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The Bravest of the Brave — or, with Peterborough in Spain

by G. A. Henty · English · Gutenberg #7318 · 516,365 chars · public domain (US)

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Title: The Bravest of the Brave — or, with Peterborough in Spain

Author: G. A. Henty


        
Release date: January 1, 2005 [eBook #7318]
                Most recently updated: March 11, 2018

Language: English

Other information and formats: www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/7318

Credits: Produced by Martin Robb, and David Widger


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THE BRAVEST OF THE BRAVE

OR, WITH PETERBOROUGH IN SPAIN


By G. A. Henty.




PREFACE


My Dear Lads:

There are few great leaders whose lives and actions have so completely
fallen into oblivion as those of the Earl of Peterborough. His career as
a general was a brief one, extending only over little more than a year,
and yet in that time he showed a genius for warfare which has never been
surpassed, and performed feats of daring worthy of taking their place
among those of the leaders of chivalry.

The fact that they have made so slight a mark upon history is due to
several reasons. In the first place, they were overshadowed by the glory
and successes of Marlborough; they were performed in a cause which could
scarcely be said to be that of England, and in which the public had a
comparatively feeble interest; the object, too, for which he fought was
frustrated, and the war was an unsuccessful one, although from no fault
on his part.

But most of all, Lord Peterborough failed to attain that place in the
list of British worthies to which his genius and his bravery should
have raised him, because that genius was directed by no steady aim
or purpose. Lord Peterborough is, indeed, one of the most striking
instances in history of genius and talent wasted, and a life thrown away
by want of fixed principle and by an inability or unwillingness to work
with other men. He quarreled in turn with every party and with almost
every individual with whom he came in contact; and while he himself
was constantly changing his opinions, he was intolerant of all opinions
differing from those which he at the moment held, and was always ready
to express in the most open and offensive manner his contempt and
dislike for those who differed from him. His eccentricities were great;
he was haughty and arrogant, hasty and passionate; he denied his God,
quarreled with his king, and rendered himself utterly obnoxious to every
party in the state.

And yet there was a vast amount of good in this strange man. He was
generous and warm hearted to a fault, kind to those in station beneath
him, thoughtful and considerate for his troops, who adored him, cool
in danger, sagacious in difficulties, and capable at need of evincing
a patience and calmness wholly at variance with his ordinary impetuous
character. Although he did not scruple to carry deception, in order to
mislead an enemy, to a point vastly beyond what is generally considered
admissible in war, he was true to his word and punctiliously honorable
in the ordinary affairs of life.

For the historical events I have described, and for the details of
Peterborough's conduct and character, I have relied chiefly upon the
memoir of the earl written by Mr. C. Warburton, and published some
thirty years ago.



CHAPTER I: THE WAR OF THE SUCCESSION


“He is an idle vagabond!” the mayor of the good town of Southampton
said, in high wrath--“a ne'er do well, and an insolent puppy; and as to
you, Mistress Alice, if I catch you exchanging words with him again, ay,
or nodding to him, or looking as if in any way you were conscious of his
presence, I will put you on bread and water, and will send you away for
six months to the care of my sister Deborah, who will, I warrant me,
bring you to your senses.”

The Mayor of Southampton must have been very angry indeed when he spoke
in this way to his daughter Alice, who in most matters had her own
way. Especially did it show that he was angry, since he so spoke in the
presence of Mistress Anthony, his wife, who was accustomed to have a by
no means unimportant share in any decision arrived at respecting family
matters.

She was too wise a woman, however, to attempt to arrest the torrent
in full flood, especially as it was a matter on which her husband had
already shown a very unusual determination to have his own way. She
therefore continued to work in silence, and paid no attention to the
appealing glance which her daughter, a girl of fourteen, cast toward
her. But although she said nothing, her husband understood in her
silence an unuttered protest.

“It is no use your taking that scamp's part, Mary, in this matter. I am
determined to have my own way, and the townspeople know well that when
Richard Anthony makes up his mind, nothing will move him.”

“I have had no opportunity to take his part, Richard,” his wife said
quietly; “you have been storming without interruption since you came in
five minutes ago, and I have not uttered a single word.”

“But you agree with me, Mary--you cannot but agree with me--that it is
nothing short of a scandal for the daughter of the Mayor of Southampton
to be talking to a penniless young rogue like that at the garden gate.”

“Alice should not have met him there,” Mistress Anthony said; “but
seeing that she is only fourteen years old, and the boy only sixteen,
and he her second cousin, I do not see that the matter is so very
shocking.”

“In four more years, Mistress Anthony,” the mayor said profoundly, “he
will be twenty, and she will be eighteen.”

“So I suppose, Richard; I am no great head at a figures, but even I can
reckon that. But as at present they are only fourteen and sixteen, I
repeat that I do not see that it matters--at least not so very much.
Alice, do you go to your room, and remain there till I send for you.”

The girl without a word rose and retired. In the reign of King William
the Third implicit obedience was expected of children.

“I think, Richard,” Mrs. Anthony went on when the door closed behind her
daughter, “you are not acting quite with your usual wisdom in treating
this matter in so serious a light, and in putting ideas into the girl's
head which would probably never have entered there otherwise. Of course
Alice is fond of Jack. It is only natural that she should be, seeing
that he is her second cousin, and that for two years they have lived
together under this roof.”

“I was a fool, Mistress Anthony,” the mayor said angrily, “ever to yield
to your persuasions in that matter. It was unfortunate, of course, that
the boy's father, the husband of your Cousin Margaret, should have been
turned out of his living by the Sectarians, as befell thousands of other
clergymen besides him. It was still more unfortunate that when King
Charles returned he did not get reinstated; but, after all, that was
Margaret's business and not mine; and if she was fool enough to marry a
pauper, and he well nigh old enough to be her father--well, as I say, it
was no business of mine.”

“He was not a pauper, Richard, and you know it; and he made enough by
teaching to keep him and Margaret comfortably till he broke down and
died three years ago, and poor Margaret followed him to the grave a year
later. He was a good man--in every way a good man.”

“Tut, tut! I am not saying he wasn't a good man. I am only saying that,
good or bad, it was no business of mine; and then nothing will do but
I must send for the boy and put him in my business. And a nice mess
he made of it--an idler, more careless apprentice, no cloth merchant,
especially one who stood well with his fellow citizens, and who was
on the highway to becoming mayor of his native city, was ever crossed
with.”

“I think he was hardly as bad as that, Richard. I don't think you were
ever quite fair to the boy.”

“Not fair, Mary! I am surprised at you. In what way was I not quite
fair?”

“I don't think you meant to be unfair, Richard; but you see you were a
little--just a little--prejudiced against him from the first; because,
instead of jumping at your offer to apprentice him to your trade, he
said he should like to be a sailor.”

“Quite enough to prejudice me, too, madam. Why, there are scores of sons
of respectable burgesses of this town who would jump at such an offer;
and here this penniless boy turns up his nose at it.”

“It was foolish, no doubt, Richard; but you see the boy had been
reading the lives of admirals and navigators--he was full of life and
spirit--and I believe his father had consented to his going to sea.”

“Full of life and spirit, madam!” the mayor repeated more angrily than
before; “let me tell you it is these fellows who are full of life and
adventure who come to the gallows. Naturally I was offended; but as I
had given you my word I kept to it. Every man in Southampton knows
that the word of Richard Anthony is as good as his bond. I bound him
apprentice, and what comes of it? My foreman, Andrew Carson, is knocked
flat on his back in the middle of the shop.”

Mrs. Anthony bit her lips to prevent herself from smiling.

“We will not speak any more about that, Richard,” she said; “because, if
we did, we should begin to argue. You know it is my opinion, and always
has been, that Carson deliberately set you against the boy; that he was
always telling you tales to his disadvantage; and although I admit that
the lad was very wrong to knock him down when he struck him, I think, my
dear, I should have done the same had I been in his place.”

“Then, madam,” Mr. Anthony said solemnly, “you would have deserved
what happened to him--that you should be turned neck and crop into the
street.”

Mrs. Anthony gave a determined nod of her head--a nod which signified
that she should have a voice on that point. However, seeing that in her
husband's present mood it was better to say no more, she resumed her
work.

While this conversation had been proceeding, Jack Stilwell, who had fled
hastily when surprised by the mayor as he was talking to his daughter at
the back gate of the garden, had made his way down to the wharves, and
there, seating himself upon a pile of wood, had stared moodily at the
tract of mud extending from his feet to the strip of water far away.
His position was indeed an unenviable one. As Mrs. Anthony had said,
his father was a clergyman of the Church of England, the vicar of a
snug living in Lincolnshire, but he had been cast out when the
Parliamentarians gained the upper hand, and his living was handed over
to a Sectarian preacher. When, after years of poverty, King Charles came
to the throne, the dispossessed minister thought that as a matter of
course he should be restored to his living; but it was not so. As in
hundreds of other cases the new occupant conformed at once to the new
laws, and the Rev. Thomas Stilwell, having no friends or interest, was,
like many another clergyman, left out in the cold.

But by this time he had settled at Oxford--at which university he
had been educated--and was gaining a not uncomfortable livelihood
by teaching the sons of citizens. Late in life he married Margaret
Ullathorpe, who, still a young woman, had, during a visit to some
friends at Oxford, made his acquaintance. In spite of the disparity of
years the union was a happy one. One son was born to them, and all had
gone well until a sudden chill had been the cause of Mr. Stilwell's
death, his wife surviving him only one year. Her death took place at
Southampton, where she had moved after the loss of her husband, having
no further tie at Oxford, and a week later Jack Stilwell found himself
domiciled at the house of Mr. Anthony.

It was in vain that he represented to the cloth merchant that his wishes
lay toward a seafaring life, and that although his father had wished him
to go into the ministry, he had given way to his entreaties. Mr. Anthony
sharply pooh poohed the idea, and insisted that it was nothing short
of madness to dream of such a thing when so excellent an opportunity of
learning a respectable business was open to him.

At any other time Jack would have resisted stoutly, and would have run
away and taken his chance rather than agree to the proposition; but he
was broken down by grief at his mother's death. Incapable of making a
struggle against the obstinacy of Mr. Anthony, and scarce caring what
became of himself, he signed the deed of apprenticeship which made him
for five years the slave of the cloth merchant. Not that the latter
intended to be anything but kind, and he sincerely believed that he was
acting for the good of the boy in taking him as his apprentice; but as
Jack recovered his spirits and energy, he absolutely loathed the trade
to which he was bound. Had it not been for Mistress Anthony and Alice
he would have braved the heavy pains and penalties which in those days
befell disobedient apprentices, and would have run away to sea; but
their constant kindness, and the fact that his mother with her dying
breath had charged him to regard her cousin as standing in her place,
prevented him from carrying the idea which he often formed into effect.

In the shop his life was wretched. He was not stupid, as his master
asserted; for indeed in other matters he was bright and clever, and his
father had been well pleased with the progress he made with his studies;
but, in the first place; he hated his work, and, in the second, every
shortcoming and mistake was magnified and made the most of by the
foreman, Andrew Carson. This man had long looked to be taken into
partnership, and finally to succeed his master, seeing that the latter
had no sons, and he conceived a violent jealousy of Jack Stilwell,
in whose presence, as a prime favorite of Mistress Anthony and of her
daughter, he thought he foresaw an overthrow of his plans.

He was not long in effecting a breach between the boy and his
master--for Jack's carelessness and inattention gave him plenty of
opportunities--and Mr. Anthony ere long viewed the boy's errors as acts
of willful disobedience. This state of things lasted for two years until
the climax came, when, as Mr. Anthony had said to his wife, Jack, upon
the foreman attempting to strike him, had knocked the latter down in the
shop.

Mr. Anthony's first impulse was to take his apprentice before the
justices and to demand condign punishment for such an act of flagrant
rebellion; but a moment's reflection told him that Jack, at the end of
his punishment, would return to his house, where his wife would take
his part as usual, and the quarrels which had frequently arisen on his
account would be more bitter than before.

It was far better to get rid of him at once, and he accordingly ordered
him from the shop, tore up his indenture before his eyes, and bade
him never let him see his face again. For the first few hours Jack was
delighted at his freedom. He spent the day down on the wharves talking
to the fishermen and sailors. There were no foreign bound ships in
the port, and he had no wish to ship on board a coaster; he therefore
resolved to wait until a vessel sailing for foreign ports should leave.

He had no money; but a few hours after he left the shop Mrs. Anthony's
maid found him on the wharf, and gave him a letter from her mistress. In
this was inclosed a sum of money sufficient to last him for some time,
and an assurance that she did not share her husband's anger against him.

“I have no doubt, my dear Jack,” she said, “that in time I could heal
the breach and could arrange for you to come back again, but I think
perhaps it is better as it is. You would never make a clothier, and I
don't think you would ever become Mayor of Southampton. I know what your
wishes are, and I think that you had better follow them out. Alice is
heartbroken over the affair, but I assure her that it will all turn out
for the best. I cannot ask you to come up to the house; but whenever you
have settled on anything leave a note with Dorothy for me, and I will
come down with Alice to see you and say goodby to you. I will see that
you do not go without a proper outfit.”

It was to deliver this letter that Jack had gone up to the back
gate; and seeing Alice in the garden they had naturally fallen into
conversation at the gate, when the mayor, looking out from the window of
his warehouse, happened to see them, and went out in the greatest wrath
to put a stop to the conversation.

Jack had indeed found a ship; she had come in from Holland with cloth
and other merchandise, and was after she was discharged to sail for
the colonies with English goods. She would not leave the port for some
weeks; but he had seen the captain, who had agreed to take him as ship's
boy. Had the mayor been aware that his late apprentice was on the point
of leaving he would not have interfered with his intention; but as he
had peremptorily ordered that his name was not to be mentioned before
him, and as Mrs. Anthony had no motive in approaching the forbidden
subject, the mayor remained in ignorance that Jack was about to depart
on a distant voyage.

One day, on going down to the town hail, he found an official letter
waiting him; it was an order from government empowering justices of the
peace to impress such men as they thought fit, with the only restriction
that men entitled to vote for members of parliament were exempted. This
tremendous power had just been legalized by an act of parliament. A more
iniquitous act never disgraced our statutes, for it enabled justices of
the peace to spite any of their poorer neighbors against whom they had a
grudge, and to ship them off to share in the hardships of Marlborough's
campaign in Germany and the Low Countries, or in the expedition now
preparing for Spain.

At that time the army was held in the greatest dislike by the English
people. The nation had always been opposed to a standing force, and
it was only now that the necessities of the country induced them to
tolerate it. It was, however, recruited almost entirely from reckless
and desperate men. Criminals were allowed to commute sentences of
imprisonment for service in the army, and the gates of the prisons
were also opened to insolvent debtors consenting to enlist. But all the
efforts of the recruiting sergeants, aided by such measures as these,
proved insufficient to attract a sufficient number of men to keep up the
armies at the required strength.

Pressing had always existed to a certain extent; but it had been carried
on secretly, and was regarded as illegal. Therefore, as men must be had,
the law giving justices the authority and power to impress any men
they might select, with the exception of those who possessed a vote for
members of parliament, was passed with the approval of parties on both
sides of the House of Commons.

