout.

The _Aurora_ accordingly proceeded, stretching over as far as
mid-channel, when she went about; and on drawing in with the land again
Leicester had the satisfaction of seeing that she would handsomely
weather Beachy Head, which she did, tacking close in under the land
about breakfast-time on the day following her departure from London.  At
2 p.m., being at the time rather nearer to the French than to the
English coast, George tacked again, in order to close the English shore
toward nightfall.

At 9 p.m., being abreast of Littlehampton, and about eight miles off the
shore, the _Aurora_ went about once more, and stood over towards France,
close-hauled on the starboard tack.

The weather had cleared somewhat, the sun breaking through the clouds as
the afternoon wore on, and flooding the whole western sky with splendour
as he sank to rest.  One by one, as the golden glory of the west faded
into sober grey, the stars shone out, peeping shyly down upon the world
from the softly dappled sky, and there was every prospect of its being a
fine night in the Channel.  George accordingly gave instructions for the
ship to continue on the same tack until midnight, when she was to be
hove about once more.  Then, cautioning the second mate--who was in
charge of the deck--to maintain a strict lookout and to call him in the
event of a change of weather or the appearance of a suspicious-looking
sail in their neighbourhood, he went below to snatch an hour or two of
sleep, having had none so far from the moment of the vessel's sailing.

Flinging off his clothes, he threw himself into his swinging cot, and
instantly sank into a sound and dreamless slumber; to be awakened again
with a start, and almost instantly, as it seemed to him, by the flapping
of the ship's canvas in the wind.

Starting up into a sitting posture, he heard the voice of the chief mate
on deck giving the necessary orders for tacking ship.

"Hillo!" he thought, "what is the meaning of this?  Nothing wrong, I
hope.  No, that cannot be, or they would surely have called me.  Perhaps
it is a change of wind; I hope it is.  Well, being awake, I may as well
slip on deck and satisfy myself as to the meaning of it."

He accordingly sprang out of his cot, and began to dress himself; the
sounds on deck having meanwhile ceased, save for the monotonous tread
overhead of the officer of the watch, and the occasional clank of the
wheel-chains.  The ship was heeling over to starboard, showing that she
was on the port tack, and the rushing sound of the water along her sides
seemed to indicate that she was moving pretty rapidly through it.

As he opened his state-room door to pass into the main cabin, a heavy
step was heard descending the companion-ladder, and the next moment the
second mate appeared at its foot, in the act of turning into his own
state-room.

"Well, Mr Cross," said the skipper, "what is the news from the deck?
You have tacked ship, it seems; is there a change of wind?"

"No, sir," answered Cross; "the wind still holds steady at about west,
though it seems a little inclined to back half a point or so to the
south'ard, and it's clouded over again and gone very dark.  We tacked at
midnight, sir, according to your orders."

"Midnight!" ejaculated George; "you surely do not mean to say it is
midnight already, Cross?"

"About a quarter after it, sir," answered the second mate with a smile.
"You've slept sound, sir, I expect; and time has travelled fast with
you."

"I must have slept sound indeed," answered the skipper; "to me it seemed
that I had hardly fallen asleep when I was awakened by the flapping of
the canvas.  Well, I'll not keep you from your bunk; I shall go on deck
and take a look round before I turn in again.  Good-night."

"Good-night, sir," was the reply; and the second mate opened the door of
his berth and passed in, whilst George sprang lightly up the
companion-ladder and stepped out on deck.

It was indeed, as the second mate had said, very dark; so much so that
the skipper, having just left the cabin, where a lamp was dimly burning,
was unable to see anything for a moment or two.  Then, as his eyes grew
accustomed to the darkness, he caught first a glimpse of the man at the
wheel, his form faintly illuminated by the binnacle light, then the
figure of the mate, just turning near the taffrail to walk forward, and
finally the dark, shadowy pile of canvas towering away aloft until it
melted into the general obscurity.

"It has gone very dark again, Mr Bowen," remarked the skipper, as the
mate, becoming aware of George's presence on deck, joined him.

"It _is_ dark, sir," answered the mate, "almost too dark to be poking
about here in the Channel without lights."

"It is rather risky, I admit," returned George; "still, I do not think
it is so dangerous as showing our lights; that would simply be hanging
out an invitation to those prowling French privateers to pounce down on
us.  How is her head?"--to the man at the wheel, George and the mate
having by this time strolled aft together.

"No'th, half west, sir," was the reply.

"Come, that is not so bad," remarked George.  "We shall fetch Plymouth
yet in good time to join the convoy if all be--"

"A sail broad on the weather bow!" broke in the lookout forward, with
startling abruptness.

Both George and the mate instantly directed their gaze in the direction
indicated by the lookout; and presently a shapeless something like a
blacker patch against the black background of the darkness loomed into
view, about one point before the beam, showing by this rapid change in
the respective positions of the two ships how near was the stranger.

"Why!" exclaimed Leicester, "he is coming right down for us; he will be
into us.  Port, port hard; up with your helm smartly, my lad," to the
man at the wheel.  "Ship ahoy!  Port your helm; can you not see us?"

"Ay, ay; oh, yesh," was the response from the other vessel; and as it
came floating down upon the wind the stranger took a broad sheer to
port, showing herself to be a large lugger, and shot very neatly
alongside the _Aurora_, the grappling-irons being cleverly hove into the
barque's fore and main-rigging, as the two vessels touched.

At the same moment some five-and-twenty Frenchmen, armed with cutlass
and pistol, scrambled alertly in over the _Aurora's_ bulwarks, the
leader singling out George, notwithstanding the darkness, and
exclaiming, as he promptly presented a pistol at his head--

"Vat cheep dis is, eh?"

"The _Aurora_, of London," was the answer, "Tres bien!  My cheep, the
_Belle Marie_, est un corsaire Francais, un--vat you call--privateere,
et vous etes mes prisonniers.  It is ze fortune of war, messieurs; my
turn to-night--yours to-morrow, perhaps--ha, ha!  Now, my dear sares, as
there not moosh time is, permettez moi," and he flung open the
companion-doors, motioning significantly to George and the mate to go
below.

Poor George glanced swiftly round the deck, only to see that it was in
complete possession of the Frenchmen, one of whom was already at the
wheel.  So, turning to Mr Bowen, and murmuring, "There is no help for
it, I suppose," he signed to the mate to lead the way, and then
followed, dejectedly, the doors being smartly slammed-to after them, and
the next moment they heard the sound of some heavy body being dragged up
to and banged against the companion entrance, thus precluding the
possibility of their stealing on deck again, and effecting a counter
surprise.

The whole thing had been done so rapidly that it was not until he found
the ship being once more hove about, with her head pointing toward the
French coast, that Captain Leicester fully realised his situation.  In
less than ten minutes his ship had been taken from him, and himself
confined in his own cabin, a prisoner.  Had he not been on deck at the
time of the occurrence, he would certainly have considered it an
avoidable misfortune, to be accounted for only by the most gross
carelessness; but as it was, he was fully able to understand that it was
entirely due to the extreme darkness of the night, and the circumstance
of the lugger and the barque stumbling over each other, as it were.  But
that made matters no better for him; he had lost his ship--his all--and
now there loomed before him the immediate prospect of a dreary
confinement--for many years perhaps--in a French prison.  The thought
goaded him almost to madness, and he sprang impatiently to his feet, and
began to pace moodily to and fro over the narrow limits of the cabin
floor.

Meanwhile the second mate--who had started out of his berth at the first
shock of contact between the two vessels, and had made a rush for the
deck, only to be confronted and driven back by a Frenchman with a drawn
cutlass--was seated on the lockers alongside Mr Bowen, listening to
that individual's gloomy recital of the details of the capture.

The low murmur of the two men's voices annoyed George in his then
irritable frame of mind, and, to avoid it, he retired into his own
state-room.  The night being close and sultry, all the stern-ports were
open, and as he entered the cabin the sound of a hail from to leeward
came floating in through the ports.  It was answered from the deck, and,
kneeling upon the sofa-locker and thrusting his body well out of the
port, the skipper became aware that the lugger was parting company, and
that the hail he had heard was the voice of the French captain shouting
his parting instructions to the officer he had left in charge of the
prize.  Looking away to leeward, in the direction from which the sounds
had come, he was just able to distinguish the dark outline of the
lugger, as she bore up and pursued her _way once more to_ the eastward.
After this a considerable amount of excited jabbering took place on
deck, the word "Cherbourg" being so often repeated that George had no
doubt it was to that port that the barque was to be taken; but in about
half an hour all this died away, and perfect silence reigned on board
once more.

From the moment that the lugger parted company a confused idea as to the
possibility of retaking the barque had been gradually attaining definite
shape in George's mind.  It was rather a desperate attempt to make, it
is true, with himself and the two mates shut up there in the cabin aft,
while the crew were doubtless confined in the forecastle, and with no
possibility of effecting a junction with them.  Still, if Bowen and
Cross were willing to run the risk of assisting him, it might be worth
while to try it.

Thinking thus, he drew his head inside the stern-port, and made his way
back into the main cabin, where he found the two mates, with their arms
crossed upon their chests, and their heads bowed upon their breasts,
asleep.

Giving them a gentle shake apiece, to arouse them, he sat down beside
them and asked them bluntly if they felt disposed to run a little risk
in an attempt to retake the barque, and so avoid a French prison.

"You may reckon on me for one, sir, if you've hit upon anything likely
in the shape of a plan," heartily answered the chief mate; "and Cross
here, I know, won't hold back either, unless I'm greatly mistaken in
him."

"Never fear," said Cross; "if you give the word, sir, and the ship is to
be retook, we'll have her.  But how do you propose to do it?--it'll have
to be a surprise, I s'pose?"

"Listen," said George.  "What I propose is this.  The stern-ports are
all open; and I believe that, by assisting each other, we may manage to
creep out through them on to the main-brace boom-iron, and thence make
our way along the ship's side, _outside_ the bulwarks, forward, when, by
watching our opportunity, we may possibly manage to overpower the guard
on the forecastle, throw off the hatch, and release our own lads, and
then we must just make a fight for it.  We may perhaps--we three--manage
to take along with us a cutlass and a brace of pistols each; but the men
must do the best they can with hand-spikes, belaying-pins, and, in
short, anything they can lay their hands upon."

"A very promising plan indeed, sir," answered the chief mate.  "The next
question is, when are we to set about it?"

"The sooner the better," answered George; "so go at once, please, for
your pistols; load them carefully; take a cutlass each from the rack;
and then we will proceed to business."

In a very _few_ minutes the trio were ready.  Going softly into George's
state-room, they paused for a minute or two to listen for any sounds
which might furnish them with a clue to the condition of affairs on
deck; but nothing was to be heard, save the occasional clank of the
wheel-chains, and the low humming of a song by the helmsman.

"It is all curiously quiet on deck," whispered George to his two
companions; "I can't quite make it out; it undoubtedly means one of two
things, however--either they are keeping a very strict and careful
watch, or none at all; we shall soon see which.  Now, Cross, stand by to
give me a hoist, if I seem to require it; I will go first, and as soon
as I am fairly out of the way, Mr Bowen can follow."

Kicking off his boots and stockings, the skipper thereupon, without
further ado, mounted the lockers, and passing his body cautiously out of
the weathermost stern-port, held on by the edge of the port with one
hand, whilst he reached out and felt for the brace-iron with the other.
This he soon found, and grasping it firmly with his right hand, began to
work himself cautiously towards it.  The task he had set himself proved,
however, to be much more difficult than he had expected; the rake of the
ship's stern so greatly interfering with his freedom of motion that at
first he feared he would be obliged to abandon the attempt altogether,
as he foresaw that, the moment he released his hold upon the edge of the
port, he must infallibly swing off backwards, and, unless he could
manage to retain his grasp of the iron, drop overboard.  So he slipped
in through the port again, to explain this difficulty to the mates, and
to caution them to be careful when it came to their turn, and then
resumed his attempt.

Once more securing a firm grasp upon the brace-iron, he watched the roll
of the ship, and, seizing the first favourable opportunity, boldly swung
himself off into the air, where he hung suspended by one arm, with his
feet almost touching the water.  In another moment he had both hands
upon the iron, and, giving himself a vigorous upward swing, he was soon
able to throw his feet over the tautly-strained main-brace.  To scramble
up and place himself astride the brace-block was now an easy task, and,
settling himself firmly there, he prepared to assist the chief mate,
when he should make his appearance.

He had not long to wait.  Hardly was he comfortably established in his
comparatively safe position, when a hand appeared from behind the
quarter-piece in search of the iron.  George promptly seized and guided
it to the object of its search, then firmly grasped the wrist with one
hand, keeping the other ready to render further assistance.

"Look out, sir, I'm coming," he heard the chief mate mutter, and then,
with a tremendous swing, Mr Bowen's body came into view.  Quick as
thought George leaned over and caught the disengaged hand, placed it too
upon the iron, and then, rising to his feet and exerting his strength to
the utmost, he proceeded to drag his chief mate up alongside himself.

"Now," he whispered, as soon as he had got him there, "I shall begin to
work my way forward at once, so as to be out of your way; but you had
better stay and lend Cross a hand.  I shall wait for you both in the
fore-chains."

So saying, he stepped off the brace-iron, planting his feet firmly on
the broad beading which ran along the top edge of the sheer-strake, and
leaning his body against the bulwarks, whilst he grasped the outer edge
of the rail to steady himself, he speedily and easily reached the
mizzen-chains.

Here, availing himself of the partial shelter and cover afforded by the
lanyards and dead-eyes of the rigging, he cautiously raised his head
above the level of the bulwarks, to survey the state of the deck
inboard.  The first object which met his view was the figure of the
helmsman, rendered visible by the light of the binnacle-lamps as they
beamed dimly out upon him and feebly lighted up his figure.  He was
leaning negligently against the wheel, with one arm thrown carelessly
over it, and his eyes were vacantly fixed upon the cloudy heavens above
him, with his thoughts evidently far away.  Not another soul was
visible, either forward or aft; but George thought he could make out the
indistinct outline of something resembling a human figure seated on the
bench to windward of the cabin companion.  He continued so long his
earnest gaze upon this object that he was quite startled to find his
first and second mates beside him; and he came at last to the conclusion
that, if it were indeed a human figure at all, it must be that of the
prize-master--sound asleep.

Turning his glances from this object forward, he saw that the
galley-door to windward was shut, whilst on the lee-side it was open,
the reflection of a light inside shining pretty strongly upon the lee
bulwarks and showing the shadows of men evidently in the act of eating
and drinking.

"Do you see that?" whispered George to his two companions.  "Nothing
could possibly be more favourable to our plans.  We will work our way
forward as far as the main-rigging, when, I think, we may venture to
slip over the bulwarks, and in on deck.  Then we must creep very
cautiously forward, find out the whereabouts of the watchman, or
lookout, or whatever he is, and overpower him, if possible, without
raising an alarm.  That done, we will set free our own lads, and I have
no fear whatever as to the result."

The three adventurers then moved noiselessly forward until they came to
the main-rigging, when they slipped in on deck, and, crouching low in
the deep shadow of the weather bulwarks, crept along until they were
within a dozen feet of the fore-scuttle.  Here they paused, and began to
peer anxiously about for the man they expected to find on watch on the
forecastle.

"There he is, just forward of the cat-head," whispered the second mate;
and hastily snatching a heavy iron belaying-pin from the rail, he stole,
crouching and noiseless as a cat, upon his unconscious enemy.  Six
seconds later a dull heavy blow was heard, followed by a faint groan,
the dark object near the cat-head vanished, and Cross, returning to the
skipper's side, whispered--

"_He's_ all right; knocked the senses clean out of him, and then laid
him quietly out on deck.  I reckon he won't come to hisself again for
the next half-hour.  Now, what's the next move, cap'n?"

"The next thing," answered George, "is to open the fore-scuttle, and
quietly get our own lads on deck.  I am surprised that they have not
attempted to steal up of their own accord before this."

On going to the forecastle hatch, however, they soon discovered the
reason why the men were content to remain so quietly below, a large
mooring hawser having been coiled down on the top of the hatch, thus
effectually preventing the imprisoned men from raising it.

"We shall never be able to move this without giving the alarm," said
George.  "We must contrive somehow to shut those fellows up in the
galley, and keep them there."

"That is easily done," whispered the chief mate.  "`Cookey' has a lot of
firewood stowed away in the eyes of the long-boat; we must get hold of a
piece, cut half a dozen wedges from it, and one of us must then slide-to
the door on the lee-side, and wedge it tight with three of the wedges,
whilst another of us at the same time wedges up the door to windward."

He then glided away to the long-boat, and soon returned with a small
piece of wood in his hand.

"Here we are," he whispered; "now we'll soon have them boxed up so tight
that they won't get out until we open the doors for 'em."

Whilst speaking he had produced his knife from his pocket, and,
notwithstanding the intense darkness, soon hacked out the half-dozen
wedges, which, though very roughly shaped, were still good enough for
the purpose.

"Now, sir," said he in a low tone to George, "you take these three, let
Cross go with you and slide-to the lee-door with a slam, and then you
slip in the wedges and jam them tight home, while I will do the same to
wind'ard, as soon as I hear Cross close the lee-door."

George took the wedges, and, accompanied by Cross crept noiselessly up
to the galley-door to leeward, Mr Bowen meanwhile making his way to the
corresponding door on the weather side.  There was a loud slam, a moment
of silence, then a tremendous outcry, accompanied by the sound of heavy
battering from inside the galley, and the three adventurers met again at
the forecastle hatch.

"Now, then," cried George, "we haven't a moment to lose, so let us
capsize the hawser bodily.  Are you ready?  Then, one--two--three,
Heave!"

By exerting their whole strength to the utmost the heavy hawser was
rolled off the hatch, and the hatch itself raised, just as two figures
came rushing forward from the quarterdeck with loud and angry outcries.

"Tumble up, my lads!" shouted George down the scuttle; "tumble up
smartly, and help us to retake the ship."

"Ay, ay, sir," was the eager answer from below, and then the skipper,
drawing his cutlass and pistol, turned to meet the prize-master and the
helmsman, who had both hurried forward to learn the meaning of the
disturbance in the galley.

"Surrender, or you are a dead man!" exclaimed George, thrusting the
muzzle of his pistol into the face of the as yet only half-awake
prize-master.

"Oui, oui, m'sieu; oh, yais, I surrendaire," exclaimed the poor fellow,
as he felt the firm pressure of the cold pistol-barrel against his
forehead; and hastily unbuckling his cutlass, he thrust it into George's
hand.

The chief mate, in the meantime, had incontinently felled the other man
to the deck with a single blow from his fist, and had then left Cross to
secure him with a rope's end.  The barque's crew had meanwhile made
their way on deck, and were now clustered about their officers, anxious
to know what they were to do, whilst the _Aurora_, left to herself, had
shot up into the wind's eye, and was now lying stationary, with all her
square canvas aback, and the rest of her sails fluttering loudly in the
wind.

"One hand to the wheel, and jam it hard up," commanded George; "the rest
of you to your stations.  Mr Bowen and Mr Cross, you will mount guard
over the galley-doors, if you please, until we have got the ship round.
Raise tacks and sheets, round with the main-yard, and flatten in
forward.  Well, there, with the main-braces.  Now swing your fore-yard,
board the fore and main-tacks, and haul over the head-sheets.  Right
your helm, my lad; give her a spoke or two, if _you find_ she wants it,
as she gathers way, and then keep her `full and by.'  Now, lads, never
mind about coiling up just now; you can do that after we have attended
to the prisoners; come forward and open the weather galley-door, and as
the Frenchmen pass out, seize them and lash their hands and heels
together."

These orders were promptly executed, the discomfited Frenchmen being
permitted to pass out of the galley only one at a time.  Cross's burly
form, drawn cutlass and conspicuously displayed pistol, supported by the
appearance of the barque's crew in his immediate background, proving an
effectual deterrent to any attempt on the part of the privateersmen to
make a rush for freedom, and in something like a couple of hours from
the time of her capture, the _Aurora_, was once more in the undisputed
possession of her rightful owner.



CHAPTER FOUR.

THE DEPARTURE OF THE CONVOY.

About daybreak the wind veered round and blew a fine, fresh, steady
breeze from the northward, enabling the barque to lay her course with
flowing sheets; and sunset found her safely anchored in Plymouth Sound,
one of a fleet of nearly two hundred merchantmen, which had assembled
there for the purpose of being convoyed across the Atlantic.

The convoy was to sail on the following day but one; the men-o'-war
which constituted their escort were already in the Sound, along with
several other ships of the royal navy; and as the cable smoked out
through the _Aurora's_ hawse-pipe that evening, when she dropped her
anchor, George fondly hoped his troubles were at an end.

But he was mistaken.

As soon as the canvas was furled, Captain Leicester manned a boat, and,
proceeding on board the admiral's ship reported the circumstance of the
capture and recapture of his vessel, requesting at the same time to be
relieved as soon as possible of the custody of his prisoners.  This was
speedily arranged.  By the admiral's orders an armed boat's crew was at
once despatched to the _Aurora_, the prisoners were released from their
bonds, passed into the man-o'-war's boat, and in little more than an
hour from their arrival in the Sound safely lodged on board a
prison-hulk.

So far, so good.  But George had yet to learn that there was one
inconvenient result generally attendant upon a request to a man-o'-war
for assistance.  The boat, after conveying the Frenchmen to the
prison-hulk, duly returned to the admiral's ship; but, instead of the
crew at once passing out of her, they were ordered to remain where they
were, the lieutenant in charge alone going on deck and holding a short
conference with the captain, after which he re-entered the boat, and she
proceeded once more alongside the _Aurora_.

George saw her coming, and wondered what could possibly be her errand.
He was not left long in doubt.

"I am very sorry to trouble you," remarked the lieutenant, as he
encountered George at the gangway, whither the latter had repaired to
meet him, "but I must ask you to kindly muster your men."

George knew only too well then what this visit boded, but he was quite
helpless; so, putting the best face he could upon the matter, he
answered as cheerfully as he could, and directed that all hands should
be summoned on deck.

"I hope, however," he remarked to the officer, "that you will not
deprive me of any of my crew.  I have shipped only just sufficient men
to handle her, and I assure you that even with the fine weather we have
had in our trip down Channel I have found that we have not a hand too
many for the efficient management of the ship."

"Ah, yes," answered the lieutenant with a laugh; "all you
merchant-skippers tell the same story; but we shall see--we shall see.
They must be exceptionally good men, however, or you would never have
succeeded in recovering possession of your ship.  Ah! here they are, and
a fine smart crew they look, too.  Upon my word I must congratulate you,
Mr--a--um--a, upon your good luck in securing so many fine fellows;
why, they look capable of taking care of a ship twice your size.  I
really _must_ relieve you of one or two of them; it would be nothing
short of treason to his most gracious Majesty to allow you to keep them
all, when the navy is in such urgent want of men."

The crew were by this time assembled on deck, and a very disconcerted
and disgusted-looking set of men they were; they had submitted to weeks
of voluntary imprisonment in crimps' houses for the sole purpose of
escaping impressment into the navy, and now, when their voyage had
actually begun, here was a man-o'-war's boat alongside, to force them
into the service they regarded with so great an abhorrence.  No wonder
that they looked and felt disgusted.

The men were drawn up in line along the deck, in single file, and the
lieutenant sauntered leisurely along the line, critically examining each
man as he came to him, but without, as George had anticipated, ordering
any of them into the boat alongside.  At length he reached the last
individual in the line, one of the lads, and Leicester was beginning to
breathe freely once more, hoping that he was, after all, not to be
robbed of any of his crew, when the officer returned to the head of the
line, and, touching the second mate lightly on the chest with his
finger, said--

"You were evidently born to become a man-o'-war's man, my fine fellow;
get your traps together and pass them and yourself into the boat
alongside as soon as you have received your wages."

"Excuse me," said George, "I really must ask you not to take that man;
he is my second mate."

"Your second mate!" exclaimed the officer with well-feigned
astonishment.  "You surely do not mean to say you carry a second mate on
board such a cock-boat as this?"

"Certainly I do," retorted George somewhat tartly; "why not, pray?"

"Simply, my good man, because such an individual is wholly unnecessary.
You can take charge of one watch, yourself, you know, and your mate will
of course command the other, so that you can have no possible use for a
second mate.  Why, a smart, active young fellow like you ought to be
ashamed of such an act of laziness as the carrying of a second mate.
Pay the man his wages, if you please, and let him pass into the boat."

"I owe him no wages," answered George; "on the contrary, he--and every
other man of the crew, for that matter--has drawn a month's advance, and
owes me three weeks' service yet before we shall be square.  Who is to
reimburse me for that loss?"

"I am sorry to say I am quite unable to answer that question," was the
reply; "but, giving it--mind you, strictly as my private opinion--I am
afraid you will have to suffer the loss.  For my part I have never been
able to understand why you masters of merchantmen _will_ persist in so
risky a policy as the payment of a month's wages in advance, when you
can never tell what may occur to prevent the men from working out their
time.  But this is not business; I must bear a hand and finish my work,
or I shall get severely rapped over the knuckles."

Then, turning once more to the men, he ordered the carpenter to get his
things ready, and go into the boat.

"No," said George, by this time thoroughly exasperated, "_that_ I will
_not_ permit.  This man is the ship's carpenter, and I forbid you, sir,
to impress him at your peril."

"You _forbid_, eh?" said the lieutenant, turning angrily upon George.
"Take care what you are saying, my fine fellow, or I may perhaps find
ways and means of impressing _you_ before you sail."

Then, suddenly realising that he had allowed his temper to outrun his
discretion, he added in a conciliatory tone--

"Well, since you say that this man is the carpenter, I will spare him;
but you should have explained that fact to me at first; and as to
impressing _you_, why, I daresay you know the old joke about impressing
a ship-master, and will understand I was only jesting; you are a capital
fellow, and have behaved very well over this business, so I will let you
off as easily as I can.  But of course I must do my duty and take
another man or two from you; if I did not, some of the other ships would
be sending on board you and leaving you really short-handed."

With that he picked out with unerring eye the two able-seamen, and then,
turning to George with a great show of generous forbearance, announced
that he would leave him all the rest, though he could hardly reconcile
it to his conscience to _go away_ with only three men out of so strong
and smart a crew as that belonging to the _Aurora_.

Cross was by this time with his chest on deck; the other two impressed
men soon followed, and the disconsolate trio passed down the ship's side
in moody silence, unmoved alike by the commiserating looks of their late
shipmates or the jocular and more than half-ironical congratulations of
the man-o'-war's men in the boat upon their entry into so promising a
service as that of the British navy.

On the departure of the boat, George held a short consultation with Mr
Bowen, the result of which was a very wise determination to "grin and
bear it," rather than risk fresh annoyance by an effort--which he very
strongly suspected would be utterly useless--to obtain redress and the
restitution of his men.  This determination come to, the carpenter was
summoned aft, and installed into the duties and the berth of the
unfortunate Cross; George thus finding his crew reduced to three men,
the officers included, and one lad in each watch, the cook and steward
of course being "idlers," and their services in the working of the ship
only to be demanded on occasions of exceptional urgency.

On the day but one following that of the impressment of the _Aurora's_
men, a gun was fired at sunrise by the commodore, blue-peter was hoisted
at the fore-royal-mastheads, and the fore-topsails were loosed on board
the ships of the convoying squadron, and the still morning air
immediately began to resound with the songs of seamen and the clanking
of windlass-pawls, as the fleet of merchantmen constituting the convoy
began to get under weigh.  There was a considerable amount of emulation
displayed among the merchant-skippers--those of them, at least, whose
ships or crews had any pretensions to smartness, and in half an hour a
good many of the craft were under weigh and standing out to sea with a
light air of wind from the eastward.  The old _Tremendous_, 74, led the
van, closely followed by the _Torpid_, 50; while the frigates
_Andromeda_ and _Vixen_, each of 32 guns, assisted by the _Dasher_,
_Grampus_, _Throstle_, and _Mallard_, 10-gun-brigs, cruised round and
round the laggards, making signals, firing guns, and generally creating
a great deal of fuss, noise, and excitement.  The leading portion of the
fleet was hove-to, hull-down, at sea, before the last craft in the
convoy had succeeded in getting her anchor and making a start; but by
noon the whole of the fleet was fairly in the Channel, when the
_Tremendous_ made the signal to fill, and away they all went, bowling
along to the southward and westward, the dull sailers under every rag
they could spread to the wind--now settled into a fine steady
royal-breeze from east-south-east, while the smarter craft were
compelled to show only such a spread of canvas as would enable the
dullards to keep pace with them.  The _Tremendous_ and _Torpid_, under
double-reefed topsails, led the way about two miles apart; the frigates
were posted, one to windward and one to leeward of the merchant-fleet,
and the brigs brought up the rear, it being their duty to whip-in the
stragglers, urge on the slow-coaches, and keep a sharp lookout for
prowling privateers.

The English coast was still faintly visible, like a light grey cloud, on
the horizon astern, when a strange sail was sighted on the port beam,
steering west, a course which brought her gradually nearer to the
convoy.  She was brig-rigged, and she continued to approach until she
had reached a point some six miles from the fleet; when she suddenly
hauled her wind, and, without showing any colours, stood away to the
southward and eastward, close-hauled, under a heavy press of canvas.
There had been a considerable amount of signalling going on between the
various men-o'-war from the moment of her first appearance, and now
there was still more; but it soon ceased; the last string of flags
displayed by the _Tremendous_ was acknowledged by the _Andromeda_, the
weathermost frigate, and the excitement appeared to be at an end.

"I'm afraid that means trouble for some of us, unless the men-o'-war
keep a good sharp lookout," observed Mr Bowen to George, jerking his
thumb over his shoulder in the direction of the rapidly receding brig,
as the two men walked the deck together, criticising the appearance and
sailing powers of the various craft in company.

"Ah, indeed?" remarked George.  "I see you have come to the same
conclusion as myself with regard to the stranger, which is that she is a
French privateer."

"Just that, sir, and nothing else," was the reply.  "She is French all
over; no need for her to show her colours; her rig speaks her
nationality plain enough for a blind man to read it.  She's been on the
watch for this fleet for the last week or more, you may depend on it,
and now she has gone back to report the news to her consorts that the
West India convoy has sailed.  Mark my words, sir; we shall all have to
keep a good sharp lookout, or a few of us will be snapped up yet, in
spite of the men-o'-war, before we sight the next land."

"Well," said George, "we must take care that the _Aurora_ is not one of
the few, that is all.  Luckily, we are not exactly the dullest sailer in
the fleet; and we must manage to keep well in the body of it.  It is the
outsiders that will run the greatest risk."

For the next three or four days an unusual amount of vigilance was
observable on board the men-o'-war, especially the frigates and
gun-brigs, all of which kept well in the offing during the day,
evidently on the lookout for prowling picaroons, and closing in again
upon the convoy at night; but nothing was seen to keep alive suspicion;
no ships of any description were encountered, save a couple of English
frigates, each of which replied to the private signal and exchanged
numbers with the _Tremendous_; and on the evening of the tenth day out
the lofty, precipitous cliffs of the Azores were sighted and passed.

Another week sped away without the occurrence of any incident worthy of
record; the wind continued fair and steady; and the convoy, though its
rate of travelling was rather slow, made very good progress.

On the afternoon of the eighteenth day out from Plymouth, the fleet
being at the time in latitude 32 degrees North, longitude 44 degrees 30
minutes West, or about half-way to Jamaica, the wind fell light; the
sky, which had hitherto been clear, became overcast, heavy masses of
dark, thunderous cloud slowly gathering in the south-western quarter and
gradually spreading athwart the sky until the whole of the visible
heavens were obscured.  The barometer dropped slightly, indicating, in
conjunction with the aspect of the sky, a probable change of wind and a
consequent interruption to their hitherto highly satisfactory progress.