There was indeed great need for men. England had allied herself with
Austria and Holland in opposition to France, the subject of dispute
being the succession to the crown of Spain, England's feelings in the
matter being further imbittered by the recognition by Louis XIV of the
Pretender as King of England. Therefore, although her interests were not
so deeply engaged in the question as to the succession to the throne of
Spain as were those of the continental powers, she threw herself into
the struggle with ardor.

The two claimants to the throne of Spain were the Archduke Charles,
second son of Leopold, Emperor of Austria, and Philip, Duke of Anjou, a
younger grandson of Louis. On the marriage of the French king with Maria
Theresa, the sister of Charles II of Spain, she had formally renounced
all claims to the succession, but the French king had nevertheless
continued from time to time to bring them forward. Had these rights
not been renounced Philip would have had the best claim to the Spanish
throne, the next of kin after him being Charles of Austria.

During the later days of the King of Spain all Europe had looked on with
the most intense interest at the efforts which the respective parties
made for their candidates. Whichever might succeed to the throne the
balance of power would be destroyed; for either Austria and Spain
united, or France and Spain united, would be sufficient to overawe the
rest of the Continent. Louis XIV lulled the fears of the Austrian party
by suggesting a treaty of partition to the Dutch states and William the
Third of England.

By this treaty it was agreed that the Archduke Charles was to be
acknowledged successor to the crowns of Spain, the Indies, and the
Netherlands; while the dauphin, as the eldest son of Maria Theresa,
should receive the kingdom of Naples and Sicily, with the Spanish
province of Guipuscoa and the duchy of Milan, in compensation of his
abandonment of other claims. When the conditions of this treaty became
known they inspired natural indignation in the minds of the people of
the country which had thus been arbitrarily allotted, and the dying
Charles of Spain was infuriated by this conspiracy to break up and
divide his dominion. His jealousy of France would have led him to select
the Austrian claimant; but the emperor's undisguised greed for a portion
of the Spanish empire, and the overbearing and unpleasant manner of the
Austrian ambassador in the Spanish court, drove him to listen to the
overtures of Louis, who had a powerful ally in Cardinal Portocarrero,
Archbishop of Toledo, whose influence was all powerful with the king.
The cardinal argued that the grandson of Maria Theresa could not be
bound by her renunciation, and also that it had only been made with a
view to keep separate the French and Spanish monarchies, and that if a
descendant of hers, other than the heir to the throne of France, were
chosen, this condition would be carried out.

Finally, he persuaded Charles, a month before his death, to sign a will
declaring Philip, Duke of Anjou, grandson of his brother in law Louis
XIV, sole heir of the Spanish empire. The will was kept secret till the
death of the king, and was then publicly proclaimed. Louis accepted the
bequest in favor of his grandson, and Philip was declared king in Spain
and her dependencies.

The greatest indignation was caused in England, Holland, and the empire
at this breach by the King of France of the treaty of partition,
of which he himself had been the author. England and Holland were
unprepared for war, and therefore bided their time, but Austria at once
commenced hostilities by directing large bodies of troops, under Prince
Eugene, into the duchy of Milan, and by inciting the Neapolitans to
revolt. The young king was at first popular in Spain, but Cardinal
Portocarrero, who exercised the real power of the state, by his
overbearing temper, his avarice, and his shameless corruption, speedily
alienated the people from their monarch. Above all, the cardinal was
supposed to be the tool of the French king, and to represent the policy
which had for its object the dismemberment of the Spanish monarchy and
the aggrandizement of France.

That Louis had such designs was undoubted, and, if properly managed and
bribed, Portocarrero would have been a pliant instrument in his hands;
but the cardinal was soon estranged by the constant interference by the
French agents in his own measures of government, and therefore turned
against France that power of intrigue which he had recently used in her
favor. He pretended to be devoted to France, and referred even the most
minute details of government to Paris for approbation, with the double
view of disgusting Louis with the government of Spain and of enraging
the Spanish people at the constant interference of Louis.

Philip, however, found a new and powerful ally in the hearts of the
people by his marriage with Maria Louisa, daughter of the Duke of
Savoy--a beautiful girl of fourteen years old, who rapidly developed
into a graceful and gifted woman, and became the darling of the
Spanish people, and whose intellect, firmness, and courage guided and
strengthened her weak but amiable husband. For a time the power of Spain
and France united overshadowed Europe, the trading interests of England
and Holland were assailed, and a French army assembled close to the
Flemish frontier.

The indignation of the Dutch overcame their fears, and they yielded
to the quiet efforts which King William was making, and combined with
England and Austria in a grand alliance against France, the object of
the combination being to exclude Louis from the Netherlands and West
Indies, and to prevent the union of the crowns of France and Spain upon
the same head. King William might not have obtained from the English
parliament a ratification of the alliance had not Louis just at this
moment acknowledged the son of the ex-king James as king of England.
This insult roused the spirit of the English people, the House of
Commons approved the triple alliance, and voted large supplies. King
William died just after seeing his favorite project successful, and was
succeeded by Queen Anne, who continued his policy. The Austrian Archduke
Charles was recognized by the allies as King of Spain, and preparation
made for war.

An English army was landed near Cadiz; but the Spaniards showed no signs
of rising in favor of Charles, and, after bringing great discredit
on themselves and exciting the animosity of the Spaniards by gross
misconduct, the English army embarked again. Some treasure ships were
captured, and others sunk in the harbor of Vigo, but the fleet was no
more effective than the army. Admiral Sir John Munden was cashiered
for treachery or cowardice on the coast of Spain, and four captains of
vessels in the gallant Benbow's West India fleet were either dismissed
or shot for refusing to meet the enemy and for abandoning their chief.

In 1703 little was done in the way of fighting, but the allies received
an important addition of strength by the accession of Portugal to their
ranks. In 1704 the allies made an attempt upon the important city of
Barcelona. It was believed that the Catalans would have declared for
Charles; but the plot by which the town was to be given up to him was
discovered on the eve of execution, and the English force re-embarked on
their ships. Their success was still less on the side of Portugal, where
the Duke of Berwick, who was in command of the forces of King Philip,
defeated the English and Dutch under the Duke of Schomberg and captured
many towns.

The Portuguese rendered the allies but slight assistance. These reverses
were, however, balanced by the capture of Gibraltar on the 21st of June
by the fleet under Sir George Rooke, and a small land force under
Prince George of Hesse. Schomberg was recalled and Lord Galway took the
command; but he succeeded no better than his predecessor, and affairs
looked but badly for the allies, when the Duke of Marlborough, with the
English and allied troops in Germany, inflicted the first great check
upon the power and ambition of Louis XIV by the splendid victory of
Blenheim.

This defeat of the French had a disastrous effect upon the fortunes of
Philip. He could no longer hope for help from his grandfather, for Louis
was now called upon to muster his whole strength on his eastern frontier
for the defense of his own dominion, and Philip was forced to depend
upon his partisans in Spain only. The partisans of Charles at once took
heart. The Catalans had never been warm in the cause of Philip; the
crowns of Castile, Arragon, and Catalonia had only recently been united,
and dangerous jealousy existed between these provinces. The Castilians
were devoted adherents of Philip, and this in itself was sufficient to
set Catalonia and Arragon against him.

The English government had been informed of this growing discontent in
the north of Spain, and sent out an emissary to inquire into the truth
of the statement. As his report confirmed all that they had heard, it
was decided in the spring of 1705 to send out an expedition which was to
effect a landing in Catalonia, and would, it was hoped, be joined by all
the people of that province and Arragon. By the efforts and patronage
of the Duchess of Marlborough, who was all powerful with Queen Anne, the
Earl of Peterborough was named to the command of the expedition.

The choice certainly appeared a singular one, for hitherto the earl had
done nothing which would entitle him to so distinguished a position.
Charles Mordaunt was the eldest son of John Lord Mordaunt, Viscount
Avalon, a brave and daring cavalier, who had fought heart and soul
for Charles, and had been tried by Cromwell for treason, and narrowly
escaped execution. On the restoration, as a reward for his risk of
life and fortune, and for his loyalty and ability, he was raised to the
peerage.

His son Charles inherited none of his father's steadfastness. Brought
up in the profligate court of Charles the Second he became an atheist,
a scoffer at morality, and a republican. At the same time he had many
redeeming points. He was brilliant, witty, energetic, and brave. He
was generous and strictly honorable to his word. He was filled with a
burning desire for adventure, and, at the close of 1674, when in
his seventeenth year, he embarked in Admiral Torrington's ship, and
proceeded to join as a volunteer Sir John Narborough's fleet in the
Mediterranean, in order to take part in the expedition to restrain and
revenge the piratical depredations of the barbarous states of Tripoli
and Algiers.

He distinguished himself on the 14th of January, 1675, in an attack by
the boats of the fleet upon four corsair men o' war moored under
the very guns of the castle and fort of Tripoli. The exploit was a
successful one, the ships were all burned, and most of their crews
slain. Another encounter with the fleet of Tripoli took place in
February, when the pirates were again defeated, and the bey forced to
grant all the English demands.

In 1677 the fleet returned to England, and with it Mordaunt, who had
during his absence succeeded to his father's title and estates, John
Lord Mordaunt having died on the 5th of June, 1675. Shortly after his
return to England Lord Mordaunt, though still but twenty years
old, married a daughter of Sir Alexander Fraser. But his spirit was
altogether unsuited to the quiet enjoyment of domestic life, and at the
end of September, 1678, he went out as a volunteer in his majesty's ship
Bristol, which was on the point of sailing for the Mediterranean to
take part in an expedition fitting out for the relief of Tangier, then
besieged by the Moors. Nothing, however, came of the expedition, and
Mordaunt returned to England in the autumn of 1679.

In June, 1680, he again sailed for Tangier with a small expedition
commanded by the Earl of Plymouth. The expedition succeeded in throwing
themselves into the besieged town, and continued the defense with vigor,
and Mordaunt again distinguished himself; but he soon wearied of
the monotony of a long siege, and before the end of the year found
opportunity to return to England, where he plunged into politics and
became one of the leaders of the party formed to exclude the Duke of
York from the throne.

Although a close friend of Lord Russell and Algernon Sidney he had
fortunately for himself not been admitted to the fatal privilege of
their private councils, and therefore escaped the fate which befell
them. He continued his friendship with them to the last, and accompanied
Algernon Sidney to the scaffold. But even while throwing himself heart
and soul into politics he was continually indulging in wild freaks which
rendered him the talk of the town.

On the accession of King James he made his first speech in the House of
Peers against a standing army, and distinguished himself alike by the
eloquence and violence of his language. He was now under the displeasure
of the court, and his profuse generosity had brought him into pecuniary
trouble. In 1686, therefore, he quitted England with the professed
intention of accepting a command in the Dutch fleet then about to sail
for the West Indies, When he arrived in Holland, however, he presented
himself immediately to the Prince of Orange, and first among the British
nobility boldly proposed to William an immediate invasion of England.
He pushed his arguments with fiery zeal, urged the disaffection of all
classes, the hatred of the Commons, the defection of the Lords, the
alarm of the Church, and the wavering loyalty of the army.

William, however, was already informed of these facts, and was not to be
hurried. Mordaunt remained with him till, on the 20th of October, 1688,
he sailed for England. The first commission that King William signed in
England was the appointment of Lord Mordaunt as lieutenant colonel of
horse, and raising a regiment he rendered good service at Exeter. As
soon as the revolution was completed, and William and Mary ascended the
throne, Mordaunt was made a privy councilor and one of the lords of the
bedchamber, and in April, 1689, he was made first commissioner of the
treasury, and advanced to the dignity of Earl of Monmouth. In addition
to the other offices to which he was appointed he was given the
colonelcy of the regiment of horse guards.

His conduct in office showed in brilliant contrast to that of the men
with whom he was placed. He alone was free from the slightest suspicion
of corruption and venality, and he speedily made enemies among his
colleagues by the open contempt which he manifested for their gross
corruption.

Although he had taken so prominent a part in bringing King William to
England, Monmouth soon became mixed up in all sorts of intrigues and
plots. He was already tired of the reign of the Dutch king, and longed
for a commonwealth. He was constantly quarreling with his colleagues,
and whenever there was a debate in the House of Lords Monmouth took a
prominent part on the side of the minority. In 1692 he went out with his
regiment of horse guards to Holland, and fought bravely at the battle
of Steenkirk. The campaign was a failure, and in October he returned to
England with the king.

For two years after this he lived quietly, devoting his principal
attention to his garden and the society of wits and men of letters. Then
he again appeared in parliament, and took a leading part in the movement
in opposition to the crown, and inveighed in bitter terms against the
bribery of persons in power by the East India Company, and the venality
of many members of parliament and even the ministry. His relations
with the king were now of the coldest kind, and he became mixed up in
a Jacobite plot. How far he was guilty in the matter was never proved.
Public opinion certainly condemned him, and by a vote of the peers he
was deprived of all his employments and sent to the Tower. The king,
however, stood his friend, and released him at the end of the session.

In 1697, by the death of his uncle, Charles became Earl of Peterborough,
and passed the next four years in private life, emerging only
occasionally to go down to the House of Peers and make fiery onslaughts
upon abuses and corruption. In the course of these years, both in
parliament and at court, he had been sometimes the friend, sometimes the
opponent of Marlborough; but he had the good fortune to be a favorite of
the duchess, and when the time came that a leader was required for the
proposed expedition to Spain, she exerted herself so effectually that
she procured his nomination.

Hitherto his life had been a strange one. Indolent and energetic by
turns, restless and intriguing, quarreling with all with whom he came
in contact, burning with righteous indignation against corruption and
misdoing, generous to a point which crippled his finances seriously, he
was a puzzle to all who knew him, and had he died at this time he
would only have left behind him the reputation of being one of the most
brilliant, gifted, and honest, but at the same time one of the most
unstable, eccentric, and ill regulated spirits of his time.



CHAPTER II: IMPRESSED


When the Mayor of Southampton opened the official document empowering
and requesting him to obtain recruits for the queen's service he was not
greatly pleased. This sort of thing would give a good deal of trouble,
and would assuredly not add to his popularity. He saw at once that he
would be able to oblige many of his friends by getting rid of people
troublesome to them, but with this exception where was he to find the
recruits the queen required? There were, of course, a few never do wells
in the town who could be packed off, to the general satisfaction of
the inhabitants, but beyond this every one taken would have friends and
relations who would cry out and protest.

It was likely to be a troublesome business, and the mayor threw down the
paper on the table before him. Then suddenly his expression changed.
He had been thinking of obliging his friends by sending off persons
troublesome to them, but he had not thought of his own case. Here was
the very thing; he would send off this troublesome lad to fight for the
queen; and whether he went to the Low Countries under Marlborough, or
to Spain with this new expedition which was being prepared, it was very
unlikely that he would ever return to trouble him.

He was only sixteen, indeed, but he was strong and well grown, and much
fitter for service than many of those who would be sent. If the
young fellow stopped here he would always be a trouble, and a bone of
contention between himself and his wife. Besides, for Alice's sake,
it was clearly his duty to get the fellow out of the way. Girls, Mr.
Anthony considered, were always falling in love with the very last
people in the world with whom they should do so, and out of sheer
contrariety it was more than possible that Alice might take a fancy for
this penniless vagabond, and if she did Mrs. Anthony was fool enough to
support her in her folly.

Of course there would be trouble with his wife when she found what had
happened to the lad--for the mayor did not deceive himself for a moment
by the thought that he would be able to conceal from his wife the cause
of Jack's absence; he was too well aware of Mrs. Anthony's power of
investigation. Still, after it was done it could not be undone, and
it was better to have one domestic storm than a continuation of foul
weather.