As evening fell, flashes of sheet-lightning were occasionally to be seen
along the southern horizon; and Captain Leicester, anticipating a
thunder-storm and a probable heavy downfall of rain, made preparations
for the refilling of his water-casks.

But, though the atmosphere appeared to be heavily charged with
electricity, the thunder held off, and when night closed down upon the
convoy, the moon being then in her third quarter and rising late, it
became as dark as a wolf's mouth.

Lights were of course displayed on board each ship; and the convoy
having become somewhat scattered in consequence of the failure of the
breeze, the effect was very singular and striking.

This being George's first voyage across the Atlantic, he was naturally a
little anxious; and on the night in question he resolved to remain on
deck until the weather should have assumed some more decided aspect.
There was fortunately still a gentle breeze from about east-south-east
fanning the convoy along at a speed of some two knots in the hour, just
giving the ships steerage-way; and they were consequently able to keep
out of each other's way, and thus avoid collision, always a great
element of danger when a large number of craft happen to be sailing in
company.

About two bells in the middle watch, George being seated at the time
near the companion, smoking a meditative pipe, and thinking somewhat
ruefully about Lucy Walford, the carpenter, who was in charge of the
deck, approached him and said--

"Unless I am greatly mistaken, sir, here's a large craft without any
lights creeping up on our larboard quarter."

"Indeed," said George, rousing himself and stepping aft to the taffrail
with the carpenter; "whereabouts is she?"

The carpenter looked intently astern for a moment, then stretched out
his arm, saying--

"There, sir--ah! now you can see her, she is just about to shut out the
first of those four lights that you can see all close together.  There!
now she has shut it out."

"I see her!" said George.  "Whatever does the fellow mean by being
without lights on such a pitch-dark night as this; it would serve him
right to report him to the commodore in the morning.  He has a smart
vessel under his feet, though; see how she is overhauling us.  Why, it
must surely be one of the gun-brigs, judging from her spread of canvas
and her lofty spars.  But what can she be doing here, in the very middle
of the fleet, and without lights, too?"

The stranger was by this time little more than a couple of cables'
lengths from the _Aurora_, drawing up to her fast, and apparently
intending to pass her very closely.  George glanced anxiously at his
stern light, thinking it might possibly have gone out, but no, it was
burning brightly and must be distinctly visible to those on board the
other craft.

Gradually the dark, mysterious fabric drew closer and still closer up on
the port quarter of the _Aurora_, not the faintest glimmer of light
being visible from stem to stern, and not a sound of any kind to be
heard on board her.

George began to feel a trifle nervous as he watched the silent, stealthy
approach of the stranger; and fetching his speaking-trumpet from the
beckets in the companion-way, where it always hung in company with the
telescope, he stepped aft to the taffrail and hailed--

"Ship ahoy!"

"Hillo!" was the response, in a tone of voice pitched so low that,
though it was distinctly audible to those on board the _Aurora_, it
would not penetrate the sluggish atmosphere to any great distance.

"What ship is that?" inquired George.

"His Britannic Majesty's brig--" (name unintelligible).  "What ship is
that?"

"The _Aurora_, of London.  Why are you out of your station, and without
lights, sir?  Is there anything wrong?"

"Yes," was the reply, "but don't hail any more; there are enemies at
hand.  I will sheer alongside you presently, and tell you what to do."

"Enemies at hand, eh!" muttered George.  "What can it mean, I wonder?
And if there _are_ enemies, by which, I suppose, they mean Frenchmen, in
our neighbourhood, those man-o'-war fellows must have eyes like owls to
be able to see them in the dark.  Just step down into the cabin, if you
please, Mr Ritson, and give the mate a call; I don't half like this."

In little more than a minute Mr Bowen was on deck and listening to
George's statement of what had already passed, and of his uneasiness.
George had just finished speaking, when there was a sound as of a
falling handspike, or something of the kind, on board the stranger,
followed by a loud ejaculation of--

"_Sacr-r-r-r-re nom de_--"

The remainder of the exclamation was promptly suppressed, but it was
enough; George's suspicions were now fully aroused, and he whispered to
the two men standing by him--

"She is French, beyond a doubt; they intended to surprise us, and very
nearly they did it, too.  But we will not be caught quite so easily this
time.  Ritson, go forward, rouse the men, and tell them to creep aft
under the shelter of the bulwarks; let not one of them show so much as a
hair of his head above the rail; and tell them to look lively.  And you,
Mr Bowen, be good enough to go below and bring up a cutlass apiece for
all hands."



CHAPTER FIVE.

"CHOPPEE FOR CHANGEE--A BLACK DOG FOR A BLUE MONKEY."

By the time that the _Aurora's_ crew were on deck, crouching behind the
bulwarks aft on the port side, armed, and instructed by George as to
what he required of them, the strange sail was within a dozen fathoms of
the _Aurora's_ port quarter.

She could now be seen with tolerable distinctness, the outline of the
hull and of the lofty canvas showing black as ebony against the dark
background of sea and sky; and any doubts which Captain Leicester might
have still entertained concerning her, were completely set at rest as he
glanced at the cut of her canvas.  It was French all over.

Foot by foot the brig--for such she was--crept up to the _Aurora_, until
her bows were in a line with the barque's stern and not more than twenty
feet distant.  George stood by the main-rigging, watching her, cutlass
in hand, calm and determined, his plans already formed for action in the
event of his suspicions proving correct.

In the ordinary course of things the two craft were now quite near
enough to each other for any communication, however confidential in its
nature, to be made without the possibility of its being overheard; but,
though George could see that a figure stood on the brig's rail by the
main-rigging, not a word was uttered.

Keeping his gaze steadfastly fixed upon the brig, Captain Leicester saw
that her helm had suddenly been ported, for she was sheering strongly in
toward his own vessel.

"Brig ahoy!" he hailed.  "What is it you have to say to me?  Do not come
too close, sir, or you will be into us."

"Never fear," answered in perfect English the dark figure on board the
brig, "we will not carry away so much as a rope-yarn belonging to you.
But I must be on board you before I can venture to give you your
instructions."

"Oh! very well," said George.  "If you intend boarding us, you had
better do so by way of our fore-rigging, or you may get a nasty fall; we
are very much littered up here abaft with spars and so on."

"Ah, thank you very much; I will take your advice," was the reply.

George saw the man motion with his arm, and the brig's course was
altered sufficiently to put her alongside with her gangway even with the
_Aurora's_ fore-mast.  Another second or two, and the ships gently
jarred together, the brig's quarter dropping alongside the barque at the
same moment.

"_Enfans, allons-nous-en_!" exclaimed the voice of the stranger forward,
followed by the sound of a leap on to the barque's deck, and a scramble
among the spars which littered it there.

"Now is your time, lads; jump for your lives!" exclaimed George in a
low, excited tone; and, setting his men the example, he forthwith sprang
from his own ship's bulwarks to those of the brig; and dashing at the
helmsman, cut him down with his cutlass before the fellow could recover
sufficiently from his astonishment to utter a cry.  Then, without a
moment's pause, he seized the wheel and exerting all his strength, sent
it with a single twirl spinning hard over to starboard, where he lashed
it.

The shock of collision, slight as it was, caused the two vessels to
recoil from each other, and they were barely alongside when they
separated again; George's manipulation of the brig's wheel, and a
similar manipulation of the _Aurora's_ helm at the last moment before
the touching of the two vessels, greatly expediting the separation.  By
the time, therefore, that George had looked about him, and satisfied
himself that the whole of his crew were safely with him on the brig's
deck, the two vessels were a dozen feet apart and increasing their
distance every second; their bows diverging from each other at almost a
right angle.

The Frenchmen, on boarding the _Aurora_, divided into two parties, one
of which rushed forward to secure the crew, while the other made a
similar rush aft, for the purpose of overpowering the officers and
helmsman.  In their astonishment and perplexity at finding the decks
deserted, they paused for a moment irresolutely, then hurriedly searched
the cabin and forecastle, only to find that the ship was utterly
deserted.  Then, for the first time, a glimmering of the truth presented
itself to the mind of the French leader, and his suspicions were
instantly confirmed; for Captain Leicester, having at that moment
rallied his crew, led them forward, and, finding that, as he had
expected, the Frenchmen had boarded the _Aurora_ with all their
available strength, leaving only some five-and-twenty men on board the
brig to handle her, he, after a short, sharp tussle, drove these men
below and secured complete possession of the brig.

The party on board the _Aurora_ distinctly heard the sounds of the
conflict, and waited in breathless expectancy for its termination.  They
had not long to wait; in little over a couple of minutes Captain
Leicester's voice was heard giving the order to shift the helm--the brig
having in the meantime gone round until she was head to wind with her
canvas flat aback--and to trim over the head-sheets.  Then a chorus of
curses, both loud and deep, from the deck of the _Aurora_, proclaimed
the chagrin of the Frenchmen on board her at the--to them--extraordinary
and unforeseen result of the adventure.

But their captain was a man of indomitable pluck, energy, and readiness
of resource, and by no means given to a tame and immediate acceptance of
defeat.  He realised the situation in a moment, and, determining to make
the best of a bad bargain, promptly ordered sail to be crowded upon the
_Aurora_, in the hope of effecting his escape.  The night being dark,
however, and his men new to the ship, the work went on but slowly; and
by the time that the topgallantsails were sheeted home, his own brig was
once more alongside, with two red lights hoisted to her gaff-end (the
alarm-signal), her ports open, guns run out, and the men standing by
them ready to open fire.

As she drew up abreast the _Aurora_, George hailed--

"Barque ahoy!  Let fly your sheets and halliards at once, and surrender,
or I will fire into you!"

"All right," was the reply from the French captain; "you have won the
game, monsieur, so I will not attempt to rob you of the credit of
victory.  You managed the affair exceedingly well, _mon ami_, and have
taught me a lesson I shall remember for the rest of my life.  You may
come on board and take possession as soon as you like."

He then gave the necessary orders in French to his crew; the halliards
and sheets were let fly on board the _Aurora_, George reducing sail at
the same time in the brig, and the two vessels, losing way, began
gradually to drop into the rear portion of the convoy.

Captain Leicester did not, however, accept the French captain's
invitation to go on board and take possession once more of his own ship;
that proceeding would have been just a trifle too risky.  He had the
game in his own hands, and intended to keep it there; so he quietly
waited until one of the men-o'-war should come alongside, as he knew
would soon be the case, in response to his signal.

In a short time another brig was seen approaching under a perfect cloud
of sail, an unmistakably English gun-brig this time, however.  Sweeping
up on the port quarter of George's prize, an officer sprang into the
main-rigging, and hailed--

"Brig ahoy!  What brig is that?"

"The _Jeune Virginie_, French privateer," answered George.  "She
managed, somehow, to slip in among the fleet unobserved in the darkness,
and threw a heavy boarding-party in on the deck of my vessel--the
_Aurora_ I suspected her designs just in time, however, and as her crew
boarded me, I boarded her, and succeeded in taking possession; the two
ships separating immediately and thus preventing the return of the
French to their own craft."

"Ah, I see," remarked the officer.  "You effected an exchange of
ships--`choppee for changee--a black dog for a blue monkey,' eh?  And
now you want us to get your own ship back for you?"

"Not exactly," answered George with a laugh; "I have already forced her
to surrender; that is the craft--the barque immediately under my lee.
But I shall feel obliged if you will take charge of the prisoners, and
lend me sufficient men to navigate my prize into port."

"Um; well, I really do not quite know about that.  I will man your prize
for you to-night; but you must see the commodore about the matter in the
morning; if he will authorise me to lend you a prize-crew, of course I
shall be very happy.  By the way, where did the Frenchman come from?"

"When I saw the craft first, she was about a couple of cables' lengths
directly astern of us," answered Leicester.

"She was, eh!" remarked the officer.  "Well, there will be a pretty row
to-morrow about her being allowed to slip in undetected.  I will send a
boat on board your own ship at once, to remove the prisoners; and, that
done, I will tell off a crew to man your prize for you."

This was accordingly done, and an hour after the arrival of the
_Throstle_ upon the scene, George and his crew were once more
comfortably established on board their own ship.

On the following morning the affair was officially reported to the
commodore, who put himself into a tremendous passion about it, declaring
that such an occurrence reflected indelible disgrace upon the whole
British navy, and that he would bring to court-martial every one of the
officers belonging to the convoying ships;--which, however, seeing that
at bottom he was a fine, good-hearted old fellow, he never did.  And
after abusing everybody else, he sent for George, complimented him upon
his gallantry publicly on the quarterdeck of the _Tremendous_, offered
to obtain a commission for him (an offer which our hero was foolish
enough to decline), and gave his hearty consent to the proposed
borrowing of a prize-crew.

But the affair did not by any means end here; for on the following
night, which was almost as dark as the preceding one, three ships
belonging to the merchant-fleet under convoy gave an unusual and
altogether extraordinary amount of trouble to the captains of the
gun-brigs by their persistent straggling; and, suspicion being at length
aroused, they were all found to be in the hands of French prize-crews,
having been surprised and captured by the _Jeune Virginie_ immediately
prior to her unsuccessful attempt upon the _Aurora_.  Had they been only
a little less anxious to effect their escape, they might, as the event
proved, have accomplished it without the slightest difficulty.

About 2 p.m. on the day following the recapture of these three vessels,
the weather being at the time stark calm, with an overcast sky, the
signal to "shorten sail and prepare for bad weather," was exhibited on
board the commodore's ship--the old _Tremendous_.  It was very difficult
to make out the signal, the flags hanging from the masthead in such
close, motionless folds that it was almost impossible to identify them;
so, after a long and anxious scrutiny of them through his telescope,
George, thinking he must surely have misinterpreted the message, dived
below to take a look at his barometer.  A single glance at it was
sufficient to show him that he was not mistaken, the mercury having
fallen a full inch in little more than two hours.

When he returned to the deck again, which he did immediately, the
various ships were lying with their heads all round the compass, the
merchantmen showing no signs that they understood the signal; but on
board the men-o'-war the crews were seen to be very busy reefing
topsails; the topgallant and royal-masts and yards being already sent
down on deck.

Captain Leicester lost no time in following their example, as far as he
was able.  To send down on deck any of his top-hamper, with his limited
crew, was of course quite out of the question, but he called all hands,
and, hurrying them aloft, set them to work, first to furl all the light
upper canvas, and then to close-reef both topsails.  This done, he
ordered them to furl the main and fore courses, which were already
clewed up.

Part of the crew were already on the main-yard, and the remainder,
having completed the reefing of the fore-topsail, had descended from
aloft forward and were on their way up the main-rigging to assist in the
stowing of the main-sail, when a heavy black, threatening-looking
cloud-bank, which lay stretched along the western horizon, was seen to
suddenly burst open, revealing a broad copper-tinted rent, which widened
with alarming rapidity.

George's quick eye detected the change in an instant, and knowing what
it meant, and that there was no time to lose, hailed the crew with a
loud shout of--

"Now then, my lads, look alive aloft there, and toss up that main-sail
smartly.  If you are quick about it, you may yet get the gaskets round
it before the gale strikes us; if you are not, we shall lose the sail,
and very probably some of you, too."

The men answered with a cheery "Ay, ay, sir," and set to work with a
will, Leicester and the chief mate springing aft to the wheel at the
same moment.

In the meantime the broad yellow rent in the clouds to the westward had
spread very considerably, the vapour overhead had gathered way, and was
scudding rapidly across the sky in an easterly direction, and already,
upon the western horizon, a long, rapidly advancing line of white
foaming water gave unmistakable indications of the close proximity of
the hurricane.  The old _Tremendous_ now did what she could to hurry up
the laggards, by firing rapid signal-guns; and the crews of the several
ships, waking up at last, were seen swarming aloft, when it was too
late, to shorten sail.

The _Aurora_ was lying with her head pointed to the southward, with her
starboard broadside presented square to the wind, when the gale first
struck her.  Her skipper, anxious to save his canvas, if possible, kept
his men aloft as long as he dared, urging and encouraging them with his
voice to exert themselves to their utmost; but when he saw the old
_Tremendous_ bow under the first stroke of the blast as though she meant
to "turn the turtle" altogether, he thought it was high time to look to
the safety of his crew.