Calling in his clerk the mayor read over to him the order he had
received, and bade him turn to the court book and make out a list of the
names of forty young men who had been charged before him with offenses
of drunkenness, assault, battery and rioting.

“When you have made up the list, Johnson, you will go round to the
aldermen and inform them of the order that I have received from the
government, and you can tell them that if there are any persons they
know of whom they consider that Southampton would be well rid, if they
will send the names to me I will add them to the list. Bid them not to
choose married men, if it can be avoided, for the town would be burdened
with the support of their wives and families. Another ten names will do.
The letter which accompanies the order says that from my well known zeal
and loyalty it is doubted not that Southampton will furnish a hundred
men, but if I begin with fifty that will be well enough, and we can pick
out the others at our leisure.”

By the afternoon the list was filled up. One of the aldermen had
inserted the name of a troublesome nephew, another that of a foreman
with whom he had had a dispute about wages, and who had threatened to
proceed against him in the court. Some of the names were inserted from
mere petty spite; but with scarce an exception the aldermen responded to
the invitation of the mayor, and placed on the list the name of some one
whom they, or Southampton, would be the better without.

When the list was completed the mayor struck out one of the first names
inserted by his clerk and inserted that of John Stilwell in its place.
His instructions were that he was to notify to an officer, who would
arrive with a company of soldiers on the following day, the names of
those whom he deemed suitable for the queen's service. The officer after
taking them was to embark them on board one of the queen's cutters,
which would come round from Portsmouth for the purpose, and would convey
them to Dover, where a camp was being formed and the troops assembling.

Upon the following day the company marched into the town, and the
officer in command, having seen his men billeted among the citizens,
called upon the mayor.

“Well, Mr. Mayor,” he said, “I hope you have a good list of recruits
for me. I don't want to be waiting here, for I have to go on a similar
errand to other towns. It is not a job I like, I can tell you, but it is
not for me to question orders.”

“I have a list of fifty men, all active and hearty fellows, who will
make good soldiers,” the mayor said.

“And of whom, no doubt, Southampton will be well rid,” the officer said
with a laugh. “Truly, I pity the Earl of Peterborough, for he will
have as rough a body of soldiers as ever marched to war. However, it is
usually the case that the sort of men who give trouble at home are just
those who, when the time comes, make the best fighters. I would rather
have half a dozen of your reckless blades, when the pinch comes, than a
score of honest plowboys. How do you propose that I shall take them?”

“That I will leave entirely to you,” the mayor said; “here is a list
of the houses where they lodge. I will place the town watch at your
disposal to show you the way and to point out the men to you.”

“That will be all I shall require,” the officer said; “but you can give
me a list of those who are most likely to give trouble. These I will
pounce upon and get on board ship first of all. When they are secured
I will tell my men off in parties, each with one of your constables to
point out the men, and we will pick them up so many every evening. It
is better not to break into houses and seize them; for, although we
are acting legally and under the authority of act of parliament, it is
always as well to avoid giving cause of complaint, which might tend to
excite a feeling against the war and make the government unpopular, and
which, moreover, might do you harm with the good citizens, and do me
harm with those above me. I am sure you agree with me.”

“Quite so, quite so,” the mayor said hastily; “you speak very prudently
and well, sir. I hope you will honor me by taking up your abode in my
house during your stay here; but may I ask you not to allow my wife,
who is inquisitive by nature, to see the list with which I furnish you?
Women are ever meddling in matters which concern them not.”

“I understand,” the officer said with a wink, “there are names on the
list of which your wife would not approve. I have known the same thing
happen before. But never fear, the list shall be kept safe; and, indeed,
it were better that nothing were said of my business in the town, for if
this get abroad, some of those whose conscience may tell them that they
will be likely to be chosen for service might very well slip off and be
out of the way until they hear that I and my men have left.”

Two days later, when, as the evening was falling, Jack Stilwell was
walking up from the wharf, where he had been watching the unlading of
the vessel in which he was to sail, he came upon a group of four or five
soldiers standing at a corner. Then a voice, which he recognized as that
of the foreman, Richard Carson, said:

“That is your man, officer;” and the soldiers made a sudden rush upon
him.

Taken by surprise he nevertheless struggled desperately, but a heavy
blow with a staff fell on the back of his head, and for a time he knew
nothing more. When he recovered his consciousness he was lying almost in
complete darkness, but by the faint gleam of the lantern he discovered
that he was in the hold of a ship. Several other men were sitting or
laying near him. Some of them were cursing and swearing, others were
stanching the blood which flowed from various cuts and gashes.

“What does all this mean?” he asked as he somewhat recovered himself.

“It means,” said one, “that we are pressed to serve as soldiers. I made
a fight for it, and just as they had got the handcuffs on some citizens
came up and asked what was doing, and the sergeant said, 'It is quite
legal. We hold the mayor's warrant to impress this man for service in
the army; there is a constable here who will tell you we are acting on
authority, and if any interfere it will be worse for them.'”

Jack heard the news in silence. So, he had been pressed by a warrant of
the mayor, he was the victim of the spite of his late employer. But his
thoughts soon turned from this by the consciousness that his shirt and
clothes were soaked with blood, and putting his hand to the back of
his head he found a great lump from which the blood was still slowly
flowing. Taking off his neck handkerchief he bound it round his head
and then lay down again. He tried to think, but his brain was weak and
confused, and he presently fell into a sound sleep, from which he was
not aroused by the arrival of another batch of prisoners.

It was morning when he awoke, and he found that he had now nearly
twenty companions in captivity. Some were walking up and down like caged
animals, others were loudly bewailing their fate, some sat moody and
silent, while some bawled out threats of vengeance against those they
considered responsible for their captivity. A sentry with a shouldered
musket was standing at the foot of the steps, and from time to time some
sailors passed up and down. Jack went up to one of these.

“Mate,” he said, “could you let us have a few buckets of water down
here? In the first place we are parched with thirst, and in the second
we may as well try to get off some of the blood which, from a good many
of us, has been let out pretty freely.”

“Well, you seem a reasonable sort of chap,” the sailor said, “and to
take things coolly. That's the way, my lad; when the king, or the queen
now--it's all the same thing--has once got his hand on you it's of no
use kicking against it. I have been pressed twice myself, so I know how
you feel. Here, mates,” he said to two of the other sailors, “lend a
hand and get a bucket of fresh water and a pannikin, and half a dozen
buckets of salt water, and let these lads have a drink and a wash.”

It was soon done. The prisoners were all glad of the drink, but few
cared to trouble about washing. Jack, however, took possession of a
bucket, stripped to the waist, and had a good wash. The salt water made
his wound smart, but he continued for half an hour bathing it, and at
the end of that time felt vastly fresher and better. Then he soaked his
shirt in the water, and as far as possible removed the broad stains of
blood which stiffened it. Then he wrung it out and hung it up to dry,
and, putting on his coat, sat down and thought matters over.

He had never had the idea of entering the army, for the measures taken
to fill the ranks rendered the military service distasteful in the
extreme to the English people. Since the days of Agincourt the English
army had never gained any brilliant successes abroad, and there was
consequently none of that national pride which now exists in its bravery
and glorious history.

Still, Jack reflected, it did not make much difference to him whether he
became a soldier or a sailor. He had longed to see the world, to
share in deeds of adventure, and, above all, to escape from the dreary
drudgery of the clothier's shop. These objects would be attained as well
in the army as in the navy; and, indeed, now that he thought of it, he
preferred the active service which he would see under Marlborough or
Peterborough to the monotony of a long sea voyage. At any rate, it was
clear that remonstrance or resistance were vain. He as well as others
were aware of the law which had just been passed, giving magistrates the
power of impressing soldiers for the service, and he felt, therefore,
that although his impressment had no doubt been dictated by the private
desire of the mayor to get him out of the way, it was yet strictly
legal, and that it would be useless his making any protest against it.
He resolved, therefore, to make the best of things, and to endeavor to
win the goodwill of his officers by prompt and cheerful acquiescence in
the inevitable.

Presently some sailors brought down a tray with a number of hunks of
black bread, a large pot filled with a sort of broth, and a score of
earthenware mugs. Jack at once dipped one of the mugs into the pot, and,
taking a hunk of bread, sat down to his breakfast. A few others followed
his example, but most of them were too angry or too dispirited to care
about eating; and, indeed, it seemed to them that their refusal to
partake of the meal was a sort of protest against their captivity.

Half an hour afterward the sailors removed the food; and many of those
who had refused to touch it soon regretted bitterly that they had not
done so, for as the time went on hunger began to make itself felt. It
was evening before the next meal, consisting of black bread and a
great piece of salt beef, was brought down. This time there were no
abstentions. As the evening wore on fresh batches of prisoners were
brought in, until, by midnight, the number was raised to fifty. Many of
them had been seriously knocked about in their capture, and Jack, who
had persuaded his friend the sailor to bring down three or four more
buckets of salt water, did his best, by bathing and bandaging their
wounds, to put them at their ease.

In the morning he could see who were his companions in misfortune. Many
of them he knew by sight as loafers on the wharves and as troublesome or
riotous characters. Three or four were men of different type. There were
two or three respectable mechanics--men who had had, at various times,
drawn upon them the dislikes of the great men of the town by insisting
on their rights; and there were two idle young fellows of a higher
class, who had vexed their friends beyond endurance.

Presently the officer in charge of the recruiting party, who had now
come on board, came down into the hold. He was at once assailed with a
storm of curses and angry remonstrances.

“Look here, my lads,” he said, raising his hand for silence, “it is of
no use your going on like this, and I warn you that the sooner you make
up your minds that you have got to serve her majesty the better for
you, because that you have got to do it is certain. You have all been
impressed according to act of parliament, and there is no getting out
of it. It's your own fault that you got those hard knocks that I see the
marks of, and you will get more if you give any more trouble. Now, those
who choose to agree at once to serve her majesty can come on deck.”

Jack at once stepped forward.

“I am ready to serve, sir,” he said.

“That's right,” the officer replied heartily; “you are a lad of spirit,
I can see, and will make a good soldier. You look young yet, but that's
all in your favor; you will be a sergeant at an age when others are
learning their recruit drill. Now, who's the next?”

Some half dozen of the others followed Jack's example, but the rest were
still too sore and angry to be willing to do anything voluntarily.

Jack leaped lightly up on deck and looked round; the cutter was already
under weigh, and with a gentle breeze was running along the smooth
surface of Southampton waters; the ivy covered ruins of Netley Abbey
were abreast of them, and behind was the shipping of the port.

“Well, young un,” an old sergeant said, “so I suppose you have agreed to
serve the queen?”

“As her majesty was so pressing,” Jack replied with a smile, “you see I
had no choice in the matter.”

“That's right,” the sergeant said kindly; “always keep up your spirits,
lad. Care killed a cat, you know. You are one of the right sort, I can
see, but you are young to be pressed. How old are you?”

“Sixteen,” Jack replied.

“Then they had no right to take you,” the sergeant said; “seventeen's
the earliest age, and as a rule soldiers ain't much good till they are
past twenty. You would have a right to get off if you could prove your
age; but of course you could not do that without witnesses or papers,
and it's an old game for recruits who look young to try to pass as under
age.”

“I shan't try,” Jack answered; “I have made up my mind to it now, and
there's an end to it. But why ain't soldiers any good till they are past
twenty, sergeant? As far as I can see, boys are just as brave as men.”

“Just as brave, my lad, and when it comes to fighting the young soldier
is very often every bit as good as the old one; but they can't stand
fatigue and hardship like old soldiers. A boy will start out on as long
a walk as a man can take, but he can't keep it up day after day. When it
comes to long marches, to sleeping on the ground in the wet, bad food,
and fever from the marshes, the young soldier breaks down, the hospital
gets full of boys, and they just die off like flies, while the older men
pull through.”

“You are a Job's comforter, I must say,” Jack said with a laugh; “but
I must hope that I shan't have long marches, and bad food, and damp
weather, and marsh fever till I get a bit older.”

“I don't want to discourage you,” the sergeant remarked, “and you know
there are young soldiers and young soldiers. There are the weedy, narrow
chested chaps as seems to be made special for filling a grave; and there
is the sturdy, hardy young chap, whose good health and good spirits
carries him through. That's your sort, I reckon. Good spirits is the
best medicine in the world; it's worth all the doctors and apothecaries
in the army. But how did you come to be pressed? it's generally the
ne'er do well and idle who get picked out as food for powder. That
doesn't look your sort, or I'm mistaken.”

“I hope not,” Jack said. “I am here because I am a sort of cousin of the
Mayor of Southampton. He wanted me to serve in his shop. I stood it for
a time, but I hated it, and at last I had a row with his foreman and
knocked him down, so I was kicked out into the streets; and I suppose
he didn't like seeing me about, and so took this means of getting rid
of me. He needn't have been in such a hurry, for if he had waited a few
days I should have gone, for I had shipped as a boy on board of a ship
about to sail for the colonies.”

“In that case, my lad, you have no reason for ill will against this
precious relation of yours, for he has done you a good turn while
meaning to do you a bad un. The life of a boy on board a ship isn't one
to be envied, I can tell you; he is at every one's beck and call, and
gets more kicks than halfpence. Besides, what comes of it? You get to be
a sailor, and, as far as I can see, the life of a sailor is the life
of a dog. Look at the place where he sleeps--why, it ain't as good as
a decent kennel. Look at his food--salt meat as hard as a stone, and
rotten biscuit that a decent dog would turn up his nose at; his time
is never his own--wet or dry, storm or calm, he's got to work when he's
told. And what's he got to look forward to? A spree on shore when his
voyage is done, and then to work again. Why, my lad, a soldier's life is
a gentleman's life in comparison. Once you have learned your drill and
know your duty you have an easy time of it. Most of your time's your
own. When you are on a campaign you eat, drink, and are jolly at other
folks' expense; and if you do get wet when you are on duty, you can
generally manage to turn in dry when you are relieved. It's not a bad
life, my boy, I can tell you; and if you do your duty well, and you
are steady, and civil, and smart, you are sure to get your stripes,
especially if you can read and write, as I suppose you can.”

Jack nodded with a half smile.

“In that case,” the sergeant said, “you may even in time get to be an
officer. I can't read nor write--not one in twenty can--but those as
can, of course, has a better chance of promotion if they distinguish
themselves. I should have got it last year in the Low Country, and
Marlborough himself said, 'Well done!' when I, with ten rank and file,
held a bridge across a canal for half an hour against a company of
French. He sent for me after it was over, but when he found I couldn't
read or write he couldn't promote me; but he gave me a purse of twenty
guineas, and I don't know but what that suited me better, for I am
a deal more comfortable as a sergeant than I should have been as an
officer; but you see, if you had been in my place up you would have
gone.”

The wind fell in the afternoon, and the cutter dropped her anchor as the
tide was running against her. At night Jack Stilwell and the others
who had accepted their fate slept with the troops on board instead of
returning to rejoin their companions in the hold. Jack was extremely
glad of the change, as there was air and ventilation, whereas in the
hold the atmosphere had been close and oppressive. He was the more glad
next morning when he found that the wind, which had sprung up soon after
midnight, was freshening fast, and was, as one of the sailors said,
likely to blow hard before long. The cutter was already beginning to
feel the effect of the rising sea, and toward the afternoon was pitching
in a lively way and taking the sea over her bows.