"Make fast, and come down at once, lads," he shouted; "down with you,
for your lives; the canvas must take care of itself now."

Startled by the anxious sharpness of the hail, the men hurriedly knotted
the gaskets, just as they were, and scuttled in off the yard like so
many frightened squirrels.

They were all in the main-rigging when the hurricane burst upon the
ship.  With a terrific, unearthly streaming roar it rushed upon her, and
the barque, as if conscious of her utter inability to withstand its
tremendous strength, instantly went over on her beam-ends, with her
lower yard-arms dipping into the water.  The men in the lee-rigging were
almost completely sheltered by the hull of the ship, and they had
therefore but little difficulty in holding on.  But they were obliged to
remain where they were, the lower portion of the shrouds being buried
some eight feet deep in water, thus precluding the possibility of the
men descending to the deck; whilst to go aloft again and endeavour to
descend to windward, was as much as their lives were worth.  They had a
practical illustration of this in the fact that two of the men in the
weather shrouds were actually torn from their hold, and dashed with such
violence against the main-top that one man had his arm, and the other,
three of his ribs broken.

Captain Leicester, on seeing the near approach of the hurricane, had,
after hailing his men to come down from aloft, lashed the wheel
hard-a-starboard, and then, accompanied by Mr Bowen, he hurried away to
the foot of the main-mast, where they cast off the starboard fore-braces
and hauled in upon the larboard until they had braced the topsail as
sharp up as it was possible for two men to get it.  The result of this
manoeuvre was that, when the gale struck the _Aurora_, her main-topsail,
which was a-shiver, was blown clean out of the bolt-ropes in an instant,
as also was the foresail and the partially-stowed main-sail; whilst the
fore-topsail was strongly filled at once, and being luckily a new sail,
and standing the strain upon it bravely, it quickly began to drag the
ship through the water.  As soon as she gathered way, her bows began to
pay off, and presently she recovered her upright position with a jerk
which snapped both her topgallant-masts close off by the caps.

The wheel was now righted, and away the _Aurora_ went, scudding dead
before it, under her close-reefed fore-topsail only.  The crew now made
the best of their way down on deck, the head-yards were squared, and an
effort was made to clear away the wreck, two of the men volunteering
for, and succeeding in, the dangerous task of going aloft to cut away
the fore and main-topgallant rigging.

George now had time to look about him a little, and observe the state of
affairs prevailing outside his own ship.  On all sides were to be seen
ships--men-o'-war as well as merchantmen--scudding, like his own, before
the irresistible fury of the gale.  Nearly every ship had suffered
damage of some sort, either to sails, spars, or rigging; and out of them
all, very few had come better out of the first buffet than the _Aurora_.
Here was to be seen a craft with topgallant-masts and jib-boom gone,
and her canvas hanging from her yards in long tattered streamers; there
another with nothing standing above her lower mastheads; here a barque
with her main-yard carried away; there a stately ship with her
mizzenmast and all attached still towing astern, and the _crew_ busy
cutting away at the rigging which held the shattered spar; here another
fine ship, totally dismasted; and there, now far astern, more than one
dark object lying low in the water, and but imperfectly seen through the
flying spindrift, which George Leicester knew only too well were the
hulls of ships which had capsized, and whose crews would be left to
perish miserably, since no human power could possibly save them in an
hour like that.

It soon became evident to the crew of the _Aurora_, that though they had
so far escaped with comparatively slight damage, they could certainly
not regard their ship as by any means free from peril so long as they
remained in the company of the rest of the fleet.  So many ships
scudding together almost helplessly before the fury of the gale could
not but prove a very great source of danger to each other, now that it
was no longer possible to regulate their rate of sailing; and George
soon found himself confronted with a new anxiety, that of being in
danger of a collision.  The sea was rising with extraordinary rapidity,
and the various craft soon began to steer wildly, sheering so rankly,
first to one side and then to the other, that many of them threatened to
broach-to altogether.

The _Aurora_ was a very smart little vessel under her canvas, as she now
proved by keeping pace with two large ships, one of which lay on her
port-bow, and the other on her starboard beam.  So even was the rate of
sailing of the three that neither of them, anxious as each was to
accomplish the feat, could draw away from the others; and the strength
of the gale was such that it was equally impossible for them either to
make or to reduce sail.  There they remained, therefore, maintaining
exactly the same relative position to each other, now sheering
uncontrollably inwards, so that each man held his breath and braced
himself for the shock which seemed inevitable, and which, under such
circumstances, must result in the total destruction of both ships; and,
anon, surging as wildly off in opposite directions.

To add still further to Captain Leicester's embarrassments, the trio of
ships were rapidly overhauling a fourth, which was wallowing along dead
ahead of the _Aurora_.  She was a large craft, apparently of about eight
hundred tons measurement; her three topmasts were carried away close off
by the caps; the wreckage was all lying inboard, cumbering up her decks;
her courses and staysails were blown to ribbons; and she was steering so
badly that it was difficult to say _where_ she was going, except that
her general direction was to leeward.  George saw that, should he
overtake this vessel before getting clear of the two which already
hampered him so seriously, a catastrophe was inevitable, and he speedily
made up his mind that the _Aurora's_ speed _must_ be sufficiently
reduced to allow of her dropping astern and into the wake of one or the
other of his present consorts.  The only means by which, under the
circumstances, this could be accomplished was by sacrificing the
fore-topsail; and he accordingly called for a volunteer to assist him in
the task.  Mr Bowen and the carpenter both proffered their services,
and, selecting the latter, and requesting the chief mate to take charge
of the deck and superintend the conning of the ship, George went
forward, followed by the carpenter, and led the way aloft.  Now that
they were scudding before it, the strength of the wind was no longer
felt to its full extent; it was still powerful enough, however, to make
the journey aloft full of peril, and the two adventurers were compelled
to make frequent pauses on their way, in order to avoid being blown out
of the rigging.  At length, however, they reached the yard, and,
producing their knives, began to work their way outwards from the mast,
one toward each yard-arm, cutting the seizings as they came to them.
Their task was soon accomplished; for when half the seizings were cut,
the wind saved them all further trouble by carrying away the remainder;
the sail gave one terrific flap--which sprung the fore-yard--and then,
tearing out of its bolt-ropes, went soaring away ahead of them, like a
flake of cloud.

Thus relieved, the _Aurora's_ speed sensibly diminished and by the time
that George was once more down on deck, they were able, by watching
their opportunity, to sheer in under the stern of the ship which had
before lain upon their port-bow, and thus place the _Aurora_
comparatively out of harm's way.

They were only just in time.  The ship ahead was overtaken, and, in
sheering into her new position, the _Aurora_ was compelled to shave
close past the stranger's stern.  Glancing up at her as they shot past,
with a feeling of deep gratitude at their escape, George saw a little
crowd of passengers huddled together upon her poop, like frightened
sheep.  They were all looking at the _Aurora_, evidently fully aware of
the danger from which they had so narrowly escaped; and among them
George suddenly recognised a face which he had more than half hoped he
would never see again--the face of his successful rival, as he believed
him to be, Lieutenant Walford.

George waved his hand in recognition, the salutation was half
reluctantly returned, and then the two craft separated; but not before
George had had time to read the name painted on her stern--the _Princess
Royal_, of London.



CHAPTER SIX.

THE MUTINY ON BOARD THE "PRINCESS ROYAL."

It now becomes necessary that we should for a short time forsake the
_Aurora_, and follow the fortunes of the _Princess Royal_.

At the moment of our making the acquaintance of this vessel a very
unsatisfactory state of affairs happened to prevail on board her.  She
was, as we have already seen, a large ship, as ships went at that time,
being of 870 tons register, and capable of carrying close upon 1200 tons
dead-weight.  She had saloon accommodation for forty passengers, and
carried an armament of twelve 9-pounders upon her main-deck, the
intention of her owners being that she should fight her own way, if
necessary, to and fro across the ocean, and so be independent of convoy.

But on her present voyage this plan had to be abandoned, the activity of
the press-gangs, and the consequent scarcity of seamen being such that
she cleared out of the port of London with only thirty men in her
forecastle; a crew wholly inadequate to successfully defend a ship of
her size in the extremely likely event of her encountering an adversary.
She was therefore compelled, like many others, to avail herself of the
protection of convoy.

Upon her arrival at Plymouth, she, like the _Aurora_, received a visit
from a man-o'-war's boat, which carried off four of her best men,
reducing her number of seamen to twenty-six.  It will thus be seen that,
when she finally sailed out of English waters, she was very
short-handed.

Now, as Jack is to this day, so he ever has been--an inveterate
grumbler; he _will_ find _something_ to growl about.  It is not to be
wondered at, therefore, that, with such good cause, there should be
constant dissatisfaction in the _Princess Royal's_ forecastle.

But though Jack _is_, and always has been, such a grumbler, and though
probably nothing on earth will ever cure him of this habit--for habit
only it is--yet, even where there is good and sufficient cause for
discontent, a little judicious management, forbearance, and sympathy
will prevent the mischief from going any further.

Unfortunately, however, for the _Princess Royal_ and all connected with
her, the measures adopted by those in authority on board her for the
suppression of this quickly-discovered spirit of discontent were the
extreme opposite of judicious.  The master--as is sometimes the case
with masters of very fine ships--was haughty and overbearing, possessed
of a highly-exaggerated opinion of his own importance, turning a deaf
ear to all the complaints of his crew, and treating them with an
impatience and superciliousness of manner which made him heartily
detested.  The chief mate, an arrant sycophant, taking his cue from his
superior officer imitated him to the utmost extent of his ability, with
a like result; while the second mate was a blustering bully, whose great
pride and boast it was that he could always make one man do the work of
two.  Hence, from the very commencement of the voyage, the quarterdeck
and the forecastle, instead of pulling together and making an united
effort to overcome the difficulties of their position, rapidly grew to
regard each other with mutual feelings of enmity and distrust.

Matters had consequently, as might be expected, been steadily growing
from bad to worse, from the first moment of sailing; and on the day
before the gale a very unpleasant incident had occurred on board.

It arose in this way.  On the second mate's watch being called, one of
the men remained in his hammock, sending word by one of his shipmates to
the officer of the watch that he was ill and unfit for duty.  The second
mate, instead of reporting the circumstance to the master, and having it
inquired into, as was the proper course, jumped at once to the
conclusion that the man was merely feigning sickness, in order to avoid
the performance of his proper share of work; and, taking the matter into
his own hands, he proceeded to the forecastle, armed with a "colt," and,
dragging the unhappy seaman out of his hammock, drove him on deck,
abusing him roundly the while in no measured terms, and setting him to
work to grease the main-mast, from the truck downward.

The poor fellow, who was really ill, procured a pot of grease and
started up the rigging, but, finding himself wholly unequal to the task
of going aloft, descended again, and proceeding aft to the poop went up
to the captain, who happened to be standing conversing with some of the
passengers, and requested to be released from duty, repeating his plea
of illness.  The second mate had, however, in the meantime mentioned the
matter to the captain, putting his own construction upon it; the request
was therefore harshly and hastily refused, the refusal being accompanied
by the assertion that the pleader was a mean, skulking, mutinous rascal,
not worth his salt.

Lieutenant Walford happened to be one of the passengers standing near at
the moment, and, as the dissatisfied seaman turned away, Walford turned
to the captain and said--

"We in the army have a very short and simple method of dealing with
fellows like that--we flog them; and, I assure you, it proves a
never-failing cure."

The sick man heard this remark, so did the man at the wheel, and from
that moment Walford was a marked man.

The captain turned round sharply.

"Do you?" said he.  "Then by Jove I'll see if it will prove equally
efficacious here.  Mr Thomson, have that man seized up to a grating,
and give him two dozen; I'll be bound he'll be well enough to go aloft
after that; if he isn't, he shall have another couple of dozen."

Thomson, the second mate, at once sprang upon the man, and, seizing him
by the collar, ordered the boatswain to call all hands.

This was done.  The men were drawn up in the waist of the ship on the
lee-side, the sick seaman was seized up at the lee gangway, and in the
presence of all on board (except the ladies, who retired to the saloon
in indignation and disgust) the unhappy man received his two dozen.

But here a further widening of the breach between the officers and the
crew of the ship took place.  The individual appointed to administer the
flogging was the boatswain's mate, a great brawny Cornishman, named
Talbot.  This individual, when all was ready, bared his muscular right
arm to the shoulder, and, grasping the cat firmly, measured his distance
accurately with his eye; then stood waiting the command to begin.  The
captain, the mates, Walford, and one or two more of the on-lookers
smiled their satisfaction as they witnessed these elaborate preparations
for the infliction of a severe flogging; and the captain, willing to
prolong the man's suffering as much as possible, allowed a long pause to
ensue before giving the word.

At length he nodded to Talbot, who at once took a step back, and, giving
the tails of the cat a mighty flourish in the air, brought them down
upon the man's naked shoulders so gently that an audible laugh broke
spontaneously from the entire crew at the ludicrous sight.  The captain
turned livid with fury.

"You!" he gasped; "what do you mean by that, you lubber?  Lay it on,
sir; lay it on hot and heavy, or by Jove I'll have _you_ seized up, and
will give you five dozen myself."

"Ay, ay, sir," was the imperturbable reply; and the second stroke was
administered with even more threatening preliminaries than the first,
but with, if possible, even less effect.

"Put that fellow in irons at once!" shouted the captain, "and let him
have no food except bread and water until further orders.  You hear,
steward?  If he has anything more, I will make you responsible for it.
I will teach him--and everybody else--that when I give an order, I will
have it obeyed.  Now, Rogers," to the boatswain, "take the cat, and give
that skulking rascal at the grating the two dozen he so richly
deserves."

The boatswain stepped forward, and, without removing his jacket or
making any other preparation, sullenly took the cat in his hand.  The
chief mate meanwhile went off for a pair of handcuffs, and, returning,
slipped them on the wrists of the rebellious boatswain's mate.

The second mate, who was still looking on, noticing the behaviour of the
boatswain, and the ill-concealed triumph of the crew at Talbot's
conduct, now turned to the captain and said--

"Let _me_ play bo'sun's mate for once sir; I'll be bound I'll give the
sneaking lubber his proper 'lowance; he'll never get it from any of his
shipmates, I can see."

"Very well, do so," said the captain; "let him have it hot and strong;
it will show those mutinous scoundrels that we have it in our power to
punish them yet."

The second mate waited for no more, but, whipping off his coat and
rolling up his shirt-sleeves, snatched the cat out of Rogers' hand, and
began at once to administer the punishment.

His first stroke drew blood and forced a shriek of anguish from the
quivering lips of his victim, a sound which extorted a laugh of fiendish
glee from the captain.  A second, third, fourth, and fifth lash followed
in slow, deliberate succession, stripping off shreds of skin, and
lacerating the back of the sufferer until it presented a sickening
sight.  At the sixth stroke the shrieks ceased, and the man's head
dropped upon his breast.

At this sight the second mate seemed somewhat startled, and looked up
inquiringly at the captain.

"Go on," said the latter, with an encouraging nod of the head; "go on
and finish the dose; he's only shamming.  Put a little more strength
into your blows, man; I'll be bound you can fetch another howl or two
out of him yet, if you feel inclined."

Thus incited, the second mate actually proceeded with and completed his
fiendish task, at the end of which the perspiration poured in a stream
down his face, so great had been his exertions.

But not another cry could he wring from his victim, in spite of all his
efforts--the poor fellow was insensible, and in that condition was cast
off from the grating, and taken below to his hammock.  There was no
doctor on board, so the unfortunate seaman was left to the clumsy though
well-meant ministrations of his shipmates, who did the best they could
for him, the captain refusing to supply salve, lint, or in fact anything
else with which to dress his wounds.

At dinner that evening the captain was urged by some of the passengers
to represent to the commodore of the convoying squadron the
insubordinate condition of the crew, and to request his assistance.
This, however, he positively refused to do, roundly asserting his
ability to command his own ship; but, as a matter of fact, the only
reason for his reluctance to take this step arose out of the conviction
that an inquiry would certainly follow as to the causes of the
insubordination, from which inquiry, as he was very well aware, he and
his officers could hope for nothing but a complete revelation of their
own culpability.

At the moment that this course was being urged upon the captain in the
saloon, the incident of the flogging, and, indeed, the whole question of
their treatment by their officers, was being discussed on the forecastle
by the men; and, singular to relate, although Talbot was believed by his
officers to be at that instant in irons below, if either of them had
walked forward just then, they would have found him snugly seated on
deck, free, on the fore-side of the windlass, taking an active part in
the discussion.  By the time that eight bells had struck, they had fully
made up their minds as to their course of action, and the assembly
quietly dispersed.

The next day was that on which the gale burst upon the fleet.

On the signal being made by the _Tremendous_ to "Shorten sail and
prepare for bad weather," the _Princess Royal_ was one of the first to
manifest signs of obedience.  She was at the time under every stitch of
canvas she could spread, not because she was a sluggish sailer, for she
was the reverse of that, but because, there being a flat calm, it
mattered not how much or how little canvas was set, it could make no
possible difference in the movements or position of the vessel; and the
captain, seeing here a fine opportunity to impose upon his crew--"by way
of punishment," as he put it to himself and his officers--a great deal
of unnecessary work, ordered all sail, even to the studding-sails, to be
set, for the purpose, as he averred, of giving them an airing.

The first thing to be done in the way of shortening sail, therefore, was
to take in the studding-sails, which the crew, not being then aware of
the danger which threatened the ship, proceeded to do in a very
leisurely and deliberate fashion.  Their next task was to haul down the
smaller staysails, then to clew up and furl royals and topgallantsails.
They were all aloft, in the act of stowing these sails, when the
hurricane burst upon them.  They fortunately saw its approach in time to
save themselves, and, leaving the canvas drooping loose from the yards,
hurriedly descended to the deck by way of the backstays, and were
scarcely there when, with the first furious rush of the wind, the three
topmasts went, one after the other in quick succession, the wreckage
falling on deck and lumbering it fore and aft.

The crew regarded the mishap with stolid satisfaction.  The delay which
it would occasion in the prosecution of the voyage was nothing to them;
the ship was stripped of everything above her lower mastheads, leaving
so much the less canvas for her crew to handle, and that was all they
cared about at the moment.  A little later on in the day they saw that
if the gale lasted--of which there was every prospect--the loss of her
spars would result in her separation from the remainder of the fleet,
and as they remarked upon this to each other, the men smiled grimly, and
exchanged certain short pithy remarks which, had they been heard by the
occupants of the saloon, would have produced a feeling of grave
uneasiness.

The crew were, of course, at once set to work to clear away the wreck,
and this they forthwith proceeded to do, for their own sakes, however,
rather than out of respect to the captain's orders, the heavy spars
dashing about the deck with the roll of the ship in a manner which made
it positively dangerous to be there at all.

By nightfall the rest of the fleet had passed out of sight to the
eastward, scattered like chaff before the angry breath of the hurricane,
and the _Princess Royal_ was left to fight out her battle alone.  By
dint of almost superhuman exertions, the shattered spars had been
secured, the main-sail cut away from the yard, and such other
dispositions made as would allow of her being kept dead before the wind,
and out of the trough of the sea during the coming night; and when the
captain took his seat at the head of the saloon-table at dinner that
evening, he was full of boastful exultation over the prompt obedience of
his crew, frequently congratulating his passengers upon their being on
board a ship in charge of such capable officers as himself and his
mates.  Of course he did not actually say this in so many words, but the
burden of his remarks amounted to it, and nothing less.

The second mate had the middle watch on that eventful night, and just
after he had struck four bells, and the wheel had been relieved, he was
inexpressibly scandalised by hearing above the howling of the gale loud
sounds of singing and jocularity on the forecastle.

Such sounds were of so very unusual a character on board the _Princess
Royal_ that, coupled with the circumstance of their being uttered in the
middle watch of all times in the world, he was at first so astonished as
to be quite unable to believe his own ears.  Very soon, however, they
were repeated, one of the men actually breaking into a rollicking song,
the burden of which was an invocation to "Let us all be jolly, boys,"
under every conceivable combination of circumstances.

"Jolly!  The scoundrels!  How dare they so much as think of such a thing
at a time when they were living under the ban of their officers' severe
displeasure?  And the ship a perfect wreck aloft, too!"  It was simply
monstrous; the second mate's righteous anger blazed up into full fury at
once, and, advancing to the break of the poop, he roared out in
stentorian tones--

"Silence, there, for'ard!  What do you mean, you unmannerly swabs, by
disturbing the ship fore and aft with your infernal howling at this time
of night?"

Either the "unmannerly swabs" had not heard him, or they were so utterly
lost to all sense of the respect due to their officer as to pay no
attention to his polite adjuration, for the song was continued, with
some attempt at a chorus.

The second mate was not in the habit of speaking twice to those under
him, and he did not attempt to do so now.  Drawing his knotted "colt"
out of his pocket, he descended the poop-ladder, and hurried forward as
fast as the heavy rolling of the ship would permit, determined to teach
the "howling thieves" a lesson they would not readily forget.

Meanwhile, though he was blissfully ignorant of the fact, sharp eyes had
been watching his motions for some time; and his foot was scarcely on
the top step of the poop-ladder when Jim Martin, the owner of a pair of
the aforesaid sharp eyes, exclaimed--

"Hurrah, my bullies!  Keep it up; here he comes.  The shark has bolted
the bait without so much as smelling at it."

The group of men clustered on the forecastle made a slight restless
movement, as men sometimes will when they are conscious of the approach
of a great crisis in their lives, and the voice of the singer quavered
the merest trifle.  Another moment, and the second mate was among them,
his eyes flashing with anger and his colt uplifted to strike.

"What the deuce?"

Before he could utter another word, his legs were cut from under him by
the sweeping blow of a handspike, and he fell with a crash to the deck,
the back of his head striking so violently on the planking as to
momentarily stun him.  In an instant a belaying-pin was thrust between
his teeth and secured there with a lashing of spun-yarn; and then,
before he had sufficiently recovered to realise his position, he was
turned over on his face, his arms drawn behind him, and his wrists and
ankles firmly lashed together.

"Very neatly managed," remarked Talbot approvingly, as his gaze rested
on the prostrate figure on the deck.  "Now, mates, what's the next move?
Come, Ned," to the boatswain, "you're to be our new skipper, you know;
give us your orders, cap'n, and we'll be `yours obejently.'"

"Well, then, if you're all agreed upon that, shipmates, my first order
is for one of you--you Tom--to go aft into the saloon and knock at the
`old man's' door [Note 1], and ask him to come on deck at once, as Mr
Thomson have met with a haccident.  Two more of you'll wait for him
outside the door, and when he steps out 'pon deck sarve him the same as
you've sarved our respected friend here.  Then do the same with Mr
Nicholls (the chief mate)."

These orders were so skilfully executed, that in a quarter of an hour
the mutineers had the captain and his two _aides_ prisoners--bound and
helpless in their hands, without the slightest alarm having been given
to the other occupants of the saloon.  The larboard watch was then
called; and from their first eager questions when aroused it became
evident that the seizure of the ship was a carefully planned affair, of
which all in the forecastle were fully cognisant.

The seamen having paraded on deck, and been, with the aid of a lantern,
carefully inspected by the boatswain to ascertain that there were no
recreant spirits among them now that the crisis had arrived, each man--
excepting a half-dozen left in charge of the deck--was provided with a
short length of well-stretched ratline, carrying which, they proceeded
in a body to the saloon, and, entering the state-rooms, surprised in
their sleep and secured without difficulty the whole of the male
passengers, pinioned them firmly, and then, after depriving them of such
weapons as they happened to possess, locked them up in their own cabins.
The ladies were only disturbed so far as was necessary to make them
acquainted with the fact that the ship had changed hands, and that, if
they had only the good sense to acquiesce in the arrangement, they would
be perfectly unmolested.  The cook and stewards were also called, and,
having been left in ignorance of the proposed mutiny lest they should
inadvertently let the secret slip, addressed in somewhat similar terms;
whereupon they at once declared their readiness to throw in their lot
with the mutineers, and were forthwith sworn in.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

Note 1.  The master of a merchant-ship is frequently spoken of by his
crew as "the old man," whether his years happen to be few or many.



CHAPTER SEVEN.

LIEUTENANT WALFORD FINDS HIMSELF IN AN EXCEEDINGLY UNPLEASANT POSITION.

On the morning following the seizure of the _Princess Royal_ by her
misguided crew, the day broke tardily, revealing to the mutineers a
wild, threatening sky, a high and increasing sea, the curling
foam-crests of which raced after the ship menacingly, and an unbroken
horizon all round.  Not a solitary sail of any description was visible;
they were alone, at the mercy of the towering mountain-surges, and of
the gale which howled deafeningly past them.  The sight which on that
morning presented itself from the poop of the crippled ship was one to
make the stoutest heart quail, to impress the onlooker with an
overpowering sense of his own insignificance compared with Him who holds
the ocean in the hollow of His hand, and of the blasphemous arrogance of
those who would presume to take upon themselves one of the functions of
the Almighty, and, in the blindness of their anger, attempt to mete out
to their fellow-men that justice which it is His alone to repay.

Yet no such idea presented itself to the mutineers; or, if it did, each
man was careful to conceal it from all the rest.  They had been
systematically down-trodden and ill-treated from the commencement of the
voyage; their lives had been made a burden to them; and now--having at
last been provoked into the throwing off of their yoke of insupportable
bondage--they thirsted for revenge upon the authors of their miseries.

As might be expected, the whole internal economy of the ship was upset
from the moment that she fell into the hands of the mutineers.  Their
first act, on the morning in question, was to transfer the male
passengers from the cabin to the forecastle, and to remove their own
belongings aft into the state-rooms thus rendered vacant.  The ladies,
of whom, fortunately, there were only half a dozen on board, were
permitted for the present to retain possession of their state-rooms,
being given to understand, however, that it was only upon the express
condition that they were to make no attempt whatever to meddle with the
arrangements of the mutineers, nor to communicate in any way with the
male passengers confined in the forecastle.

These arrangements completed, Rogers ordered the steward to prepare and
serve to the mutineers in the saloon the best breakfast that the
resources of the ship would allow; the passengers in the forecastle to
be served with such a meal as ordinarily fell to the lot of the seamen;
while the deposed captain and the two mates were to be left entirely
without food of any kind.  These orders were carried out to the letter;
the unfortunate ladies being compelled to take their seats as usual at
the breakfast table, and share the meal of the mutineers.

This being over, the table was cleared; spirits and tobacco were called
for, and Rogers, from his seat at the head of the saloon-table, gave
orders that the captain and the two mates should be brought aft, and put
upon their trial before a court of the whole crew.

"There's one more as I votes we try at the same time, and that's the
sodger-officer as got poor Dicky Rudd his flogging," observed one of the
men.

"Very well," assented Rogers, "bring him along, too, mates; I intended
to take him by hisself, but it don't matter; bring the whole four of
'em."

In a few minutes Captain Arnold, Nicholls the chief mate, and Thomson
the second mate, with Lieutenant Walford, were ushered into the saloon,
handcuffed, and guarded by eight armed mutineers.

"The prisoners is before the court," announced Talbot, in a loud voice,
anxious to make the proceedings partake as much of the character of a
ceremonial as possible.

The four men were then ordered to range themselves in line at the foot
of the table, an order which, after a little hesitation, they sullenly
obeyed.

Meanwhile, the mutineers, having been served with tobacco and brandy,
had lighted their pipes and provided themselves, each man, with a stiff
rummer of grog.  A cursory observer would possibly have thought the
scene grotesque; but the four men ranged at the foot of the table
speedily detected in the countenances of their self-constituted judges,
an expression of stern determination which caused their hearts to sink
and their cheeks to blanch with sudden fear.

A low-toned consultation now ensued between Rogers and those nearest
him, in which Talbot was summoned to take part.  At its conclusion the
latter withdrew a little apart, and Rogers, turning to the captain,
said--

"Robert Arnold, yours is the first case.  Who is the prosecutor?"

"I am," answered Talbot, "on behalf of the whole crew."

"Very good," acquiesced Rogers.  "Benjamin Talbot, state y'ur case."

Upon this, Talbot stepped up to the cabin-table and said--

"On behalf of the whole crew of this here ship--the _Princess Royal_--I
charges Robert Arnold, late skipper of the same, with havin' treated all
hands before the mast in a most onjustifiable manner.  As you're fully
aweer, shipmates, we was short-handed when we left London; and at
Plymouth the men-o'-war robbed us of four of our best hands, makin' us
more short-handed still.  Very well.  Now what's the dooty of a skipper
to his crew under such sarcumstances as this here?  Why, I say his dooty
is to make things as easy as possible for 'em.  Instead o' which this
here Robert Arnold, the prisoner as we're tryin', he goes and expects us
to do as much work, and to do it as smartly, as if the ship was fully
manned.  And because we couldn't do it--as it stands to reason we
couldn't--he goes and makes _extra_ work for us by way of punishment; he
robs us of our a'ternoon watch below; he stops our grog; he tyrannises
over us in every imaginable way; he treats us like dogs and not like
men, abusin' and bullyin' us, and goin' out of his way to hurt our
feelin's; he refuses to listen to our just complaints; he encourages the
first and second mates to sarve out to us the same sort of treatment as
he gives us hisself, instead of takin' our part and treatin' us with
justice; and he does all this not once in a way only, but from the very
commencement of the v'yage.  And, lastly, he orders a sick man to be
flogged; laughs at the poor chap's sufferin's; and refuses to sarve out
the necessaries to dress his wounds a'terwards.  That, shipmates, is the
charge I brings against Robert Arnold."

"You hears the charge agin the prisoner, shipmates all?" observed
Rogers, glancing round the table.  "Ben Talbot brings this here charge
in the name of all hands; so, if there's any of yer as disagrees with
what he've said, just stand up like men and say so."

A profound silence followed, no man making the slightest sign or token
of dissent.  "Very well," resumed Rogers; "nobody don't seem to have
anything to say agin the charge.  Now, you that _agrees_ with Talbot,
and thinks as he've stated the case fairly, hold up y'ur hands."

Every hand was at once and unhesitatingly raised at arm's length.

"Unanermous," pronounced Rogers.  "Now, Robert Arnold, you've heard
what's been charged agin yer, and you've seen that all hands of us
agrees that the charge is just.  What have yer got to say in y'ur
defence?"

"Nothing," answered the captain; "except that I utterly disclaim your
right to sit in judgment upon me or to criticise my actions in any
manner whatsoever.  Your conduct is in the last degree illegal and
unjustifiable.  You are a pack of mutinous scoundrels; and I warn you
that a terrible punishment will surely overtake you if you persist in
your defiance of my authority.  If, however, you will return to your
duty and deliver up to us, your duly appointed officers, the ringleaders
in this disgraceful mutiny, I will undertake to overlook this most
serious offence, so far as the rest of you are concerned."

"You hear what the prisoner says, shipmates," observed Rogers calmly.
"Do you consider as he've made good his defence?  Is it your opinion as
he've justified hisself?  Them as thinks he have, hold up their hands.
Them as thinks he haven't, stand up."

The self-constituted judges with one accord rose to their feet.

"That'll do; you may sit down agin," remarked Rogers.  "The prisoner is
found _guilty_.  The next question to be settled is the matter of
punishment.  Now, there's a many ways of punishing a man, some on 'em
more severe than others.  The most severest as I knows is _death_; death
by hangin' from the yard-arm.  Them as thinks the prisoner Arnold
deservin' of this punishment, hold up their hands."

Two or three hands were hesitatingly raised, and, after a slight pause,
lowered again.

"Do I understand as _everybody_ thinks hangin' too severe?" inquired
Rogers, glancing slowly round the table.  "I do,"--as no hands were
shown.  "Well then, let's try something else.  Perhaps, shipmates, some
of yer's got a hidee as you'd like to put afore the court?  If so, let's
hear what it is."