“You seem to enjoy it, young un,” the sergeant said as Jack, holding
on by a shroud, was facing the wind regardless of the showers of spray
which flew over him. “Half our company are down with seasickness, and as
for those chaps down in the fore hold they must be having a bad time of
it, for I can hear them groaning and cursing through the bulkhead. The
hatchway has been battened down for the last three hours.”

“I enjoy it,” Jack said; “whenever I got a holiday at Southampton I used
to go out sailing. I knew most of the fishermen there; they were always
ready to take me with them as an extra hand. When do you think we shall
get to Dover?”

“She is walking along fast,” the sergeant said; “we shall be there
tomorrow morning. We might be there before, but the sailors say that the
skipper is not likely to run in before daylight, and before it gets dark
he will shorten sail so as not to get there before.”

The wind increased until it was blowing a gale; but the cutter was a
good sea boat, and being in light trim made good weather of it. However,
even Jack was pleased when he felt a sudden change in the motion of the
vessel, and knew that she was running into Dover harbor.

Morning was just breaking, and the hatchways being removed the sergeant
shouted down to the pressed men that they could come on deck. It was a
miserable body of men who crawled up in answer to the summons, utterly
worn out and exhausted with the seasickness, the closeness of the air,
and the tossing and buffeting of the last eighteen hours; many had
scarce strength to climb the ladder.

All the spirit and indignation had been knocked out of them--they were
too miserable and dejected to utter a complaint. The sergeant ordered
his men to draw up some buckets of water, and told the recruits to wash
themselves and make themselves as decent as they could, and the order
was sharply enforced by the captain when he came on deck.

“I would not march through the streets of Dover with such a filthy, hang
dog crew,” he said; “why, the very boys would throw mud at you. Come, do
what you can to make yourselves clean, or I will have buckets of water
thrown over you. I would rather take you on shore drenched to the skin
than in that state. You have brought it entirely on yourselves by your
obstinacy. Had you enlisted at once without further trouble you would
not have suffered as you have.”

The fresh air and cold water soon revived even the most exhausted of
the new recruits, and as soon as all had been made as presentable as
circumstances would admit of, the order was given to land. The party
were formed on the quay, four abreast, the soldiers forming the outside
line, and so they marched through Dover, where but yet a few people
were up and stirring, to the camp formed just outside the walls of the
castle. The colonel of the regiment met them as they marched in.

“Well, Captain Lowther, you have had a rough time of it, I reckon. I
thought the whole camp was going to be blown away last night. These are
the recruits from Southampton, I suppose?”

“Yes, colonel, what there is left of them; they certainly had a baddish
twelve hours of it.”

“Form them in line,” the colonel said, “and let me have a look at them.
They are all ready and willing to serve her majesty, I hope,” he added
with a grim smile.

“They are all ready, no doubt,” Captain Lowther replied; “as to their
willingness I can't say so much. Some half dozen or so agreed at once to
join without giving any trouble, foremost among them that lad at the end
of the line, who, Sergeant Edwards tells me, is a fine young fellow and
likely to do credit to the regiment; the rest chose to be sulky, and
have suffered for it by being kept below during the voyage. However, I
think all their nonsense is knocked out of them now.”

The colonel walked along the line and examined the men.

“A sturdy set of fellows,” he said to the captain, “when they have got
over their buffeting. Now, my lads,” he went on, addressing the men,
“you have all been pressed to serve her majesty in accordance with act
of parliament, and though some of you may not like it just at present,
you will soon get over that and take to it kindly enough. I warn you
that the discipline will be strict. In a newly raised regiment like this
it is necessary to keep a tight hand, but if you behave yourselves and
do your duty you will not find the life a hard one.

“Remember, it's no use any of you thinking of deserting; we have got
your names and addresses, so you couldn't go home if you did; and you
would soon be brought back wherever you went, and you know pretty well
what's the punishment for desertion without my telling you. That will
do.”

No one raised a voice in reply--each man felt that his position was
hopeless, for, as the colonel said, they had been legally impressed.
They were first taken before the adjutant, who rapidly swore them in,
and they were then set to work, assisted by some more soldiers, in
pitching tents. Clothes were soon served out to them and the work of
drill commenced at once.

Each day brought fresh additions to the force, and in a fortnight its
strength was complete. Jack did not object to the hard drill which they
had to go through, and which occupied them from morning till night, for
the colonel knew that on any day the regiment might receive orders to
embark, and he wanted to get it in something like shape before setting
sail. Jack did, however, shrink from the company in which he found
himself. With a few exceptions the regiment was made up of wild and
worthless fellows, of whom the various magistrates had been only too
glad to clear their towns, and mingled with these were the sweepings of
the jails, rogues and ruffians of every description. The regiment
might eventually be welded into a body of good soldiers, but at present
discipline had not done its work, and it was simply a collection of
reckless men, thieves, and vagabonds.



CHAPTER III: A DOMESTIC STORM


Great was the surprise of Dame Anthony when, on sending down her servant
with a letter to Jack Stilwell, the woman returned, saying that he had
left his lodging two days before and had not returned. All his things
had been left behind, and it was evident that when he went out he had no
intention of leaving. The woman of the house said that Master Stilwell
was a steady and regular lodger, and that she could not but think
something had happened to him. Of course she didn't know, but all the
town were talking of the men who had been taken away by the press gang,
and she thought they must have clapped hands on her lodger.

Dame Anthony at once jumped at that conclusion. The pressing of fifty
men had indeed made a great stir in the town during the last two days.
The mayor's office had been thronged by angry women complaining of their
husbands or sons being dragged away; and the mayor had been the object
of many threats and much indignation, and had the evening before
returned home bespattered with mud, having been pelted on his way from
the town hall by the women, and having only been saved from more serious
assaults by the exertions of the constables.

Dame Anthony had been surprised that her husband had taken these things
so quietly. Some of the women had indeed been seized and set in the
stocks, but the mayor had made light of the affair, and had altogether
seemed in an unusually good state of temper. Dame Anthony at once
connected this with Jack's disappearance. She knew that the list had
been made out by the mayor, and the idea that her husband had taken this
means of getting rid of Jack, and that he was exulting over the success
of his scheme, flashed across her. As the mayor was away at the town
hall she was forced to wait till his return to dinner; but no sooner
had the meal been concluded and Andrew Carson and the two assistants had
left the table than she began:

“Richard, I want to look at the list of the men who were pressed.”

The request scarcely came as a surprise upon the clothier. He had made
up his mind that his wife would be sure sooner or later to discover
that Jack was missing, and would connect his disappearance with the
operations of the press gang.

“What do you want to see that for?” he asked shortly.

“I want to see who have been taken,” his wife said. “There is no secret
about it, I suppose?”

“No, there is no secret,” the mayor replied. “According to the act of
parliament and the request of her majesty's minister I drew up a list
of fifty of the most useless and disreputable of the inhabitants of
this town, and I rejoice to say that the place is rid of them all. The
respectable citizens are all grateful to me for the manner in which
I have fulfilled the task laid upon me, and as to the clamor of a few
angry women, it causes me not a moment's annoyance.”

“I don't know why you are telling me all this, Richard,” his wife said
calmly. “I did not cast any reflections as to the manner in which you
made your choice. I only said I wished to see the list.”

“I do not see that the list concerns you,” the mayor said. “Why do you
wish to see it?”

“I wish to see it, Richard, because I suspect that the name of my Cousin
Jack Stilwell is upon it.”

“Oh, mother!” cried Alice, who had been listening in surprise to the
conversation, suddenly starting to her feet; “you don't mean that they
have pressed Jack to be a soldier.”

“Leave the room, Alice,” her father said angrily. “This is no concern of
a child like you.” When the door closed behind the girl he said to his
wife:

“Naturally his name is in the list. I selected fifty of the most
worthless fellows in Southampton, and his name was the first which
occurred to me. What then?”

“Then I tell you, Richard,” Dame Anthony said, rising, “that you are a
wretch, a mean, cowardly, cruel wretch. You have vented your spite upon
Jack, whom I love as if he were my own son, because he would not put
up with the tyranny of your foreman and yourself. You may be Mayor of
Southampton, you may be a great man in your own way, but I call you a
mean, pitiful fellow. I won't stay in the house with you an hour longer.
The wagon for Basingstoke comes past at three o'clock, and I shall go
and stay with my father and mother there, and take Alice with me.”

“I forbid you to do anything of the sort,” the mayor said pompously.

“You forbid!” Dame Anthony cried. “What do I care for your forbidding?
If you say a word I will go down the town and join those who pelted you
with mud last night. A nice spectacle it would be for the worthy Mayor
of Southampton to be pelted in the street by a lot of women led by his
own wife. You know me, Richard. You know when I say I will do a thing I
will do it.”

“I will lock you up in your own room, woman.”

“You won't,” Dame Anthony said scornfully. “I would scream out of the
window till I brought the whole town round. No, Mr. Mayor. You have had
your own way, and I am going to have mine. Go and tell the town if you
like that your wife has left you because you kidnapped her cousin, the
boy she loved. You tell your story and I will tell mine. Why, the women
in the town would hoot you, and you wouldn't dare show your face in the
streets. You insist, indeed! Why, you miserable little man, my fingers
are tingling now. Say another word to me and I will box your ears till
you won't know whether you are standing on your head or your heels.”

The mayor was a small man, while Dame Anthony, although not above the
usual height, was plump and strong; and her crestfallen spouse felt
that she was capable of carrying her threat into execution. He therefore
thought it prudent to make no reply, and his angry wife swept from the
room.

It was some time before the mayor descended to his shop. In the interval
he had thought the matter over, and had concluded that it would be best
for him to let his wife have her way. Indeed, he did not see how he
could do otherwise.

He had expected a storm, but not such a storm as this. Never before
in his fifteen years of married life had he seen his wife in such a
passion, and there was no saying whether she would not carry all her
threats into execution if he interfered with her now. No. It would be
better to let her go. The storm would blow over in time. It was natural
enough for her to go over and stay a few weeks with her people, and in
time, of course, she would come back again. After all, he had got rid of
Jack, and this being so, he could afford for awhile to put up with the
absence of his wife. It was unpleasant, of course, very unpleasant, to
be called such names, but as no one had heard them but himself it did
not so much matter. Perhaps, after all, it was the best thing that could
happen that she should take it into her head to go away for a time. In
her present mood she would not make things comfortable at home, and, of
course, his daughter would side with her mother.

Accordingly, when the carrier's wagon stopped at the door the mayor
went out with a pleasant countenance, and saw that the boxes were safely
placed in it, and that his wife was comfortably seated on some shawls
spread over a heap of straw. His attention, however, received neither
thanks nor recognition from Dame Anthony, while Alice, whose face was
swollen with crying, did not speak a word. However, they were seated
well under the cover of the wagon, and could not be seen by the few
people standing near; and as the mayor continued till the wagon started
speaking cheerfully, and giving them all sorts of injunctions as to
taking care of themselves on the way, he flattered himself that no one
would have an idea that the departure was anything but an amicable one.

A week later a letter arrived for Dame Anthony and the mayor at once
recognized the handwriting of Jack Stilwell. He took it up to his room,
and had a considerable debate with himself as to whether he would open
it or not. The question was, What did the boy say? If he wrote full of
bitter complaints as to his treatment, the receipt of the letter by his
wife would only make matters worse, and in that case it would be better
to destroy the letter as well as any others which might follow it, and
so put an end to all communication, for it was unlikely that the boy
would ever return to England.

Accordingly he opened the letter, and after reading it through, laid
it down with a feeling of something like relief. It was written in a
cheerful spirit. Jack began by saying that he feared Dame Anthony and
Alice would have been anxious when they heard that he was missing from
his lodgings.

“I have no doubt, my dear cousin, you will have guessed what has
befallen me, seeing that so many have been taken away in the same way. I
don't think that my late master acted handsomely in thus getting rid of
me; for, as the list was made up by him, it was of course his doing. But
you will please tell him from me that I feel no grudge against him. In
the first place, he did not know I was going away to sea, and it must
naturally have angered him to see one known to be connected with him
hanging about Southampton doing nothing. Besides, I know that he always
meant kindly by me. He took me in when I had nowhere to go, he gave
me my apprenticeship without fee, and, had it not been that my roving
spirit rendered me disinclined for so quiet a life, he would doubtless
have done much for me hereafter. Thus thinking it over, it seems to me
but reasonable that he should have been angered at my rejection of the
benefits he intended for me.

“In the next place, it may be that his action in shipping me off as a
soldier may in the end prove to be for my welfare. Had I carried out my
intention and gone as a sailor, a sailor I might have remained all my
life. It seems to me that as a soldier my chances are larger. Not only
shall I see plenty of fighting and adventure, which accords well with
my spirit, but it seems to me--and a sergeant who has shown me much
kindness says that it is so--that there are fair chances of advancement.
The soldiers are for the great part disorderly and ignorant men; and,
as I mean to be steady and obedient so as to gain the goodwill of the
officers, and as I have received a good education from my dear father,
I hope in time to come to be regarded as one somewhat different from the
common herd; and if I get an opportunity of distinguishing myself, and
do not get killed by a Spanish bullet or pike thrust, or by the fevers
which they say are not uncommon, then it is possible I may come back at
the end of the war with some honor and credit, and, the sergeant said,
may even obtain advancement to the rank of an officer. Therefore my late
master, having done me many good turns, may perhaps find that this last
one--even though he intended it not--is the best of all. Will you make
my respects to him, dear cousin, and tell him that I feel no grudge or
ill will against him? Will you give my love to my Cousin Alice? Tell her
that I will bring her home some rare keepsakes from Spain should they
fall in my way; and you know I will do the same for yourself, who have
always been so good and kind to me.”

“The boy is not a bad boy,” the mayor said, well pleased as he laid down
the letter. “It may be that I have judged him too harshly, seeing that
he set himself against what was best for his welfare. Still, one cannot
expect men's heads on boys' shoulders, and he writes dutifully and
properly. I believe it is the fault of Andrew Carson, who was forever
edging me on by reports of the boy's laziness and carelessness. He
certainly has a grudge against him, and he assuredly exceeded his place
and authority when he lifted his hand against my wife's cousin. It seems
to me truly that I have acted somewhat hastily and wrong headedly in the
matter. I shall give Master Carson notice that at the end of a month
I shall require his services no longer--the fellow puts himself too
forward. That will please Mary; she never liked him, and women in these
matters of likes and dislikes are shrewder than we are. Perhaps when she
hears that he is going, and reads this letter, which I will forward
to her by the carrier, she may come back to me. I certainly miss her
sorely, and the household matters go all wrong now that she is away. She
ought not to have said things to me; but no wise man thinks anything of
what a woman says when she's angry; and now that I think things over, it
certainly seems to me that she had some sort of warrant for her words.
Yes, I certainly don't know what can have come over me, unless it was
that fellow, Andrew Carson. Richard Anthony has not been considered a
bad fellow else he would never have become the Mayor of Southampton; and
for fifteen years Mary and I have got on very well together, save
for the little disputes which have arisen from her over masterful
disposition. But she is a good wife--none could wish for better--though
she is given to flame out at what she considers unrighteous dealings;
but every woman has her faults, and every man too as far as that goes,
and upon the whole few of them have less than Mary. I will write to her
at once.”

The mayor was not a man to delay when his mind was once made up, and
sitting down at a writing desk he wrote as follows:

“DEAR WIFE: I inclose a letter which has come for you from your Cousin
Jack. I opened it, and you will think poorly of me when I tell you that
had it been filled with complaints of me, as I expected, it would not
have come to your hands; for your anger against me is fierce enough
without the adding of fresh fuel thereto. But the lad, as you will see,
writes in quite another strain, and remembers former kindnesses rather
than late injuries. His letter has put it into my head to think matters
over, and in a different spirit from that in which I had previously
regarded it, and I have come to the conclusion that I have acted
wrongly; first, that I did not make allowances enough for the boy;
second, that I insisted on keeping him to a trade he disliked; third,
that I have given too willing an ear to what Andrew Carson has said
against the boy; lastly, that I took such means of freeing myself from
him. I today give Andrew Carson notice to quit my service--a matter in
which I have hitherto withstood you. I am willing to forget the words
which you spoke to me in anger, seeing that there was some foundation
for them, and that when a woman is in a passion her tongue goes further
than she means.

“Now, as I am ready to put this on one side, I trust that you also will
put aside your anger at my having obtained the pressing for a soldier
of your cousin. You can see for yourself by his writing that he does not
desire that any enmity shall arise out of the manner of his going. For
fifteen years we have lived in amity, and I see not why, after this
cloud passes away, we should not do so again.

“I miss you sorely. Things go badly with us since you have gone. The
food is badly cooked, and the serving indifferent. If you will write
to tell me that you are willing to come back, and to be a loving
and dutiful wife again, I will make me a holiday and come over to
Basingstoke to fetch you and Alice home again. I am writing to Jack
and sending him five guineas, for which he will no doubt find a use in
getting things suitable for the adventure upon which he is embarked,
for the payment of her majesty to her soldiers does not permit of the
purchase of many luxuries. On second thoughts I have resolved to pay
Andrew Carson his month's wages, and to let him go at once. So that if
you return you will not find one here against whom you have always been
set, and who is indeed in no small way the author of the matters which
have come between us, save only as touching the impressment, of which
I own that I must take the blame solely upon myself. Give my love to
Alice, and say that she must keep up her spirits, and look forward to
the time when her Cousin Jack shall come back to her after the killing
of many Spaniards.”

Having signed and carefully sealed this letter, with that from Jack
inclosed within it, the mayor then proceeded to write the following to
the young soldier:

“MY DEAR COUSIN JACK: I have read the letter which you sent to my wife,
and it is written in a very proper and dutiful strain. Your departure
has caused trouble between my wife and me; but this I hope will pass
away after she has read and considered your letter. She carried matters
so far that she is at present with your Cousin Alice at the house of
her parents at Basingstoke. Having read your letter, I write to tell
you that I feel that I am not without blame toward you. I did not see
it myself until the manner of your letter opened my eyes to the fact.
I have misunderstood you, and, being bent on carrying out my own
inclinations, made not enough allowance for yours. Were you here now I
doubt not that in future we should get on better together; but as that
cannot be, I can only say that I recognize the kind spirit in which
you wrote, and that I trust that in future we shall be good friends. I
inclose you an order for five guineas on a tradesman in Dover with whom
I have dealings. There are many little things that you may want to buy
for your voyage to supplement the pay which you receive. Andrew Carson
is leaving my service. I think that it is he greatly who came between
us, and has brought things to the pass which I cannot but regret.”

A week later the cloth merchant's shop in the High Street was shut up,
and the mayor, having appointed a deputy for the week he purposed to
be absent, took his place in the stage for Basingstoke, when a complete
reconciliation was effected between him and his wife.

The starting of the expedition was delayed beyond the intended time, for
the government either could not or would not furnish the required funds,
and the Earl of Peterborough was obliged to borrow considerable sums
of money, and to involve himself in serious pecuniary embarrassments to
remedy the defects, and to supply as far as possible the munition and
stores necessary for the efficiency of the little force he had been
appointed to command. It consisted of some three thousand English
troops, who were nearly all raw and undisciplined, and a brigade, two
thousand strong, of Dutch soldiers.

Early in May the regiment to which Jack Stilwell belonged marched
for Portsmouth, where the rest of the expedition were assembled, and
embarked on board the transports lying at Spithead, and on the 22d
of the month set sail for St. Helens, where they were joined on the
following day by their general, who embarked with his suit on board the
admiral's ship. On the 24th the fleet sailed for Lisbon.

Fond as Jack was of the sea, he did not find the change an agreeable
one. On shore the constant drill and steady work had fully occupied
the men, and had left them but little time for grumbling. On board ship
things were different. In those days there was but little of the strict
discipline which is now maintained on board a troop ship. It was true
that the vessels in which the expedition was being carried belonged to
the royal navy; but even here the discipline was but lax. There were
many good sailors on board; but the bulk of the crew had been pressed
into the service as harshly and tyrannically as were the soldiers
themselves, and the grumblers of one class found ready sympathizers
among the others.

The captain was a young man of good family who had obtained his
appointment solely by interest, and who, although he would have fought
his ship bravely in an action with the enemy, took but little interest
in the regular work, leaving such matters entirely in the hands of his
first lieutenant. The military officers were all new to their work.
On shore they had had the support which the presence of a considerable
number of veteran troops in garrison in the castle gave them; but they
now ceased to struggle against the difficulty of keeping up discipline
among a large number of raw and insubordinate recruits, relying upon
bringing them into order and discipline when they got them ashore in a
foreign country. Beyond, therefore, a daily parade, and half an hour's
drill in the handling of their firelocks, they interfered but little
with the men.

Sergeant Edwards with twenty of his men had at the last minute,
to Jack's great satisfaction, been drafted into the regiment, and
accompanied them on their voyage.

“Ay, they are a rough lot,” the sergeant said in answer to an
observation of Jack as to the grumbling of the men after they had been
at sea a few days; “but what can you expect when you take men from their
homes against their will, pick out the worst characters in each town,
make up their number with jail birds, and then pack them off to sea
before they have got into shape? There's nothing tries men more than a
sea voyage. Here they are packed up as close as herrings, with scarcely
room to move about, with nothing to do, and with food which a dog
would turn up his nose to eat. Naturally they get talking together, and
grumbling over their wrongs till they work themselves up.

“I wish the voyage was over. It wouldn't matter if we had a good steady
old crew, but more than half of them have been pressed; many of them are
landsmen who have been carried off just as you were. No doubt they would
all fight toughly enough if a Frenchman hove in view, but the captain
couldn't rely on them in a row on board. As long as the fleet keeps
together it's all right enough. Here are nine vessels, and no one on
board one knows what's going on in the others, but if the captain of
any one of them were to hoist a signal that a mutiny had broken out on
board, the others would be round her with their portholes opened ready
to give her a dose of round shot in no time.”

“But you don't think that it is really likely that we shall have any
trouble, sergeant?”

“There won't be any trouble if, as I am telling you, the weather holds
fine and the fleet keeps together; but if there's a gale and the ships
get scattered, no one can't say what might come of it.”

“I can't think how they could be so mad as to get up a mutiny,” Jack
said; “why, even supposing they did take the ship, what would they do
with it?”

“Them's questions as has been asked before, my lad, and there's sense
and reason in them, but you knows as well as I that there's many a craft
sailing the seas under the black flag. There isn't a ship as puts to sea
but what has half a dozen hands on board who have been in slavers, and
who are full of tales of islands where everything grows without the
trouble of putting a spade in the ground, where all sorts of strange
fruit can be had for the picking, and where the natives are glad enough
to be servants or wives, as the case may be, to whites. It's just such
tales as these as leads men away, and I will warrant there's a score at
least among the crew of the Caesar who are telling such tales to any who
will listen to them. Well, you see, it's a tempting story enough to one
as knows no better. On the one side there is a hard life, with bad food
and the chance of being shot at, and the sartainty of being ordered
about and not being able to call your life your own. On the other side
is a life of idleness and pleasure, of being your own master, and, if
you want something which the islands can't afford you, why, there's
just a short cruise and then back you come with your ship filled up with
plunder. I don't say as it's not tempting; but there's one thing agin
it, and the chaps as tells these yarns don't say much about that.”

“What is it, sergeant?”

“It's just the certainty of a halter or a bloody grave sooner or later.
The thing goes on for some time, and then, when merchant ship after
merchant ship is missing, there are complaints at home, and out comes
a ship or two with the queen's pennant at the head, and then either the
pirate ship gets caught at sea and sunk or captured, or there's a visit
to the little island, and a short shrift for those found there.

“No, I don't think it can pay, my lad, even at its best. It's jolly
enough for awhile, maybe, for those whose hearts are so hard that they
think nothing of scuttling a ship with all on board, or of making the
crew and passengers walk the plank in cold blood. Still even they must
know that it can't last, and that there's a gallows somewhere waiting
for them. Still, you see, they don't think of all that when a chap is
atelling them of these islands, and how pleasant the life is there, and
how easy it would be to do for the officers, and take the command of
the ship and sail away. Two or three chaps as makes up their mind for it
will poison a whole crew in no time.”

“You speak as if you knew all about it.”

“I know a good deal about it,” the sergeant replied gravely. “It's a
tale as there ain't many as knows; but you are a sort of lad as one can
trust, and so I don't mind if I tell it you. Though you wouldn't think
it, I have sailed under the black flag myself.”

“You, sergeant!” Jack exclaimed incredulously; “do you mean to say you
have been a pirate?”

“Just that, my boy. I don't look like it, do I? There ain't nothing
buccaneering about my cut. I looks just what I am, a tough old sergeant
in a queen's regiment; but for all that I have been a pirate. The yarn
is a long one, and I can't tell it you now, because just at present, you
see, I have got to go below to look after the dinners of the company,
but the first time as we can get an opportunity for a quiet talk I will
tell it you. But don't you go away and think till then as I was a pirate
from choice. I shouldn't like you to think that of me; there ain't never
no saying at sea what may happen. I might tumble overboard tonight and
get drowned, or one of the convoy might run foul of us and sink us, and
tomorrow you might be alive and I might be dead, and I shouldn't like
you to go on thinking all your life as that Sergeant Edwards had been
a bloody pirate of his own free will. So you just bear in mind, till I
tells you the whole story, as how it was forced upon me. Mind, I don't
say as how I hadn't the choice of death or that, and maybe had you been
in my place you would have chosen death; but, you see, I had never been
brought up as you were. I had had no chances to speak of, and being only
just about your age, I didn't like the thought of dying, so you see I
took to it, making up my mind secret at the same time that the first
chance I had I would slip away from them. I won't tell you more now,
I hain't time; but just you bear that in mind, in case of anything
happening, that if Sergeant Edwards once sailed under the black flag, he
didn't do it willing.”

The sergeant now hurried below, leaving Jack wondering over what he
had heard. Some days elapsed before the story was told, for a few hours
later the sky clouded over and the wind rose, and before next morning
the vessel was laboring heavily under double reefed topsails. The
soldiers were all kept below, and there was no possibility of anything
like a quiet talk. The weather had hitherto been so fine and the wind
so light that the vessels had glided over the sea almost without motion,
and very few indeed of those on board had experienced anything of the
usual seasickness; but now, in the stifling atmosphere between decks,
with the vessel rolling and plunging heavily, the greater part were soon
prostrate with seasickness, and even Jack, accustomed to the sea as he
was, succumbed to the unpleasantness of the surroundings.

On the second day of the storm Sergeant Edwards, who had been on deck to
make a report to the captain of the company, was eagerly questioned on
his return below on the condition of the weather.

“It's blowing about as hard as it can be,” he said, “and she rolls fit
to take the masts out of her. There don't seem no chance of the gale
breaking, and none of the other ships of the fleet are in sight. That's
about all I have to tell you, except that I told the captain that if
he didn't get the hatches lifted a little we should be all stifled down
here. He says if there's a bit of a lull he will ask them to give us
a little fresh air, and in the mean time he says that any who are good
sailors may go up on deck, but it will be at their own risk, for some of
the seas go pretty nearly clean over her.”



CHAPTER IV: THE SERGEANT'S YARN


Jack Stilwell and a few of the other men availed themselves of the
permission to escape for a time from the stifling atmosphere below, and
made their way on deck. For a time the rush of the wind and the wild
confusion of the sea almost bewildered them. Masses of water were
rushing along the deck, and each time she rolled the waves seemed as
if they would topple over the bulwarks. Several of the party turned
and went below again at once, but Jack, with a few others, waited their
opportunity and, making a rush across the deck, grasped the shrouds and
there hung on. Jack soon recovered from his first confusion and was able
to enjoy the grandeur of the scene.

Small as was the canvas she was showing, the vessel was traveling fast
through the waves, sometimes completely burying her head under a sea;
then as she rose again the water rushed aft knee deep, and Jack had
as much as he could do to prevent himself being carried off his feet.
Fortunately all loose articles had long since been swept overboard,
otherwise the risk of a broken limb from their contact would have been
serious.

In a quarter of an hour even Jack had had enough of it and went below,
and, having changed his drenched clothes, slung his hammock and turned
in. The next day the gale began to abate, and by evening the wind had
nearly died away, although the vessel was rolling as heavily as before
among the great masses of water which rolled in from the Atlantic.

The hatchways, however, were now removed, and all below ordered on deck,
and after awhile a party was told off to sluice down their quarters
below. The men were all weakened by their confinement, but their spirits
soon rose, and there was ere long plenty of laughter at the misfortunes
which befell those who tried to cross the deck, for the ship was rolling
so heavily that it was impossible for a landsman to keep his feet
without holding on.

The next morning, although a heavy swell was still rolling, the ship
assumed her normal aspect. The sailors had removed all trace of disorder
above, clothes were hung out to dry, and, as the ship was still far too
unsteady to allow of walking exercise, the soldiers sat in groups on
the deck, laughing and chatting and enjoying the warm sun whose rays
streamed down upon them. Seeing Sergeant Edwards standing alone looking
over the bulwark, Jack made his way up to him.

“It has been a sharp blow,” the sergeant said, “and I am glad it's over;
the last four days have been enough to sicken one of the sea for life. I
suppose you think this is a good opportunity for my yarn.”

“That is just what I was thinking, sergeant.”

“Very well, then, my lad, here goes. I was born at Poole. My people were
all in the seafaring line, and it was only natural that, as soon as I
got old enough to stand kicking, I was put on board a coaster plying
between Poole and London. It was pretty rough, but the skipper wasn't a
bad kind of fellow when he was sober. I stuck to that for three years,
and then the old craft was wrecked on Shoreham beach. Fortunately she
was driven up so far that we were able to drop over the bowsprit pretty
well beyond the reach of the waves, but there was no getting the Eliza
off. It was no great loss, for she would have had to be broken up
as firewood in another year or two. About six hours out of every
twenty-four I was taking my turn at spells at the pump.

“Now the Eliza was cast away, I had to look out for another ship. I
had had enough of coasters, so instead of going home I tramped it up to
London. Having got a berth on board a foreign bound vessel I made two
voyages out to Brazil and back. A fine country is the Brazils, but the
Portuguese ain't the fellows to make much out of it. Little undersized
chaps, they are all chatter and jabber, and when they used to come
alongside to unload, it were jest for all the world like so many
boatfuls of monkeys.