"I thinks as it would be no more nor he desarves if we was to treat him
for the rest of the v'yage as he've treated us from the beginnin' of it.
He'd know then what it's like, and if he lives long enough to get the
command of another ship, maybe he'll then know better how to treat his
crew," observed one of the men.

"Not at all a bad idee," commented Rogers.  "You've heard what Phil
says; what d'ye think on't?"

"I thinks it's a capical notion," remarked one.

"I'm agreeable," intimated another.

"Ay; let's see how he likes that sort of thing hisself," remarked a
third.

And so on; all hands intimating their concurrence in the suggestion.

"Wery good," remarked Rogers, when all had spoken.  Then, turning to the
captain, he said--

"Robert Arnold, the sentence of this here court is that you'm to be
turned for'ard and conwerted into a `hordinary seaman,' to do a
hordinary seaman's dooties, and to receive just exactly the same
treatment as you've sarved out to the hands since this here ship sailed
from Hold England, namely, more kicks than ha'pence.  And the Lord have
mercy on yer miserable carcase!"

He paused for a moment on concluding this--in his opinion--impressive
address, and then ordered that Arnold should be removed to the
forecastle, and the chief mate brought forward.

This was done, and as Nicholls, the chief mate, stepped forward in
answer to his name, his ashy pale face, his trepidation of manner, and
his imperfect articulation all showed him to be labouring under a very
agony of fear.

The charge against him was also preferred by Talbot in pretty much the
same language as was used by that individual in his charge against the
captain; the accusation in the present case, however, being to the
effect that Nicholls, occupying as he did the influential post of chief
mate, had, instead of using his influence with the captain to make
matters as agreeable as possible for the men, countenanced, aided,
abetted, and encouraged his superior in the adoption of a harsh and
tyrannical course of conduct.  Upon this charge he was found guilty; and
his sentence was similar to that of the captain's, with the addition
that he was to receive at the gangway twenty-five lashes, well laid on.

Thomson, the second mate, was now called forward; and the yell of
fiendish delight which greeted him as the bully staggered up to the
cabin-table, fairly caused his teeth to chatter with affright.

The charge against him was made by Talbot, who plunged eagerly into his
task with a manifest gusto which had been well suppressed in the
previous cases.  The indictment was very similar to that preferred
against Nicholls; but, in addition to all that the latter had been
charged with, Talbot rapidly enumerated a long list of wanton cruelties
and petty tyrannies which had sprung spontaneously and unprompted as it
were from the second mate's own evil nature.  At the conclusion of
Talbot's address the men, without waiting for Rogers to formally charge
them, sprang eagerly to their feet and clamorously declared the prisoner
guilty.

The question of punishment was then referred to by Rogers; and the
moment that he ceased to speak, the shout of "Death!  Death!  Hanging
from the yard-arm," rang through the cabin.  "And let him have five
dozen at the gangway before he's strung up, just by way of payin' off
Dicky Rudd's debt with interest," added a voice.  The suggestion was
carried by acclamation; and the miserable man was informed that the
sentence against him would be carried into effect at the conclusion of
the trial of the fourth prisoner, Lieutenant Walford, who was now
commanded to stand forward.

Walford stepped up to the cabin-table with an assumption of firmness
which was completely belied by the ghastly pallor of his countenance and
the convulsive twitching of his white lips.  Grasping the table with
both hands, he said in a voice which he in vain attempted to render
steady--

"Before you proceed any further in this matter I wish to remind you that
I am merely a _passenger_ on board this ship, and that I have nothing
whatever to do with any quarrel which may exist between you and your
officers.  I have heard the charges which you have preferred against
them, and I am wholly at a loss to understand in what way you associate
me with them; you can scarcely suppose, I imagine, that the passengers
would regard themselves as called upon to interfere in the management or
discipline of the ship; for my own part, I have always considered you
quite able to manage your own affairs, and quite capable of putting a
stop to any injustice to which you might be subjected; you never
appealed to me for help, and you therefore ought not to be surprised if
I have held aloof."

He paused here for a moment and glanced anxiously round the table to
note the effect of his address, and seeing, by the stern expression on
the faces of the men seated at the table, that he had wholly failed to
make a favourable impression, he hastily proceeded to add--

"Furthermore, let me remind you that I am an officer and a gentleman,
the wearer of his Most Gracious Majesty's uniform, and in virtue of that
fact I may claim--I _do_ claim--to be in some sort his Majesty's
representative, on board this ship.  Any violence or indignity offered
to me, therefore, is tantamount to offering the same to the king
himself; and, as you are all fully aware, to offer indignity or violence
to the king's person is high treason, a crime punishable with death.  I
hope, therefore, that you will pause and consider well the consequences
of any hasty action which your present temporary assumption of power
might betray you into, and that, before it is too late, and before you
have too deeply inculpated yourselves, you will see the advisability of
restoring to me my freedom."

If he expected this appeal to be of any benefit to him he was sorely
disappointed, for the gloomy, repellent expression on the faces of his
judges, was only deepened by his ill-advised address.

A moment or two of complete silence followed the utterance of his
closing words; and then Rogers, looking him straight in the face, said--

"Well, pris'ner, have yer quite finished?"

"Surely I have said sufficient to demonstrate to you the impolicy, as
well as the injustice, of making me suffer for the faults of others?"
exclaimed Walford.

"Glad you think so," replied Rogers, with a sardonic grin.  "Howsoever,"
he continued, "you may keep y'ur mind easy about one thing; we ain't
goin' to make yer `suffer for the faults of others,' as you calls it;
you'll only be made to suffer for faults of y'ur own; and bad enough
you'll find that, I reckon.  Now, Ben, what's the charge agin this one?"

"I charges him," answered Talbot, "with havin' wilfully spoke the words
what got poor Dicky Rudd two dozen lashes at the gangway, when the poor
feller was 'most too sick to stand upright.  If he hadn't spoke as
likely as not the skipper had never ha' thought of it, and, so far as
that goes, I believes that all hands of us is agreed that he wouldn't.
Therefore I charges this here pris'ner with bein' the man what acshully
got poor Dicky his floggin'."

"You hears, pris'ner, what the crew has against yer; what have yer got
to say to it?" interrogated Rogers.

Walford had evidently either forgotten all about his ill-advised
suggestion, or had believed the crew to be ignorant of it: he seemed to
have thought that the utmost extent of the mutineers' complaint against
him would be that he had not interfered in their behalf.  When therefore
he heard the charge against him, and realised the fact that he was
wholly in their power, and utterly at their mercy, his courage--which at
the best of times was only of a very flimsy and unreliable character--
utterly gave way; he involuntarily turned his eyes for a moment upon the
miserable second mate; recalled the fact that the wretched man had been
doomed to a speedy and degrading death by the same individuals who were
now sitting in judgment upon him; and a shameful panic took possession
of him.  An uncontrollable shivering fit seized his frame, he was
obliged to clench his teeth together, to prevent them from chattering
audibly; he glanced wildly round him as if seeking for some means of
escape; and, after two or three ineffectual efforts to speak, he managed
to gasp out brokenly through his clenched teeth and quivering lips--

"I--I--I give you--my--my sacred word of honour, gen-gentlemen, that I
was o-only in--jest.  I nev-never believed for a--a moment that
Cap-t-tain Arnold would t-take my remark seriously, or I as-sure you I
would n-n-ever have uttered it.  And besides, I re-real-ly believed that
your--friend R-R-udd was--was only sh-h--er--ah--I beg your pardon
gentlemen, I sc-scarcely know what I am saying, but--oh, gentlemen I
don't be hard upon me--have mercy upon me, for God's sake!  Spare my
life, and you may do with me what you will."

He ceased, from sheer physical inability to utter another word, and,
sinking upon his knees, stretched forth his quaking hands in a mute
appeal for mercy.

This disgraceful exhibition of cowardice was _almost_ successful in
winning for Walford an ignominious release.  The mutineers were so
unutterably disgusted that, for a moment, their impulse was to kick him
out of the cabin like a craven hound and henceforward ignore his
existence.  But this impulse lasted only for a moment; they recalled to
mind the insolent arrogance with which this same cowering creature had
treated them when he deemed himself secure from retaliation; and they
determined that, while his miserable life was not worth the taking, he
should still receive so salutary a lesson as should effectually deter
him from any repetition of the offence for the remainder of his life.

"Well, shipmates," exclaimed Rogers, breaking the painful silence which
had followed Walford's shameful appeal, "what d'ye think?  Is the
pris'ner guilty or not guilty?"

"_Guilty_!" was the unanimous declaration of the assembly.

"Guilty?  In course he is.  And what's the punishment to be?  Death?"

"Oh, no!  Not death--not death, gentlemen.  For the love of God, spare
my life; I am not fit to die; I am not indeed.  You see how young a man
I am; why, I have never yet thought about dying.  Mercy! mercy!"
shrieked the miserable wretch as he grovelled on his knees before them,
and sought to clasp the knees of the man nearest him--an attempt which
was repulsed with an oath, a look of unutterable loathing, a kick, and a
brutal blow on the mouth.

"Come, lads, speak up," urged Rogers, wholly unmoved by the
interruption, "say what the punishment's to be, and let's have done with
it.  I'm sick of this here, I am."

"Well," said Talbot, stepping forward, "I wotes that the prisoner be
first made to go and axe poor Dicky's pardon.  If he can't get it, why,
let's string him up at the yard-arm to balance t'other one.  But if
Dicky likes to forgi'e him, well, we'll spare his life and redooce his
punishment to two dozen at the gangway--same as he got for Rudd--and
make him do Rudd's dooty 'til the poor chap's better; arter which the
prisoner can be set to do all the dirty work o' the ship.  How's that,
shipmates?"

"Ay, ay, Ben; that'll do, bo', that'll do fust-rate.  And he may thank
his lucky stars at bein' let off so precious easy," was Rogers' reply;
in which the remainder of the men laughingly acquiesced.

"Then you'd better step this way at once, young feller," remarked Talbot
to the miserable Walford, "and see what you can do with poor Dicky.  If
he won't forgive yer, mind, it's all up with yer."

So saying he opened the door of the state-room in which Rudd was lying,
thrust his victim into the apartment, and closed the door upon him.

The state-room into which Walford was thus unceremoniously ushered was
divided from the saloon by a bulkhead with a door in it, the upper panel
of which was fitted with sloping slats like those of the Venetian
window-blinds of the present day; it was perfectly easy, therefore, for
an occupant of the state-room to hear all that passed in the saloon, and
_vice versa_.  As a matter of fact, Rudd, who was lying in his berth,
broad awake, _had_ heard every word uttered during the course of the
trial, and shrewdly suspecting that his shipmates were more anxious to
thoroughly frighten than to actually hurt their fourth prisoner, and
having, moreover, a trifling personal grudge against the man who had
secured for him his flogging, he determined to have a little amusement
at Walford's expense before according to him the pardon which he knew
his shipmates expected of him.  When, therefore, Walford staggered up to
the side of the berth, and began eagerly and incoherently to stammer
forth the most abject apologies and the wildest prayers for forgiveness,
Rudd simply growled forth an oath and impatiently flung himself over in
the berth with his back to the petitioner.  This had the intended effect
of causing Walford's apologies and prayers to be reiterated with
increased eagerness and incoherence, to the hearty amusement of the men
in the saloon.

At length Talbot opened the state-room door, and, thrusting in his head,
said roughly--

"Here, come out of that, mister; you've worried poor Dicky quite long
enough.  If he won't forgive yer, why, he _won't_, and that settles it.
You've had a fair chance to see what you could do with him, and you've
failed; we decided to give yer a quarter of a hour, and the time's up;
so out you comes; d'ye hear?"

The next moment Walford was seized by the collar, and was being dragged
roughly enough out of the state-room, when Rudd, pretending to relent,
called out--

"There, take him away, Ben; but don't be too hard on him; I forgives him
just this once, and I hopes he won't never do it again."

Walford, upon hearing these words, which seemed to him a reprieve from
the very jaws of death, broke away from Talbot's grasp, and, rushing
back to the side of the berth, seized Rudd's hand, kissed it wildly, and
burst into an uncontrollable passion of tears, in the midst of which he
was hustled unceremoniously out on deck.



CHAPTER EIGHT.

A DOUBLE TRAGEDY.

A moment or two in the open air sufficed to settle in some measure
Walford's disordered faculties and to restore to him his reason, of
which he had been pretty nearly bereft by the terror of the preceding
half-hour.

He found himself in the midst of the--by this time--more than
half-intoxicated seamen, none of whom appeared to be paying much
attention to him, for they were all talking loudly together, discussing
and arranging the details of the punishment of those whom they chose to
regard as the two chief offenders.

The men were all greatly excited by the potations in which they had
freely indulged during the mockery of a trial in the saloon, and their
differences of opinion on some points were so strong that at one moment
the proceedings seemed more than likely to be diversified by a pitched
battle.  Rogers, however, whose head seemed capable of resisting the
effects of almost any amount of liquor, interposed between the
belligerents, and by a determined exercise of his newly-acquired
authority, and by most frightful threats of the chastisement which he
personally would inflict on the first man who ventured to disobey him,
succeeded at length in restoring some semblance of order.  This
achieved, he ordered a grating to be rigged in the larboard gangway, and
that, when this was done, the chief mate should be seized thereto.

His orders were speedily carried out; and when the man Nicholls,
stripped to the waist, was firmly lashed to the grating in readiness to
receive his punishment, Rogers ordered that the second mate should be
brought to him.

The miserable Thomson was thereupon led before him, and a more wretched
spectacle than this man presented it would be difficult to find.  His
old blustering, bullying, overbearing manner had completely deserted
him; the fear of death was upon him; and he shivered like a man in an
ague-fit.

"You Thomson," said Rogers, addressing him in a calm matter-of-fact tone
of voice, as if what he was about to say had reference only to some
trifling everyday affair, "you was present at the trial of that man
Nicholls as stands seized up to yonder grating, and you knows the
punishment as it was decided for to give him.  It was five and twenty
lashes, well laid on; you hears that, _well laid on_.  Wery good.  Now,
this here same man Nicholls, it seems to me, is in a sort o' way to
blame for getting _you_ into your trouble.  If he'd been a proper sort
of man, understandin' that he owed a dooty to the _crew_ as well as to
the owners of the ship, instead of encouraging you in your goin's-on
agin us, he'd have took you o' one side, and he'd ha' said to you, `Look
here, Thomson, my good feller, you mustn't be too hard upon them poor
sailor-men for'ard; you knows as they don't muster a full-handed crew,
and so it don't stand to reason as they can do so much as if they _was_
full-handed; they're a decent enough willin' lot of men, and we mustn't
axe too much from 'em.  Just keep that in mind, and make things as easy
as you can for 'em.'  If he'd been a proper sort of man, I say, he'd
have said some'at of that sort to you, now wouldn't he?  And you'd have
listened to him, and then you wouldn't have been in this here precious
scrape as you're in now, would you?"

"You're right, Rogers; I should not," eagerly exclaimed Thomson, his
eyes lighting up with a gleam of fresh hope, as he thought he detected
in the boatswain's speech some signs of relenting.  "If Mr Nicholls had
only put the matter to me as you have just now put it, I should never
have given a single man of you the slightest reason for complaint
against me.  But he never did anything of the kind; on the contrary,
both he and Captain Arnold encouraged me to believe you an idle,
worthless lot of scamps, and to treat you as such.  And that is the
plain, simple truth, I swear it."

"Wery good," commented Rogers.  "Then, you see, Thomson, you and us
thinks alike, namely, that Nicholls in a kind of a sort of a way led you
into this here miserable scrape.  That bein' the case, we thinks it'll
be only fair if _you_ gives him the twenty-five lashes--_well laid on_--
that the court have condemned him to receive."

Thomson looked eagerly into the face of the boatswain, hoping that in
this proposal he saw a commutation of his death-sentence.  Rogers
returned the gaze with a look of grim satisfaction, which the second
mate mistook for a half-drunken leer of benevolence; and, anxious above
all things to propitiate this man, who undoubtedly held the power of
life and death in his hands, he excitedly exclaimed--

"I'll do it!  Give me the cat, and you shall have _no_ cause to complain
of the way in which I will execute your sentence."