“Well, I starts for my third voyage, being by this time about sixteen
or seventeen. We got out to Rio right enough; but we couldn't get a full
cargo back, and the captain determined to cruise among the West Indy
Islands and fill up his ship. We were pretty nigh full when one morning
the lookout hailed that there were two vessels just coming out of an
inlet in an island we were passing some three miles on the weather bow.

“The captain was soon on deck with his glass, and no sooner did he make
them out than he gave orders to clap every sail on her. We hadn't a very
smart crew, but there are not many British ships ever made sail faster
than we did then. The men just flew about, for it needed no glass to
show that the two vessels which came creeping out from among trees
weren't customers as one wanted to talk to on the high seas. The one
was a brig, the other a schooner. They carried lofty spars ever so much
higher than an honest trader could want; and quick as we had got up our
sails, they had got their canvas spread as soon as we had.

“The ship was a fast sailer, but it didn't need half an hour to show
that they had the legs of us. So the skipper called the crew aft. 'Now,
my lads,' he said, 'you see those two vessels astern. I don't think it
needs any telling from me as to what they are. They might be Spaniards
or they might be French, or they might be native traders, but we are
pretty well sure they ain't anything of the kind. They are pirates--I
guess the same two vessels I heard them talking about down at Rio. They
have been doing no end of damage there. There were pretty nigh a dozen
ships missing, and they put them all down to them. However, a couple of
English frigates had come into Rio, and hearing what had happened had
gone out to chase them. They hadn't caught them, and the Brazilians
thought that they had shifted their quarters and gone for a cruise in
other latitudes.

“'The description they gave of them answered to these two--a brig and a
schooner, with low hulls and tall spars. One of them carries ten guns,
the other two on each side, and a heavy piece mounted on a swivel
amidship. It was said that before they went down to Brazil they had been
carrying on their games among the West India Islands, and had made it so
hot for themselves that they had been obliged to move off from there.
It was like enough that, now the hue and cry after them had abated, they
would return to their old quarters.

“'Well, my lads, I needn't tell you what we have to expect if they take
us. Every man Jack will either get his throat cut or be forced to walk
the plank. So we will fight her to the last; for if the worst comes
to the worst, it's better to be killed fighting like men than to be
murdered in cold blood. However, I hope it won't come to that. We carry
twelve guns, and they are heavier metal than most merchantmen have on
board. We are more than a match for either of them alone; and if we can
manage to cripple one, we can beat the other off.

“'At any rate we will try our best. Thank God we have no women on board,
and only ourselves to think of! Now, my lads, cast the guns loose and
get the ammunition on deck; run two of the guns aft and train them over
the stern. As soon as they come within range we will try and knock some
spars out of them. Now, boys, give three cheers for the old flag, and we
will swear together it shall never come down while there's one of us to
fight the ship.'

“The men gave three cheers and then went off to their quarters at the
guns. They were quiet and grave, and it was easy enough to see that they
did not like the prospect. An Englishman always goes into action, as
far as I have seen, with a light heart and a joke on his lips when he's
fighting against Frenchmen or Spaniards or any other foe, but it's a
different thing when it's a pirate he has to deal with. Every man knows
then that it's a case of life or death, and that he's got to win or die.
The enemy made no secret of what they were, for when they got within a
mile of us two black flags ran up to their mastheads.

“The captain he trained one of the stern chasers hisself, and the first
mate took the other. They fired at the same moment, both aiming at the
schooner, which was getting the nearest to us. They were good shots both
of them. The mate's ball struck the water some twenty yards in front
of her forefoot, and smashed her bow planking some three feet above the
waterline; while the captain's struck her bulwark, tore along her deck,
and went out astern, doing some damage by the way, I reckon.

“We could see there was some confusion on board. They hadn't reckoned
that we carried such heavy metal, and our luck in getting both shots on
board must have surprised them. Then her bow paid off, there was a puff
of smoke amidship, and a ball from the long swivel gun buzzed overhead,
passing through our mainsail without touching mast or stay.

“So far we had the best of it, and the men looked more cheerful than
they had done from the first moment when the pirates showed from among
the trees. After that we kept up a fire from the stern guns as fast as
we could load. I could not see myself what damage we were doing, for I
was kept hard at work carrying ammunition. Presently the broadside guns
began to fire too, and taking the chance for a look round I saw that the
pirates had separated, and were coming up one on each side of us.

“So far they had not fired a shot after the first. I suppose they didn't
want to lose ground by yawing, but as they came abreast of us they both
opened fire. Our chaps fought their guns well, and I expect the pirates
found they were not getting much the best of it; for one of them made a
signal, and they both closed in to board. We hadn't had much luck after
our first shot. We had hulled them over and over again and spotted their
sails with shot. Many of their ropes were hanging loose, but we hadn't
succeeded in crippling them, although almost every shot had been aimed
at the masts; for every man knew that our only chance was to bring them
down.

“As they came up close to us they poured in a volley of grape, and a
minute later they grated alongside and a crowd of men swarmed on board
over the bulwarks. Our fellows fought to the last, but the odds were
five to one against them. The skipper had been killed by a grapeshot,
but the mate he led the men; and if fighting could have saved us the
ship would not have been captured. But it was no use. In two minutes
every man had been cut down or disarmed. I had laid about me with
a cutlass till I got a lick over my head with a boarding pike which
knocked my senses out of me.

“When I opened my eyes I was hauled up to my feet and put alongside the
mate and six others, all of whom was bleeding more or less. The rest had
all been chucked overboard at once. In a minute or two the captain of
one of the pirates, a little dapper Frenchman, came up to us. 'You have
fought your ship well,' he said to the mate, 'and have killed several of
my officers and men; but I bear you no malice, and if you are ready
to ship with me I will spare your life.' 'I would rather die a hundred
times!' the mate said. The pirate said nothing, but just nodded, and
four of his men seized the mate and flung him over the bulwarks. The
same question was asked of each of the men; but each in turn refused,
and an end was made of them. I was the last.

“'Now, my boy,' the captain said, 'I hope you won't be stupid like those
pig headed fellows. What do you say--good treatment and a free life on
the sea, or the sharks?'

“Well, lad, if my turn hadn't been last I would have said 'no' like
the others. I wouldn't have shown the white feather before any of my
shipmates; but they had gone--there wasn't one to cast a reproachful
look at me or to taunt me with cowardice. I just stood alone; there
weren't no one to back me up in choosing to die rather than to serve,
and so I says, 'I will join you, captain.' I don't say I was right, lad;
I don't say I didn't act as a coward; but I think most young chaps with
my bringing up, and placed as I was, would have done the same. There's
many as would have said 'no' if they had had comrades and friends
looking on, but I don't think there's many as would have said 'no' if
they had stood all alone as I did.

“I can't say as I blame myself much about that business, though I have
thought it over many a score of times; but anyhow, from the first I made
up my mind that at the very first chance I would get away from them. I
knew the chance wasn't likely to come for some time--still there it was;
and during all the black scenes I took part in on board that ship I was
always telling myself that I was there against my will.

“It was the brig as I was to go in. And as soon as that little matter of
the crew was settled all hands set to work to shift the cargo from the
ship aboard the pirates. Wonderful quick they did it too; and when I
thought how long that cargo had taken to get on board, it was wonderful
how soon they whipped it out of her. When they had stripped her of all
they thought worth taking, they ran one of the cannon to the open hatch,
loaded it and crammed it full of balls to the muzzle; then they pointed
it down the hold and fired it, and were soon on board their own craft.

“The charge must have torn a great hole in the ship's bottom, for I
could see she was settling down in the water before we had left her five
minutes, and in a quarter of an hour she gave a sudden lurch and sank.
As I was in for it now, I knew the best thing was to put a good face
on it, so I lent a hand at shifting the cargo and did my best to seem
contented. We sailed off in company, and in the morning when I came on
deck I found the two craft riding side by side in a land locked harbor.

“A few minutes later the boats were lowered and the work of getting the
cargo on shore began. It was clear enough that this was the pirates'
headquarters; for there were lots of huts built on the sloping sides of
the inlet, and a number of men and women stood gathered on the shore to
receive us as we landed. The women were of all countries, English and
French, Dutch, Spaniards, and Portuguese, with a good sprinkling of dark
skinned natives. All the white women had been taken prisoners at some
time or other from vessels which had fallen into the pirates' hands,
and though most of them must have been miserable enough at heart, poor
creatures, they all made a show of being glad to see the men back again.
It was but a week, I learned, since the pirates had sailed, and it was
considered a great stroke of luck that they should so soon have effected
a capture.

“No one attended to me, but I worked hard all day with the others rowing
backward and forward between the shore and the ship. When it became dusk
they knocked off work, and the men went off to their huts, for it seemed
that each of them had a wife, brown skinned or white. Seeing that nobody
paid any attention to me, I went off to the little captain, who was
making his way up to a hut of a better class than the others.

“'What is to become of me, captain?' I asked. 'Ah! I had not thought of
you,' he said; 'well, you can go up with me and get some supper, and
you can have a blanket and sleep on my veranda for tonight; we will see
where you can be lodged in the morning.' I followed him into his house,
and was astonished as I entered at the luxury of the apartment, which
far exceeded anything I had ever seen before. The plank walls were
concealed by hangings of light green silk, a rich carpet covered the
floor, the furniture was most handsome and massive, and had no doubt
been intended for the palace of the Spanish governor of some of the
islands. A pair of candelabra of solid silver stood on the table, and
the white candles in them, which had just been lighted, threw a soft
glow of light over the room and lighted up the table, on which was a
service, also of solid silver, with vases and, lovely flowers. A young
woman rose from a couch as he entered: 'I have been expecting you for
the last half hour, Eugene. You have worked longer than usual this
evening; if the fish are spoiled you must not blame Zoe.'

“The speaker was a tall and very handsome woman, and I now understood
how it was that my captor spoke such excellent English. There was a deep
expression of melancholy on her face, but she smiled when speaking to
the pirate, and her tone was one of affection.

“'I have brought home a countryman of yours, Ellen. I forgot to allot
him quarters until it was too late, so please give him over to the care
of Zoe and ask her to give him some supper and a blanket; he will sleep
in the veranda.'

“The first look which the woman gave me as the captain spoke made me
wish that instead of speaking to the captain I had lain down fasting
under a tree, there was so much contempt and horror in it; then, as I
suppose she saw I was but a boy, it changed, and it seemed to me that
she pitied me from her heart; however, she clapped her hands and a
negress entered. She said something to her in Spanish, and the old woman
beckoned me to follow her, and I was soon sitting in front of a better
meal than I had tasted for many a month, perhaps the best meal I had
tasted in my life.

“As she couldn't speak English there was no talking with the old woman.
She gave me a tumbler of stiff rum and water to drink with my supper,
and after I had done she handed me a blanket, took me out into the
veranda, pointed to the side where I should get the sea breeze, and left
me. I smoked a pipe or two and then went to sleep. I was awakened in the
morning by some one coming along the veranda, and, sitting up, saw the
lady I had seen the night before. 'So you are English?' she said. 'Yes,
ma'am,' says I, touching my hat sailor fashion. 'Are you lately from
home?' she asked. 'Not very late, ma'am,' says I; 'we went to Rio first,
and not filling up there were cruising about picking up a cargo when--'
and I stopped, not knowing, you see, how I should put it. 'Are there
any more of you?' she asked after awhile in a low sort of voice. 'No,
ma'am,' says I; 'I am the only one.' 'I did not ask,' she said almost
in a whisper, and I could see her face was 'most as white as a sheet, 'I
never ask. And so you have joined them?' 'Yes,' says I, 'I couldn't help
it, ma'am. I was the last, you see; if there had been any one else to
have encouraged me I should have said no, but being alone--' 'Don't
excuse yourself, poor boy,' she said; 'don't think I blame you. Who am
I that I should blame any one? It is little I can do for you, but if
you should want anything I will do my best to befriend you.' I heard the
captain's voice calling. Suddenly she put her finger to her lips, as a
hint to me to hold my tongue, and off she went.

“I don't know whether the captain's wife spoke to him about me or not,
but at any rate he didn't tell me off to any of the huts, but kept me
at the house. I used to go down in the day to work with the other men
unloading the ship and stowing away the stores, but they only worked for
a few hours morning and evening, lying in hammocks slung under the trees
during the heat of the day. I made myself useful about the house, helped
the old woman to chop wood, drew water for her, attended to the plants
in the little garden round the house, trained the creepers up the
veranda, and lent a hand at all sorts of odd jobs, just as a sailor will
do.

“When, ten days after we arrived, the ships got ready for another
cruise, I was afraid they would take me with them, and I lay awake at
nights sweating as I thought over the fearful deeds I should have to
take part in; but the captain gave me no orders, and to my delight the
men embarked and the ships sailed away without me. I found there were
some forty men left behind, whose duty it was to keep a sharp lookout
and man the batteries they had got at the entrance to the cove in case
any of our cruisers came in sight.

“The man who was in command was a Spaniard, a sulky, cruel looking
scoundrel. However, he didn't have much to do with me; I took my turn at
the lookout with the rest of them, and besides that there was nothing
to do. The men on shore had all been in one or other of the ships when I
was taken; for I found there were about a hundred and sixty of them, and
a quarter stayed at home by turns, changing after each cruise, whether
it was a long or short one.

“The captain's wife often spoke to me now; she would come out and sit in
the veranda while I was at work. She asked me what part I came from, and
where I had sailed, and what friends I had at home. But she never said
a word to me about the capture of the ship. She always looked sad now,
while she had been cheerful and bright while the captain was on shore.
In time she got quite friendly with me, and one day she said, 'Peter,
you will have to go to sea next time, what will you do?'

“'I must do as the others do, God forgive me,' says I; 'but don't think,
ma'am, as ever I shall do it willing. It may be years before I gets a
chance, but if ever I does I shall make a run for it, whatever the risk
may be. I speaks free to you, ma'am, for I feel sure as you won't say
a word to no man, for it would cost me my life if they thought that I
wasn't with them willing.'

“'I will not tell any one, Peter, you may be sure,' she said; 'but I do
not think you will ever have a chance of getting away--no one ever does
who once comes here.'

“Well, in time, lad, she lets out bit by bit a little about herself. She
had been on her way out to join her father, who was an officer of the
East Indy Company, when the ship was taken by the pirates. The men was
all killed, but she and some other women was taken on board the pirate
and at last brought there. The French captain took a fancy to her from
the first, and after she had been there a year brought a Spanish priest
they captured on board a ship and he married them. The pirates seemed to
think it was a joke, and lots of them followed the captain's example and
got married to the women there. What they did with the priest afterward,
whether they cut his throat or landed him in some place thousands of
miles away, or entered him on board ship, is more nor I know.

“There's no doubt the captain's wife was fond of her husband; pirate as
he was, he had not behaved so bad to her--but except when he was with
her she was always sad.

“She had an awful horror of the life he led, and with this was a terror
lest he should fall into the hands of a cruiser, for she knew that if
he hadn't the good luck to be killed in the fight, he would be tried and
hung at the nearest port. It was a kind of mixed feeling, you see; she
would have given everything to be free from the life she was leading,
and yet even had she had the chance she would not have left her husband.
I believe he had promised her to give it up, but she must have knowed
that he never would do it; besides, if he had slipped away from the ship
at any place where they touched he could not have got her away, and her
life would have paid for his desertion.

“But I don't think he would have gone if he could, for, quiet and nice
as he was when at home, he was a demon at sea. Ruffians and scoundrels
as were his crew, the boldest of them were afraid of him. It was not a
word and a blow, but a word and a pistol shot with him; and if it
hadn't been that he was a first rate seaman, that he fought his ships
splendidly, and that there was no one who could have kept any show of
order or discipline had he not been there, I don't believe they would
have put up with him for a day.

“Well, lad, I sailed with them for three voyages. I won't tell you what
I saw and heard, but it was years before I could sleep 'well at night,
but would start up in a cold sweat with those scenes before my eyes and
those screams ringing in my ears. I can say that I never took the life
of a man or woman. Of course I had to help to load the cannon, and when
the time for boarding came would wave my cutlass and fire my pistols
with the best of them; but I took good care never to be in the front
line, and the others were too busy with their bloody doings to notice
what share I took in them.

“We had been out about a fortnight on my third voyage, and the schooner
and brig were lying in a little bay when we saw what we took to be a
large merchant ship coming along. She was all painted black, her rigging
was badly set up, her sails were dirty and some of them patched, she
was steering east, and seemed as if she was homeward bound after a long
voyage. Off we went in pursuit, thinking we had got a prize. She clapped
on more sail, but we came up to her hand over hand. She opened fire with
two eight pounders over her stern. We didn't waste a shot in reply, but
ranged up alongside, one on each beam. Then suddenly her sides seemed to
open, fifteen ports on each side went up, and her deck swarmed with men.

“A yell of dismay went up from the schooner which I was on. In a moment
a flash of fire ran along the frigate's broadside; there was a crash of
timber, and the schooner shook as if she had struck on a rock. There was
a cry, 'We are sinking!' Some made a wild rush for the boats, others in
their despair jumped overboard, some cursed and swore like madmen
and shook their fists at the frigate. It seemed no time when another
broadside came.

“Down came the foremast, crushing half a dozen men as she fell. Her deck
was nearly level with the water now. I climbed over the wreck of the
foremast, and run out along the bowsprit. I looked round just as I
leaped. The pirate captain was standing at the wheel. He had a pistol
to his head, and I saw the flash, and he fell. Then I dived off and swam
under water as hard as I could to get away from the sinking ship. When I
came up I looked round. I just saw the flutter of a black flag above the
water and she was gone. I was a good swimmer, and got rid of my shoes
and jacket, and made up my mind for a long swim, for the frigate was too
busy with the brig for any one to pay attention to us, but it did not
take long to finish it.

“In five minutes it was over. The brig lay dismasted, and scarce a dozen
men out of the forty she carried were alive to throw down their arms
on deck and cry that they surrendered. Then the frigate's boats were
lowered; two rowed in our direction, while two put off to the brig.
There were only nine of us picked up, for from the first broadside till
we sank a heavy musketry fire had been poured down upon the deck, and
as we were not more than fifty yards away from the frigate, the men had
been just mowed down. We were all ironed as soon as we were brought on
board. After that we were brought up one by one and questioned.

“'You are young to be engaged in such work as this,' the captain said
when my turn came.

“'I was forced into it against my will, sir,' I said.

“'Yes,' the captain said, 'I suppose so; that's the story each of the
prisoners tells. How long have you been with them?'

“'Less than six months, sir.'

“'How old are you?'

“'I am not seventeen yet. I was boy on board the Jane and William. We
were taken by the pirates on our way back from Rio, and all except me
killed or thrown overboard.'

“'And you bought your life by agreeing to sail with them, I suppose?'
the captain said contemptuously.

“'I did, sir,' I said; 'but I was the last they asked; all the others
had gone, and there warn't no one to back me up.'

“'Well, boy, you know what your fate will be,' the captain said;
'there's no mercy for pirates.'

“The next day the captain sent for me again, and I took heart a little,
for I thought if they had made up their minds to hang me they wouldn't
have questioned me.

“'Look here, lad,' the captain said; 'you are the youngest of the
prisoners, and less steeped in crime than any here, therefore I will
at once make you an offer. If you will direct us to the lair of the
pirates, I promise your life shall be spared.'

“'I don't know the latitude and longitudes sir,' I said, 'and I doubt if
any besides the captain and one or two others do, but I know pretty well
whereabout it is. We always set sail at night and came in at night, and
none was allowed on deck except the helmsman and two or three old hands
till morning; but when I was ashore and on duty at the lookout I noticed
three trees growing together just at the edge of the cliff at the point
where it was highest, two miles away from the entrance to the cove. They
were a big un and two little uns, and I feel sure if I were to see them
again I should know them.'

“'Very well,' the captain said, 'I shall make for port at once, and hand
over the prisoners to the Spanish authorities, then I will start on a
cruise with you, and see if we can find your trees.'

“From the description I could give him of the islands we passed after we
had been at sea a few hours, and the time it took us to sail from them
to some known points, the captain was able to form a sort of idea as to
which group of islands it belonged to, and when he had reached port and
got rid of his prisoners, all of whom were garroted--that's a sort of
strangling, you know--by the Spaniards, a week afterward, we set out
again on our search for the island.”



CHAPTER V: THE PIRATE HOLD


“The frigate was again disguised as a merchantman, as, if she had passed
within sight of the island looking like a ship of war, it would have put
the pirates on their guard, and I had told the captain there were guns
enough at the mouth of the cove to blow the ship's boats out of the
water. As to the frigate getting in, I knew she couldn't, for there was
only just enough water at the entrance for the pirate vessels to enter
in. I was not in irons now, but spent my time on deck; and a wretched
time it was, I can tell you, for not a sailor on board would speak to
me.

“For three weeks we cruised about, sailing round island after island,
but at last as we were approaching one of them I saw the three trees.

“'That's the place,' I said to the boatswain, who was standing near me,
and he carried the news to the quarterdeck, and brought back word I was
to go to the captain.

“You are sure those are the trees?'

“'Quite sure, sir.'

“'They answer to your description certainly,' the captain said. 'Keep
her away, master, I don't want them to think we are steering for the
island.'

“The ship's course was altered, and she sailed along parallel with the
coast.

“'I beg your pardon, sir,' I said, touching my hat, 'but they have got
some wonderful good glasses up at the lookout, and if I might make so
bold I should say that they will make out that we have got a lot more
men on deck than a merchant ship would carry.'

“'You are right, lad,' the captain said, and he at once gave orders that
all hands with the exception of half a dozen should sit down under the
bulwarks or go below. The captain and first lieutenant kept a sharp
lookout through their glasses until we had passed the end of the island.
I pointed out to them the exact position of the cove, but it was so shut
in that even when I showed where it was, it was as much as they could do
to make it out.

“'Now, lad, do you know of any other landing places on the other side of
the island?'

“'No, sir, and I don't believe there is any,' says I. I know the captain
said to me the first day I was on shore, 'It's no use your thinking of
making a bolt, for there ain't no other place but this where you could
get to sea--not though you had twenty boats waiting to take you off.' I
expect that's why they chose it. Anyhow, there never was any watch kept
up on shore, though. I have no doubt there was many a one who had been
pressed into pirating just as I was, to save their lives, would have
made off had they seen ever such a little chance of getting away.

“'Just come into the cabin with me,' says he; 'I want you to show me
exactly where are these batteries, and the position of the village on
shore.'

“The first lieutenant came too, and I drew them out a chart as well as
I could, showing them the position of things, and told them that every
evening a boom was floated across the entrance.

“'What sentries are there on at night?'

“'Four, sir; two close down to the water, one each side of the cove, and
two in the batteries at the top. That's the watch, but besides there
are six men sleep in each of the other batteries, and six in each of the
batteries inside.'

“'Tell me more about the place and the life you led there,' the captain
said, 'and then I shall understand the position of things better.'

“So I spun him a regular yarn about the place and the people. I told him
about the captain's wife, and she being an English woman, and how she
was taken, which indeed was the way of most of the women there.

“'I suppose that a good many of the men were pressed too,' the captain
said.

“'I expects so, sir; but when we were together on guard or on board a
ship I noticed we never talked of such things. It seemed to me as if
every one was trying to forget the past, and I think that made them more
brutal and bloody minded than they would have been. Every one was afraid
of every one else guessing as he wasn't contented, and was wanting to
get away, and so each carried on as bad as he could.'

“'I dare say you are right, lad; it must be a terrible position for a
man to be in; but you see the law can make no distinctions. If it
wasn't thoroughly understood that if a man took up the life of a pirate,
whether willingly or unwillingly, he would assuredly be executed if he
was caught, we should have the sea swarming with pirates. Now, lad, you
know how this boom was fastened; can you suggest any way that we could
get over it or loosen it without giving the alarm?'

“'There is no way, sir. One end is fastened by a big chain which is
fixed to a great shackle which is let into a hole in the rock and
fastened in there with lead; that's the fixed end of the boom. The other
end, which is swung backward and forward when the ships go in port, has
got a big chain too. It goes under an iron bar which is bent, and the
two ends fastened in a rock. When they want to fix the boom the end
of the chain is passed under this iron loop and then fastened to some
blocks and ropes worked from the battery above, and the end of the chain
is drawn up tight there, so that there is no loosing the chain till that
battery is taken.'

“'And you say the guns of the lower batteries at the inner point sweep
the entrance?'

“'They do, sir. There are ten of them on each side, twelve pounder
carronades, which are always charged, and crammed up to the muzzle with
bullets and nails and bits of iron. The batteries on the top of the
cliff at the entrance are the heaviest metal. They have got twenty guns
in each of them. They are loaded with round shot to keep a vessel from
approaching, though of course they could fire grape into any boats they
saw coming in.'

“'This does not seem an easy business by any means, Mr. Earnshaw,' the
captain said.

“'It does not, sir,' the lieutenant agreed in a dubisome sort of way;
'but no doubt it can be done, sir--no doubt it can be done.'

“'Yes, but how?' the captain asked. 'You will be in command of the
boats, Mr. Earnshaw, and it will never do to attack such a place as that
without some sort of plan.'

“'What is the boom like, my lad?' the lieutenant asked; 'is it lashed
together?'

“'No, it is a solid spar,' I said. 'The entrance is not more than forty
feet wide, and the boom is part of the mainmast of a big ship.'

“'It seems to me,' said the lieutenant, 'that the only way to get at it
would be to go straight at the boom, the two lightest boats to go first.
The men must get on the spar and pull the boats over, and then make a
dash for the batteries; the heavy boats can follow them.'

“'It would never do, Mr. Earnshaw,' the captain said. 'You forget there
are twelve guns loaded to the muzzle with grape and musketballs all
trained upon a point only forty feet across. Would it be possible to
land just outside the boom, lad, on one or both sides, and to keep along
the edge, or wade in the water to the batteries?'

“'No, sir, the rock goes straight up from the water both sides.'

“'Well, the two sentries, how do they get down to the water's edge?'

“'They are let down by rope from above, sir, and the rope is hauled up
as soon as they are down.'

“'This is a deuce of a place, Mr. Earnshaw,' the captain said. 'We must
do nothing hastily in this matter, or we shall only be throwing away
the lives of a lot of men, and failing in our object. I was intending to
sail on and not return for a week, for no doubt they will be specially
vigilant for a time after seeing a large ship pass them. As it is, I
will return tonight to the back of the island, and will there leave the
cutter and my gig. You will be in charge of the cutter, and Mr. Escombe
will take the gig. I shall then sail away again before daylight; for
although from what the lad said there is no watch kept on that side of
the island, it cannot be more than three miles across, and any of the
men or women might stroll across or might from any high point in the
island obtain a view that way. You will make a thorough survey of all
that side. The cliffs certainly seem, so far as we could see them as we
left the island, as perpendicular as they are on the side we passed;
but there may be some place easier than another--some place where, by
setting our wits to work, we may make a shift to climb up. Get into the
island I will, if I have to blast a flight of steps up the cliff.'

“'I will do my best to find a place, sir,' the lieutenant said; 'and, if
there isn't one, I will make one.'

“The lieutenant told me that I was to accompany him in the cutter, and
all was got ready for the trip. Water and a week's rations of food were
placed on board the boats; for in that climate there was no saying when
a gale might spring up, or how long the vessel might be before she got
back to pick up the boats.

“When we were fairly out of sight of the island we lay to till it got
dusk, and then her head was pointed back again. There was scarce a
breath of wind stirring, and the vessel went through the water so
slowly that a couple of hours later the captain ordered the boats to be
lowered, for he saw that if the wind didn't freshen the ship could not
get to the island, much less get away again, before daylight. The oars
were got out and off we started, and after four hours' steady rowing,
the lieutenant, who was steering by compass, made out the land looming
high above us. Another quarter of an hour's row and we dropped our
grapnels close to the foot of the cliffs, and the men were told to get a
sleep as well as they could till morning.

“As soon as it was daylight we were off again and rowed to the end of
the island; for, as Mr. Earnshaw said to the third lieutenant, we had
best begin at the end and do the work thoroughly. When we got to the
point we turned and rowed back, keeping about two hundred yards from
the cliff, so that we could see well up. They were about a hundred feet
high--sometimes a little less, sometimes a good bit more, and they went
as straight up from the water's edge as the cliffs at Dover, only there
weren't no beach. It was deep water right up to the foot.

“We went along very slowly, the men only just dipping their oars into
the water, and all of us watching every foot of the cliffs. Sometimes we
would stop altogether while the officers talked over the possibility of
any one climbing up at some place where the water trickling down from
the top had eaten away the face a little; but not a goat in the world
could have climbed up them, not to say men. So we kept on till we got to
the other end of the island, which must have been five miles long. Not a
place could we see.

“'Unless we are going to do as the captain said--blast steps up the face
of that rock--I don't believe it's to be done,' Lieutenant Earnshaw said
to Mr. Escombe. 'Well, there's nothing to do, lads, but to row in
and drop your grapnels again and wait till we see the ship's lights
tonight.'

“Although we rowed in to within an oar's length of the cliff, there was
eight fathoms of water when we dropped the grapnels. We had been lying
there an hour when the third lieutenant said:

“'I should think, Mr. Earnshaw, that if we were to bring the pinnace
with that four pounder gun in the bow and up end it, and with a small
charge fire a ball with a rope fastened to it up into that clump of
trees we saw just about the middle of the island, it might get caught.'

“'So it might, Escombe, and the idea is a good one; but I doubt whether
there's a man on board ship could climb a rope swinging like that
against the face of those cliffs.'

“'He might if we used a knotted rope,' Mr. Escombe said.

“'I wouldn't mind making a try, yer honor,' one of the sailors said, and
half a dozen others volunteered their readiness to make the attempt.

“'I will put it to the captain,' Mr. Earnshaw said; 'if he agrees, as
you were the first to volunteer, Jones, you shall have the chance.'

“The day was dead calm, so was the night that followed it; and although
we rowed back to the end of the island from which we had come, no lights
were to be seen that night.

“The next day passed slowly. The sun was hot; but toward evening the
lieutenant gave permission for the men to bathe; but warned us that no
man must go far from the boats, because there might be sharks about.
However, we didn't see none, and we enjoyed the dip, and were in better
humor still when we found that a light breeze was springing up. It
might have been about midnight when the men on watch made out a light to
seaward, and we weren't long in getting up our grapnels and sitting our
oars. In half an hour we were on board, and were soon sailing away from
the island again.