"All right; that's a bargain," agreed Rogers.  Then, turning to the rest
of the mutineers, he ordered them to fetch all hands on deck to witness
punishment, "All hands exceptin' the ladies, I mean; they'd be shocked
at the sight, pretty dears, and we must take care as they don't see nor
hear nothin' as'd shock 'em, sweet, delicate creeturs," he added with a
contemptuous laugh, which was echoed by his comrades as they staggered
forward to drag the male passengers on deck.

In a few minutes these were all mustered, Walford contriving, seemingly
without attracting attention, to mingle with them and take up an
unobtrusive position, from which he intended, if possible, to quietly
effect a retreat at the first convenient opportunity.

When all was at length ready, the scene which presented itself was a
sufficiently curious one.

The chief object of the picture was, of course, the figure of the
unhappy chief mate, who, naked to the waist, stood firmly lashed to the
grating, with arms and legs wide spread in the orthodox attitude of a
man about to be flogged.  Opposite him, and some four or five feet
distant, stood Thomson, his coat and vest laid aside, his shirt-sleeves
rolled above his elbows, and the cat in his hand, with the knotted tails
prone upon the deck.  Around these two figures, in a compact ring, stood
the gentlemen passengers and the captain of the ship, a group of
unwilling spectators of the outrage about to be inflicted; whilst
outside them again, and completely hemming them in beyond all
possibility of escape, crowded the half-drunken mutineers, armed to the
teeth, and bandying brutal and obscene jests back and forth.  Then there
was the huge bulk of the disabled ship, surging madly forward like a
hunted creature dizzy and reeling with terror, her spacious decks
knee-deep in the water which was incessantly pouring in over her
bulwarks as she rolled gunwale-under; and for a background the
mountainous seas careering swiftly past, with their lofty crests
towering high and menacingly all round the ship, and the leaden-hued,
stormy sky.

The deep and painful silence which prevailed was broken by Rogers' harsh
voice remarking--

"Now, Thomson, you knows your dooty, which is to give the pris'ner on
the gratin' five and twenty lashes, _well laid on_.  So go ahead, my
man, and let's see if you can't make him yell a bit louder than you did
poor Dicky Rudd."

Thomson glanced at the speaker and nodded.  The hope which he
entertained of an eventual escape from death had thrown him into a state
of terrible excitement, bordering almost upon madness; his ghastly
pallor had vanished, and was now superseded by a deep purplish tinge,
resulting from the violent rush of blood to the head; the veins upon his
forehead stood out like cords, his eyes glowed like those of a wild
animal, and his jaws were flecked with foam streaked with blood, which
trickled from a wound in his lower lip, where in his terrible excitement
he had unconsciously bitten it through.

This frenzied creature nodded his comprehension of Rogers' command, and,
gathering himself up like an animal about to make a spring, he drew the
tails of the cat slowly through his closed left hand, measured his
distance carefully, and, making a quick bound forward, brought the nine
knotted lashes down upon the mate's naked shoulders with a demoniac
strength which seemed to literally bury them in the quivering flesh.
The mate responded to this with a sharp yell, which was greeted by the
mutineers with mocking laughter, Rogers remarking to Thomson that, "That
was pretty well; but, you know, you can do a deal better'n that."  The
second stroke--but why go further with the description of the sickening
scene?  Let it suffice to say that when the inanimate body of the mate
was cast loose from the grating, it bore the appearance of having been
mangled by the teeth and claws of some savage beast rather than by a
human being.

"So far, so good," observed Rogers.  "That ends act the first.  Now,
Thomson, it's your turn, you know.  Strip, my boy, without makin' any
bones about it; and let's see if you can take y'ur punishment any
better'n your superior hossifer."

The man spoke in a rallying tone of such geniality that Thomson grew
more sanguine than ever as to the remission of the more serious part of
his sentence, and, with a ghastly grin in response to Rogers'
patronising smile, he began to slowly strip.  He even, after drawing his
shirt over his head, summoned the courage to walk up to the grating,
and, leaning his body upon it, to spontaneously stretch out his arms and
legs to the proper position.

When the wretched man was securely "spread-eagled" on the grating,
Talbot and another man were ordered to step forward and administer the
flogging, which they did, relieving each other at the completion of
every dozen lashes, until the entire fifty had been inflicted.  The
punishment was terribly severe; but the intense excitement under which
the second mate laboured enabled him to retain his consciousness
throughout, and even to stand without assistance on being cast loose.  A
stiff "reviver" of grog was administered to him by Rogers' order, and he
was then told to dress himself.

The critical moment was now at hand when the miserable Thomson's state
of torturing suspense was to cease, when he would know for certain
whether these men were actually relentless, or whether, having already
wreaked an ample vengeance upon him, they would be content to ignore the
remainder of his sentence; which, after all, he was more than
half-inclined to believe was nothing but a cruel hoax, arranged
beforehand for the purpose of giving him a good fright.

Hopeful as he was, however, upon this score, he could not help feeling
terribly anxious; and it was with the utmost difficulty that he
controlled his quaking nerves sufficiently to replace his clothing
without assistance.  During the time that he was thus engaged, the
circle which hemmed him in was maintained unbroken; the mutineers
watching his motions with strong interest, and indulging freely in
jocular comments and jeering encouragement as he winced and shrank at
the chafe of his clothing on his lacerated back and shoulders.

At length he stood once more before them, fully clothed, his eyes
glowing like carbuncles, his visage blanched, and his whole frame
quivering with pain and the tensity of excitement and suspense.

"Wery good, Thomson; wery good indeed," remarked Rogers approvingly;
"you've showed a great deal more pluck than any of us have ever give you
credit for--so far.  If you only behaves as well for the next ten
minutes, we shall feel quite a respec' for y'ur mem'ry.  Now, shipmates,
and pris'ners all, for'ard we goes, to carry out the second part of the
sentence."

At the word, two of the mutineers stepped forward, and, placing
themselves one on each side of the second mate, linked their arms in his
and led him forward, halting him just beneath the fore-yard; the
remainder of the crowd following in a body and forming in a circle round
him as before.  Then, at Rogers' command, one of the mutineers separated
himself from the main body, and in the course of a minute or two was
seen leisurely ascending the fore-rigging with a tail-block in one hand
and the end of a coil of light line in the other.

Thomson glanced upward at this man, and like a lightning-stroke the
conviction flashed upon him that his doom _was_ indeed sealed--that the
death-sentence passed upon him was no grim and ghastly piece of
jocularity, no hoax practised upon him to test his courage, but that it
was spoken in cruel and bitter earnest.  For a second or two his heart
stood still, his head swam, his sight failed him, and a feeling of
horrible nausea oppressed him.  He realised at last that he was about to
die; that, standing there on that reeling deck as he did in the full
strength and prime of lusty manhood, with all his energies mental and
physical at their best, the sands of his life had so nearly run out that
the few last grains were even now falling in the hour-glass of his fate.
Then, in a single instant, the whole of his past life rose up before
him, with every thought, word, and deed clearly and sharply reproduced.
And, as it did so, the present world and all its concerns, its petty
aspirations, ambitions, hopes, and strivings, dwindled away into the
most contemptible insignificance; his mental vision cleared; he saw how
full had been his life of great and noble possibilities--as are the
lives of all of us, would we but allow ourselves to see that it is so--
and he saw, too, how completely he had missed his mark; how very far his
own evil passions had led him astray from the narrow and seldom-trodden
path which, faithfully followed, leads to that highest possible
attainment of humanity--True Goodness.

Ah! how bitterly he repented him then of all his lost, or rather his
cast-away, opportunities.  From his earliest youth he had chosen to
follow evil rather than good; he had turned persistently away from the
right; and now there was neither time nor opportunity left him for
reparation.  The utter blankness and uselessness of his life stood
revealed to him as one long, unbroken, unanswerable accusation; and, in
his mad despair, he suddenly dashed aside the two men who held him in
their custody, sprang with a single bound to the rail, and, placing his
hands upon the top of the topgallant-bulwark, vaulted clear over it
before a single hand could be outstretched to restrain him, and with a
yell which evermore rang in the ears of those who heard it, threw up his
hands and vanished for ever into the dark and terrible depths of his
ocean-grave.

The little crowd of spectators stood for a few moments silent and almost
stupefied at this sudden and tragic disappearance of the second mate
from their midst.  The occurrence was so totally unexpected that it in a
measure sobered the mutineers, who regarded each other with some such
expression as that of a group of school-boys terrified at the sudden
occurrence of some disaster, the result of their own mischievous acts,
and each anxious to shift the blame and responsibility from his own
shoulders to those of the others.

The first to recover his self-possession was Rogers, who exclaimed with
an obviously forced laugh--

"Well, curse me if that ain't a good un!  What, in the name of all
that's foolish, made the man do that?  He might ha' _knowed_ as we was
only goin' to frighten him a bit.  You'll bear me out, shipmates, that
we was all agreed to go no further than the frightenin' of him a bit,
and meant to let him off arter we'd made fast the rope, and let him
stand with it round his neck a minute or two.  Now, ain't them there the
facts o' the case?"

"Ay, ay, Ned; you're right, bo'; that's just exactly how't was," was the
reply.

"Nevertheless," answered Captain Arnold sternly, "you are as much
murderers, every one of you, as if you had hanged the man--as you seemed
about to do--or had taken him up and flung him over the side with your
own hands.  You _drove_ him to his death; his blood is upon your hands;
and you will individually be called upon to answer for your accursed
deed, if not in this world, certainly in the next."

The men cowered like whipped hounds before the captain's denunciation,
which they knew in their inmost souls to be just; for an instant they
stood appalled before the awful conviction that they were indeed
_murderers_, none the less guilty because their crime was unintentional;
and, but for the swift intervention of Rogers, they would there and
then, in their horror and remorse, have yielded up possession of the
ship, and returned to their duty.  But the boatswain, taking in at a
glance the critical state of affairs, and fully realising his own
perilous position as the ring-leader in the mutiny, rallied his men by
exclaiming--

"There now, belay all that, you Arnold; we wants none of _your_
preachin', and, what's more, we won't have it.  And, shipmates, don't
you take no notice of what he says; we never _meant_ to take the second
mate's life; we'd ha' stopped him from drownin' hisself if we could; and
so it's just all gammon to talk about our bein' his--his--murderers.
Now march the pris'ners down into the fo'c's'le again; clap the bilboes
on 'em; shut down the scuttle upon 'em; and then come aft into the
cabin, all hands, and we'll `freshen the nip.'"

This proposal to "freshen the nip"--or take another glass or two of
grog--was eagerly welcomed by the mutineers, who felt that they _must_
have something to dispel those qualms of conscience which so greatly
disturbed them; and in another quarter of an hour they were all--with
the exception of two men at the wheel and one on the poop, who was
supposed to be acting as lookout--once more assembled round the
saloon-table, busily endeavouring to drown their sense of guilt in a
flood of liquor.

The ladies--who had long before effected a retreat to their own
state-rooms, where they had locked themselves in--were for some time
allowed to remain unmolested; but when the libations in which the
mutineers liberally indulged had at last achieved their desired effect,
and the spirits of the men began to rise, one of the most reckless of
them proposed that the ladies should be invited to grace the revel with
their presence.  The proposal was received with acclamation, and the
unhappy women were forthwith ordered into the saloon.  The poor
terrified creatures at first made no response, hoping that if no notice
were taken of them the intoxicated mutineers would forget all about
them, and leave them in peace.  But this hope was of short duration, for
the mutineers, drinking deep and rapidly, soon grew excited, and,
finding their repeated demands of no avail, staggered to their feet,
and, breaking open the state-room doors, dragged forth their victims,
compelling them to seat themselves at the same table and partake with
them of the liquor with which it was bountifully supplied.  The scene
which followed is simply too shameful for detailed description.  The
men, inflamed by drink and rendered reckless by a feeling which none of
them could entirely shake off--that they had already offended past all
forgiveness--speedily grew more and more outrageous in their behaviour,
until the orgie became one of such unbridled licence that one of the
ladies--the young and lovely wife of one of the passengers imprisoned in
the forecastle--in her desperation drew a pistol from the belt of the
man nearest her, and, quickly cocking it, placed the muzzle to her
breast, pulled the trigger, and sank upon the saloon floor a corpse,
shot through the heart.

This second fatality, more sudden if possible than the first, brought
the unholy revel to an abrupt conclusion; the mutineers, thoroughly
horrified at the occurrence, notwithstanding their drunken condition,
staggering to their feet with one accord, and making the best of their
way out on deck, where they sought to sober themselves by plunging their
heads into buckets of water.

Having to some extent succeeded in this endeavour, they next bethought
themselves of the desirability of putting the ship to rights.  It was
still blowing very heavily, and the sea was higher than ever--
dangerously so indeed, as the ship had more than once narrowly escaped
being pooped--but the sky looked a trifle less wild than before, and the
glass was rising.  Rogers therefore determined, as a first step, to get
up a new foresail, bend, and set it.  The sail-room was accordingly
opened, and then, in pursuance of their resolution to do as little work
as possible themselves, the prisoners in the forecastle were brought up
on deck, and ordered, first to rouse out the sail, and then to go aloft
and bend it.  This the unfortunate passengers, aided and directed by the
captain, at length accomplished, though it was at the imminent risk of
their lives, the violent motion of the ship momentarily threatening to
send them--unaccustomed as they were to such work--whirling off the yard
into the sea.  The sail being bent, it was loosed and set, close-reefed;
after which the disabled ship not only steered more easily, but also
became more steady; all further danger, too, of being pooped was at an
end.

The spare spars were next cast adrift, and preparations made for getting
new topmasts on end as soon as the weather should moderate sufficiently;
and thus passed that eventful day.

Walford was soon found to be so exceedingly timid when aloft, that he
was not only of no use there, he was absolutely a clog and hindrance to
the efforts of the others; he was accordingly relegated to the
ignominious post of cook's mate, in which an abundance of the dirtiest
work was carefully provided for him.

On the second day after his assumption of his new duties, this
unfortunate individual, while engaged in the task of getting up coals
from the fore-peak, was unlucky enough to capsize the lamp which he was
using, and so set the ship on fire.  Instead of giving the alarm
instantly, as he ought to have done, he rushed on deck with the
intention of getting some buckets of water, and endeavouring to
extinguish the fire unaided.  No sooner, however, did he make his
appearance than he was hustled peremptorily off by the cook upon another
errand; and when he returned, a quarter of an hour later, the forecastle
was all ablaze, and the smoke just beginning to curl up through the
scuttle.

Then indeed he shouted "Fire!" with all his might, and at the terrible
cry all hands rushed forward, to find the alarm only too true.

In the first mad hurry and confusion, no one seemed to think of
inquiring how the fire had originated; and Walford was beginning to
congratulate himself that, whatever happened, his complicity would not
be suspected, when Talbot, happening to run up against him, stopped
abruptly, and exclaimed--

"Ha! you lubber, I saw _you_ creeping up and down the forecastle ladder
just now, as gingerly as a cat walking upon hot bricks--you ought to
know something about this job--and by Jove you do, too; I can see it by
the blink of your eyes--so out with it, you long-shore lantern-jawed son
of a baked monkey."

To this elegant adjuration Walford began to stammer out an exculpatory
explanation, which, however, was abruptly nipped in the bud by the
boatswain's mate exclaiming--

"There, belay all that and coil up the slack of your jawing-tackle;
there's no time to talk now; tail on there and try to make yourself
useful.  But look out, my lad if this fire gets the upper hand of us;
curse me, if we don't leave you to roast in it."

A vigorous attack upon the fire was speedily organised, Rogers and
Talbot each taking command of a separate party, which they were careful
so to arrange that there should be no possibility of their prisoners
concerting together in a successful attempt to retake the ship.  So far,
however, as the passengers were concerned, they appeared to be far too
anxious to subdue the flames to have time for any other thought or
consideration.

All through the ensuing night this curiously-constituted party laboured
in their efforts to get the upper hand of the fire; but it had been
allowed to obtain too firm a hold upon the ship before the alarm was
given; much of the cargo was of a highly combustible nature, and though,
by the zeal and energy with which all hands worked, they succeeded to
some extent in retarding the progress of the flames, when day at length
broke, it became apparent to all that the ship was doomed.

When at last they were compelled, from sheer exhaustion, to desist for a
time from their long-continued and fatiguing efforts, the fact--which
had hitherto escaped their notice--became apparent that, happily, the
gale had blown itself out; the wind had already dropped considerably,
and the sea, though it was still very high, no longer broke in its
former dangerous and menacing fashion.

Upon seeing this, Rogers at once came to the determination not to waste
any further labour in the useless endeavour to save the ship, but to
devote all his energies to the getting of the boats safely into the
water.  The mutineers were by this time perfectly sober once more, and
having shaken off with their intoxication the recklessness which it had
engendered, they felt keenly anxious to escape the responsibility of any
further waste of human life.

But, as usual in such cases, their own escape, not only from the danger
of being burnt with the ship, but also from the punishment due to their
misdeeds, was of paramount importance with them.  Before commencing,
therefore, upon the difficult task of launching the boats, Rogers
informed his unfortunate prisoners that he was willing to give them a
couple of boats, with all necessary provisions and water, if they would
individually take a solemn oath never to reveal any of the circumstances
connected with the mutiny, nor to say or do anything which would place
the mutineers within the power of the law.  If they would do this, they
might have the boats; if not, he informed them that they would be left
on board the burning ship, and that the mutineers would take such
measures as would effectually preclude any possibility of escape.  Under
the circumstances the prisoners had no alternative but to comply, which
they did, and the launching of the boats was then vigorously proceeded
with.

This task, after an immense amount of difficulty, and two or three
exceedingly narrow escapes from the accident of having the boats stove
or swamped, was at length satisfactorily accomplished; after which no
time was lost in provisioning and manning them.

As soon as the boats were ready to receive them, the ladies were
summoned from the saloon to take their places therein.  The poor
creatures could hardly be persuaded, in their terror and distraction, to
leave even such inefficient protection as the saloon afforded them, so
great was their horror and repugnance at the idea of being brought once
more, even though it might be for ever so short a time, into the
presence and propinquity of the mutineers.  And when at length they
emerged from the saloon, and, standing upon the wet and slippery deck,
glanced first aloft at the splintered spars, the tattered remains of the
sails, and the ends and bights of rope streaming in the wind, then at
the great tongues of flame and clouds of smoke which enwrapped the
forepart of the ship, and, lastly, over the side at the boats tossing
like egg-shells upon the mountainous seas which swept hissing past,
their courage entirely failed them; and it was not until Rogers, growing
impatient at the delay, strode up to them and gave them the choice of
going instantly and without further ado over the side and into the
boats, or of being left behind altogether, that they could be persuaded
to essay the dangerous adventure.

At length, however, by the exercise of great care and circumspection on
the part of all concerned, the trans-shipment of the ladies was safely
effected, and then the gentlemen were ordered to go.  The husband of the
unhappy lady who had been so cruelly driven to suicide had been for some
time eagerly looking about for his wife, and, not seeing her, he at last
made inquiry of the other ladies as to her whereabouts.  His grief, when
the dreadful news of her death was gradually broken to him with all that
gentleness of which a woman's tender, loving heart alone is capable, was
something pitiful to witness; he rushed into the saloon, and entering
the state-room in which the poor lady's inanimate body had been
reverently deposited by her companions in misfortune, flung himself upon
his knees by the side of the berth, and uttered alternately the wildest
prayers that heaven would pardon her act of desperation, and the
bitterest curses upon the heads of those who had driven her to it.  It
was with the utmost difficulty that he was at last persuaded by Captain
Arnold to bid an eternal farewell to the beloved remains, and to join
the rest of the party in the boats allotted to them.

On hearing the order given for the gentlemen to pass down into the
boats, Walford mingled with the group and pressed quietly forward to the
gangway, having a vivid remembrance of Talbot's terrible threat, and not
caring to remind him of it by a too obtrusive exhibition of his anxiety
to escape.  But in consequence of the still heavy run of the sea,
several of the mutineers--both Rogers and Talbot being among them--were
assisting at the transfer; and when Walford's turn came to pass down
over the side, he was summarily ordered back by the boatswain's mate,
who gruffly exclaimed, as his eye fell upon the quaking lieutenant--

"Here, you! stand back, will yer?  Your turn ain't come yet."

Walford at once fell back, in a state of most painful trepidation, but
still hopeful that he would be allowed to go with the rest.  When all
the passengers but himself, however, had passed down the side, the order
was given for them to cast off, which they at once did, ignorant or
forgetful of the fact that one of their number still remained behind.
Walford was about to rush to the gangway, and hail the fast receding
boat, when the ever-watchful Talbot caught him by the collar, and flung
him from him with an "Ah! would yer," and a kick which sent the
unfortunate officer sprawling upon the deck.

It was now the turn of the mutineers to take to the boats, and it was
not long before they stood in the gangway, each with the bag containing
his few belongings in his hand, waiting to be passed in turn down over
the side.  Rogers rapidly ran his eye over them, satisfied himself that
everybody was present, and then began to call out their names in the
order in which they were to leave the ship.  When one boat had received
its complement and shoved off, Walford once more pressed forward, half
wild with anxiety now, and begged in piteous terms that he might not be
left on board, as now seemed to be the actual determination of the
mutineers.  Upon this Talbot lost all patience with him, and, seizing
him once more by the collar, thrust him before him into the saloon,
exclaiming as he did so--

"Now look here, you meddlesome young jackanapes, there's been enough
blood spilt on board this ship already--chiefly in consekence of your
havin' shoved in your oar where it weren't wanted, and advisin' the
skipper to flog a sick man--and I don't want to have to shed any more,
you understand?  Wery well, then; you stay in here until that there
clock have marked off a good half-hour; arter that you may come out and
do the best you can for yourself; there's plenty o' spars knockin' about
the decks here, which you can lash together, and make a tip-top raft out
of 'em, upon which you can go for a cruise on your own account; but if
you shows your ugly head outside this here cabin before the half-hour's
out, damn me if I won't lash your neck and heels together, and heave you
into the middle of the fire there for'ard.  Comprenny?"

So saying, he coolly shifted the key from the inside to the outside of
the saloon-door, slammed the latter, turned the key, and then the
wretched Walford heard the heavy tramp of his footsteps upon the deck
rapidly growing fainter and more faint as he walked away.



CHAPTER NINE.

DRIVEN TO MADNESS.

As the key turned in the lock, Walford sank down in a state of
semi-stupefaction upon one of the saloon sofas, listening like one in a
dream to the distant sound of the men's voices and the occasional tramp
of feet, as the mutineers passed, one by one, down the ship's side into
the boats.  A few minutes more and these sounds ceased.  He lifted up
his head, listening eagerly; but he could hear nothing, save the dismal
creaking of the bulkheads, the moaning of the wind, the monotonous
_swish, swish_ of the water washing across the deck outside with the
roll of the ship, and the dull hum and crackling of the flames as they
slowly ate their destructive way further and further into the heart of
the doomed craft.

"Were they actually gone?" he asked himself.  "Was it possible that he
was left alone, absolutely _alone_ on that burning wreck, thousands of
miles from the nearest land, drifting he knew not whither at the mercy
of wind and wave, with no hope of rescue and with the certainty that in
a day or two at most the fabric which bore him would be so completely
enveloped in the flames kindled by his own clumsiness that it would no
longer be tenable, and the only alternative open to him would be that of
perishing in the fire or flinging himself into the sea, there to battle
despairingly for an extra hour or two of life?"  He could not believe
it, he _would_ not believe it possible that men could be found so
inhuman as to leave a fellow-mortal in so desperate a strait; they were
only trying him, as they had tried that poor fellow Thomson; and if he
would but have patience to wait until the stipulated half-hour had
passed, he would find them still there, waiting to receive him into the
boat.  He laughed aloud, as he thought what a fool he had been to allow
himself to be terrified even for a moment, but the laugh was so utterly
the reverse of mirthful, so harsh and ghastly, that he stopped abruptly,
startled by the hideous strangeness of the sounds.  Then he rose and
crept on tip-toe towards the saloon-door, and, on reaching it, crouched
down and applied first his eye and then his ear to the key-hole.  The
key had been removed from the lock and the shield had fallen down over
the opening outside, so that he was unable to see anything; neither
could he detect any sounds indicative of the presence of others on
board.  Once or twice indeed he _thought_ he caught the sound of
whispered voices just outside the door, but he could not be sure about
the matter; and in an agony of uncertainty he crept back to the sofa to
watch the lagging minute-hand of the clock, and wait for the expiration
of the half-hour.

Oh! what a weary time was that for the lonely watcher, as he sat there
with his hands tightly locked together, his frame quivering with anxiety
and apprehension, and his eyes fixed upon that inexorable minute-hand,
which would not hasten its movement, though his life might be dependent
on it.  What if the men should grow weary of waiting?  A thousand
horrible fancies crowded in upon him, until in his distraction he
groaned aloud.  The suspense became unendurable; and in his anguish he
started up to burst open the saloon-door and learn the worst at once,
but (remembering Talbot's threat, and more than half-believing him to be
capable of carrying it into execution) turned back again and fell to
pacing rapidly to and fro the whole length of the saloon instead.

At last! at last! the half-hour of penance was over, and he was free
once more.  He dashed at the locked saloon-door, and, frantically
hammering upon it with his clenched firsts until his knuckles streamed
with blood, shouted eagerly--

"Talbot!  Talbot! the half-hour is up; so open the door, please, and let
me out, there's a good fellow."

Then he applied his ear to the key-hole, listening eagerly for the first
sound of approaching footsteps.

Five seconds--ten seconds--twenty--thirty--a minute; why did they not
come?  Was it possible that they had not heard him?  He applied his
mouth to the joint between the door and its jamb, and again shouted,
"Talbot!  _Talbot_!  _Talbot_!" until his voice cracked with the strain
he put upon it.  Still no answer, no sound save the wail of the wind,
the wash of the water, and the creaking of the ship's timbers.  "Good
God! were they really gone?  _Was_ he, after all, actually left there to
die alone?"  He seized the handle of the door and tugged at it,
fiercely, desperately, with the strength of a madman; but the stout lock
stood firm, defying his utmost efforts.  Then he suddenly remembered
that the captain's cabin was situated on the other side of the ship,
with one door opening into the saloon and the other out on deck.  With a
single bound and a wild cry he crossed the saloon, and laying his hand
upon the handle of the door of the captain's cabin, turned it; the door
swang open.  Another bound and he was at the outer door; was it locked?
No; a twist of the handle, and he stepped out on deck, with the water
surging and splashing over his feet.  But what cared he then for such a
trifle; he was not even conscious of it.  Swiftly his gaze swept round
the decks: they were empty.  In an instant he was at the gangway and
peering over the side.  No boats there; nothing but the empty tackles of
the quarter-boats alternately swinging in the air and trailing in the
water with the roll of the ship.  "_Where_ were the boats?  Ha! towing
astern, of course, it would simply mean destruction to them if they
attempted to remain alongside in so heavy a sea."  In frantic haste he
scrambled up the poop-ladder and rushed aft.

_The boats were gone_!

"Then it was an absolute fact that he was left there alone and
powerless, doomed to watch with a horrible fascination the steady
relentless approach of the Grim Enemy in his most terrible form, and to
suffer the while in imaginative anticipation all the agonies of a
thousand fiery deaths.  Oh, God! it was too much.  Mercy! mercy!"  And
with a demoniac yell he stood clutching and tugging at his hair with
both hands, his teeth clenched, his eyes fixed and almost bursting from
their sockets, foam bubbling from his lips--_a raving madman_!

This terrible state of distraction endured for nearly an hour, and then
a species of numbness seized upon his faculties, his anxiety vanished,
and he found his thoughts straying away and fixing themselves upon the
veriest trivialities, conjuring up again before his mental vision acts
and words which had never recurred to him since the day on which they
had been done or said, mischievous practical jokes played off upon some
unlucky school-fellow, mess-room jests and tattle, and a thousand other
absurdities, at which he laughed aloud.  Then disconnected words and
phrases rushed helter-skelter through his seething brain, having no
meaning, yet causing him the keenest annoyance, because he believed he
had heard them before, and was anxious to connect them with the
circumstances of their utterance.  There was one in particular which
especially tormented him.  "Go for a cruise on your own account; go for
a cruise on your own account," his brain reiterated with merciless
pertinacity.  What did it mean?  Where had he heard those words before,
and who had uttered them?  He felt absolutely certain that at some time
or other he had heard that phrase spoken, and that it had some intimate
connection with himself, that it somehow concerned him vitally.  "There
was something else, too, said at the same time--something about--about--
what was it?  Something about--ah! yes--spars and a raft--`spars--raft--
go for a cruise on your own account.'  What could it mean?"  Finally a
gleam of reason returned to his clouded mind, and he realised dimly that
it was of the utmost importance that he should construct a raft and "go
for a cruise on his own account."

Having at last grasped this idea, he rose from the seat upon which he
had flung himself, and upon which he seemed to himself to have been
sitting as long as ever he could remember, and proceeded to carry it
out.  Sauntering leisurely off the poop, he descended to the waist of
the ship, repeating eagerly over and over again the words "spars--raft,"
lest he should forget them.  There were several spare spars of various
sizes, ranging from topmasts down to studding-sail booms, lashed to the
deck on each side of the main-hatchway, and these he deliberately set to
work to cast adrift.  With considerable difficulty he at length
succeeded in accomplishing this task, the result being that the spars
were set rolling athwart the deck with the roll of the ship.  Nothing
daunted by this, however, he dashed recklessly in among them, and
escaping, heaven knows how, from the incessant danger of fractured
limbs, managed to drag out, one after the other, and launch overboard
several of the lighter spars.  Having commenced the work, he now toiled
persistently on, allowing himself neither pause nor rest until he had
disposed of every spar which his unaided strength would allow him to
move.  Then, panting, breathless, and reeking with perspiration, he
walked to the side and peered over.  The spars were nowhere to be seen;
in his madness it had never occurred to him to secure them with ropes,
and they had consequently drifted astern, and were of course tossing,
some of them miles away, in the wake of the ship.

Somehow the loss of the spars caused him no distress; indeed, as a
matter of fact, he had again forgotten all about the raft, and had
continued to labour on, merely because it had not occurred to him to
stop.  Now that he had stopped, however, he began to be conscious not
only of fatigue, but also of hunger, for he had tasted no food for
nearly twenty-four hours, and had been working hard all through the
night; so he made his way by instinct into the saloon and thence to the
steward's pantry, where he found an abundance of food, which he attacked
ravenously.  He then, after satisfying his hunger, bent his steps in the
direction of his own state-room, and, entering, flung himself upon the
bed, and soon sank into an uneasy and restless sleep.

Meanwhile the wind had been steadily dropping, the sea going down at the
same time, and when, just before sunset, the glorious orb burst through
and dispersed the curtain of storm-tattered clouds which had for so long
a time overspread the sky, his golden rays fell upon the _Princess
Royal_, now no longer rolling gunwale-under, but swinging with a slow
stately motion over the long swell, and still drifting lazily to the
eastward; her bows heading now this way, now that; her fore-mast burned
through and towing over the side; and the flames in complete possession
of her as far aft as the main-mast.

Walford's sleep, if such it could be called, lasted all through the
night and until just before the dawn.  Then the overpowering heat and
smoke, the loud crackling roar of the flames, and the fierce ruddy light
streaming into the saloon and through the open state-room door aroused
him.  Sitting up in his berth, he looked around him in a bewildered way,
passing his hand impatiently over his brow repeatedly, as if striving to
recall distinctly the remembrance of something vaguely haunting his
memory, but ever eluding his mental grasp.  Glancing vacantly around
him, the red glare of the flames 

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