“The next night in we came again, and I saw that the third lieutenant's
plan was going to be adopted; in fact, I guessed so before; for the sail
makers had been at work with two light ropes making a rope ladder, and
the ship's smith had got some empty shells on deck, and had made a shift
to screw some iron eyes into them for fixing ropes to. The gun was taken
out of the pinnace and a little mortar fixed in her, and half a dozen
ropes, each a hundred fathoms long, had knots put in them every two
feet.

“The launch and the two cutters were lowered as well as the pinnace this
time, and the crews were armed with cutlass and pistol. I went with them
as before, as I should be wanted to guide them when they got near the
village. It was a bright starlight night without haze, so that when we
got close we could make out the outline of the cliffs, and could see the
thick wood growing on the top. When we got within about a hundred yards
of the cliffs the boat stopped rowing.

“'Don't use more powder than you can help, gunner,' Mr. Earnshaw said.
'In the first place, we don't want to do more than carry out the rope
to its full length; in the next place, we don't want to make more noise
than we can help. What wind there is is fortunately blowing seaward,
and being so close under the cliff the sound will be echoed back. At the
same time the less noise the better.'

“'I will begin with very little, sir. If the ball don't go to the top of
the cliff I shall put a trifle more into the gun next time; it's better
to make a mistake on the right side.'

“A small quantity of powder was put in the mortar, which was only a four
inch one. Then a wad was put in, and a shell with one of the knotted
ropes fastened to it dropped in the top. The rope had been coiled in a
tub so as to run out easily. The gunner applied the match. There was a
dull report, and every man held his breath to listen. There was a thud
high up on the cliff and then a splash.

“'A few feet short of the top, I should say, gunner. You must put in
more next time, for the shell must go well up over the trees and drop
among them; otherwise it won't catch.'

“The gunner by the light of the lantern measured out half as much powder
again as he had used before, and then fired. This time we heard no sound
till there was a faint splash in the water.

“'The rope's gone, sir,' the gunner said, looking into the tub. 'There
was a little too much this time.'

“'I don't think so,' Mr. Escombe said. 'I think that splash was the end
of the rope touching the water. In that case it will be just right, a
hundred feet up the cliffs, and five hundred feet among the trees. No
fear of the rope coming back to us.'

“It took us a quarter of an hour's search in the dark to find the rope;
but at last we came upon it, and sure enough there was only four or five
fathoms in the water.

“'Now, Jones,' Mr. Earnshaw said, 'it's your turn. Put that light line
over your shoulders, and when you get to the top haul on it till you
get up the rope ladder, and fasten that to a stout trunk and give a low
hail. We will hold the rope as steady as we can below while you mount.'

“'Ay, ay, sir,' said the man, who was an active young chap; 'I will be
up there in a jiffy.'

“We fastened the lower end round one of the thwarts of the boat, and
then he began to climb. It was near five minutes before he got to the
top, for there were some nasty places where the cliff jutted out, and
the rope was hard against it; but presently the shaking ceased, and a
minute later the light line was hauled tight. There was a low cheer in
the boats, and then up went the rope ladder. A minute or two later there
was a hail from the top.

“'All taut, sir.'

“'I will go first,' Mr. Earnshaw said.

“Accordingly up he went, and one by one we followed, each waiting for
the signal that the one before him had got up, till all had gone except
the two told off as boat watch. Then the men of the launch and cutters
followed, and in about two hours they were all at the top, and a lantern
was shown to tell the ship we were there.

“We started at once across the island, Mr. Earnshaw keeping the line by
a pocket compass. It was rough work, though, and at last the lieutenant
said:

“'We make such a noise going through the bushes that we had better wait
till daylight, so just halt where you are, lads.'

“As soon as the first ray of light showed we were off again, and an hour
later reached the edge of the slope down to the cove.

“'Now, remember,' the lieutenant said, 'that no woman is to be hurt.
All the men who resist are to be shot or cut down; but you are to take
prisoners all who throw down their arms. Some of them may be able to
prove themselves less guilty than the rest. At any rate, there is no
fear of the Spanish authorities being too merciful. These pirates have
been the scourge of these seas for the last six years.'

“Well, lad, there ain't much more to tell you. We took them completely
by surprise, and the men in the village were all knocked down and bound,
without firing a shot. The men in the batteries tried to slew their guns
round, but we didn't give 'em time. They fought desperately, for they
knew what their doom was, and there weren't any prisoners taken there.
As soon as the village was taken I went straight with Mr. Escombe to
the captain's house. His wife was standing at the door, and she gave
a little cry as she saw the British uniforms, and ran a step or two to
meet us, then she stopped, and her arms dropped by her side.

“'What! you, Peter!' she said as we came up. 'Is it you who led them
here?'

“'Yes, ma'am, it was me,' says I, 'and the best thing I could do for
you, for you could not wish to stay here all your life with just the
people that are here.'

“'But what has happened?' she said. 'How is it you are here? What has
become of the schooner?'

“'The schooner is sunk, ma'am, and the brig is captured.'

“'And my husband?'

“'Well, ma'am, don't you take on, but your husband went down with the
schooner.'

“She tottered, and I thought she would have fallen, but Mr. Escombe put
his arm round her and led her to the house and left her there, putting
two sailors on guard to see as she wasn't disturbed. An hour or two
later the frigate was off the cove, and the captain landed. We stopped
a week there, and carried off all there was worth taking; and I tell
you there was enough to give every man Jack on board a handsome share of
prize money when the things came to be sold afterward.

“Money, there was lots of it, all stored away in what they called the
treasure house, for money was no good there. Jewels and ornaments,
watches, and the things which they uses in them Catholic churches, and
all kinds of valuable things, and stores of silks and velvets and all
kinds of materials; and as to wine and such like, there was enough
to have lasted them for years, for from first to last it was shown
afterward that those fellows must have captured more nor fifty vessels.
Why they shouldn't have stopped ashore and enjoyed what they got was a
mystery to me. But I suppose they couldn't do without excitement, and
though every man talked of the time when the treasure would be divided
and they were to scatter, I don't suppose as one ever expected as the
time would really come.

“Well, arter everything was on board, and the women and children, the
place was burned, and we sailed for the nearest Spanish port. We had
had a sort of court martial on board the frigate, and two or three young
chaps like myself, and two men as was proved to have been captured in
the pirates' last cruise, and who hadn't been to sea with them or taken
part in any of their bloody doings, was kept on board ship, and the rest
was handed over to the Spanish authorities. Most of them was garroted,
and a few was condemned to work on the roads for life. I and the others
was taken back to England in the frigate, whose foreign time was up,
and when we got to Portsmouth we was drafted into a regiment there, and
lucky we thought ourselves to get off so easy. The captain's wife and
some of the other white women came home to England on board the frigate.
She was very low at first, but she brightened up a good deal toward
the end of the voyage, which lasted two months. She grieved over her
husband, you see, but she couldn't but have felt that it was all for the
best. I heard afterward as how two years after she married Mr. Earnshaw,
who by that time had got to be a captain. So that, you see, my lad, is
how I came to fight under the black flag first and then to be a soldier
of the queen. I didn't mean it to be sich a long yarn, but when I once
began it all came back to me, and you see, I haven't spoken of it for
years. You don't think altogether as I was very wrong, I hope.”

“I thank you very much for your story, sergeant,” Jack replied. “I only
wish it had been longer; and although it's very easy to say that a man
ought to die rather than consent to be a pirate, I don't think there are
many lads who would choose death if they were placed as you were.”

“I am glad you think that, young un; it's always been a sore point with
me, I have done my duty since, and no one can say as he's ever seen
Sergeant Edwards show the white feather. But the thought that that once
I did not act as a brave man would have done has always troubled me.”

The next day, as the sea went down, and the recruits recovered from the
effects of the confinement and sickness, they again began to talk among
themselves. The fact that all the other vessels of the fleet were out of
sight naturally encouraged them. Jack observed, however, that the call
to parade on deck was answered with more quickness than before, and the
exercises were gone through with a painstaking steadiness greater than
had been shown since the embarkation. When the men were dismissed from
parade Jack remarked this to the sergeant.

“Ay, ay, lad, I noticed it too,” the sergeant said, shaking his head,
“and in my opinion it's a bad sign. They want to throw the officers
off their guard. It's a pity you have been seen talking so much to me,
because, of course, they won't say anything when you are listening; but
one or two of the men who came into the regiment with me have dropped
a word as they happened to pass this morning that they wanted to have
a word if they could get one without being noticed, so I hope to hear a
little more tonight.”

That evening, before going below, Jack had an hour's talk with Sergeant
Edwards.

“It's just as I thought,” the latter said, “they've got an idea of
seizing the ship. The men I spoke of managed to get a few words with me
this evening. They don't know anything about piracy. All they have heard
is that there is a proposal to seize the ship and to carry her into
one of the northern ports of Spain, where the men will land and give up
their arms to the Spanish authorities, and then either disperse and make
their way home by twos and threes as best they can, or they will take
service with the King of Spain, who, they think, will pay them a deal
better than the English government.

“A part of the crew are in the scheme. These, the men tell me, do not
intend to land, but only tell the others that they shall sail away.
That's about what I thought would be. The greater part of these fellows
only wants to get quickly home again, while the sailors, who may want to
go abuccaneering, would not care about having the soldiers with them.
I shall give a hint to the captain of my company tonight as to what
is going on, but I don't much expect he will pay any attention to it.
Officers never believe these things till it is too late, and you see
I can't give them any names yet or prove what I say; besides, likely
enough, any inquiry set on foot would only bring the matter to a head.
We must wait till we know something sure.

“You keep your ears open, my boy, and your eyes too, and I will do the
same. If it comes, and you see a chance of warning the captain of the
ship or the first lieutenant in time, you do it; but don't you do it if
you don't think there's time enough, or if you can't do it without being
seen. If it's too late, and you are found out, they would just chuck you
overboard or knock you on the head, and you will have done no good
after all, and perhaps only caused bloodshed. Like enough, if matters
go quietly, there won't be no bloodshed, and the officers and those who
stick to them will just be turned adrift in the boats, or maybe handed
over to the Spanish at the port they go into as prisoners.”

Jack promised to follow the sergeant's instructions, and went below. He
thought that the men were unusually quiet, and taking his blanket--for
although some of the soldiers slept in hammocks, the majority lay on the
deck wrapped in their blankets--he lay down by the side of a gun whose
port had been opened to admit air between decks. After thinking the
matter over for some time, and wondering what would be the end of it, he
dropped off into a light sleep.

Presently he was aroused by a confused sound. Looking round cautiously,
he saw by the dim light of the lantern that most of the men were on
their feet. Some of them were taking down their firearms from the arm
racks; small groups were stooping over some of the sleeping figures; and
to the mast, close to which one of the lanterns hung, two or three
men were bound, and two soldiers with pikes were standing by them. The
crisis, then, had come, and Jack at once proceeded to carry out the plan
he had thought out after he lay down.

Very quietly he crawled out through the porthole, and then raised
himself and stood on the muzzle of the gun. There he could reach the
foot of the shrouds of the foremast, which happened to be immediately
above the port. He swung himself up, and, placing his hands on the edge
of the bulwark, cautiously looked over.

At present all was quiet there; the signal from below had not been
given, and the troops on deck--for, owing to the numbers on board,
one fourth were always on deck in fine weather--were standing about or
sitting in groups. Keeping his feet on the ledge which ran round level
with the deck, and his fingers on the top of the bulwark, Jack managed
to edge his way aft until he reached the line of the quarterdeck. Here
the line of the bulwark ceased, the cabins of the officers rising, as
was usual in those days, in a double tier high about the waist.

The nearest porthole, which was open, was but three feet long, and Jack,
reaching forward, put one hand in it and continued his way. The porthole
was but just large enough for him to squeeze through. Looking in before
he attempted it he saw an officer asleep immediately below him. It was
the ensign of his own company. Leaning in he touched him gently. After
one or two attempts, the young officer opened his eyes, saying, “What is
it? It's not morning yet.”

“Hush, sir,” Jack said earnestly; “I am Jack Stilwell of your company.
There is a mutiny, sir, forward. Please help me in, I want to warn the
captain of the ship, and he will know what to do.”

The young officer leaped from his bunk and assisted Jack to enter.

“I will come with you,” he said, hastily dragging on his trousers and
coat. “Are you sure of what you say?”

“Quite sure, sir; the noncommissioned officers are bound; it may begin
at any moment.”

The ensign led the way to the captain's cabin, which he opened and
entered without ceremony.

“What is it?” the captain exclaimed. The ensign said who he was, and
Jack repeated his story.

“The dogs!” the captain said, “we will teach them a lesson. Let me see,
the second lieutenant is on duty; rouse all the other officers;” and he
himself assisted them to do so. In a minute or two they were gathered
hastily attired, with sword and pistol, in the captain's cabin.

“Do you, Mr. Hartwell,” the captain said, addressing the first
lieutenant, “go below and rouse the boatswain and petty officers,
and bid them get together all the men they can depend upon, arm them
quietly, and be ready to rush on deck the instant a stir is heard
forward among the soldiers. Any man who disobeys orders, shoot him
instantly. Do you, sir,” he said to the second officer, “go to the
magazine with four of the midshipmen, open it and bring up charges of
grape for the guns on the quarterdeck. Be as quick as you can. Now,
gentlemen, the rest of us will make our way up quietly, one by one,
to the quarterdeck. Go well aft, so that the men in the waist will not
notice you. Directly the cartridges come up we will load the guns, and
be in readiness to slew them across the deck; and in the mean time, if
they should attack before we are ready, we must hold the ladders to the
last.”

One by one the officers stole out from the cabin with bare feet, and
made their way up to the quarterdeck, until some thirty of them were
gathered there, being all the officers of the regiment, the naval
officers, and midshipmen. The night was a dark one, and this was
accomplished without the movement being noticed by any of those in the
waist of the ship.



CHAPTER VI: A COMMISSION


The moments passed slowly and anxiously, for if the mutineers were to
pour up from below before the cartridges arrived and the lieutenant had
got the petty officers and men on whom they could rely ready for action,
it was improbable that the officers would be able successfully to oppose
the rush of the men, armed as these would be with matchlock and pike.

The mutineers, however, believing that there was no occasion to hurry,
were quietly carrying out their intentions. The noncommissioned officers
had all been seized, tied, and placed under sentries, whose orders were
to pike them if they uttered a word. A strong guard had been placed at
the foot of the gangway to prevent any of the soldiers who were not in
the plan from going on deck and giving the alarm. The muskets were not
loaded, as on embarkation all ball cartridges had, as usual, been stowed
away in the magazine; but they reckoned upon obtaining possession of
this at the first rush. The ringleaders proceeded to form the men in
fours, so that they could pour on to the deck in military order. The men
of each company were told off to separate work. Two companies were to
clear the decks, where, on their appearance, they would be joined by
their comrades there, and to overpower any sailors who might offer
resistance.

Another company was to run down and secure the magazine, and, breaking
it open, to serve out cartridges to all. Two other companies were to
rush aft and overpower the officers; the sixth and seventh were to form
round the head of the hatchway leading to the decks where the sailors
slept, and to allow only those to come on deck who had entered into the
plot. The other three companies were already on deck. The arrangements
were excellent, but the care taken in preparing for them, and the
necessity for doing this in silence lest the stir should be heard and an
alarm be given on deck, occupied time which the officers were turning to
advantage.

As soon as the captain and naval men had gained the quarterdeck they
threw off the lashings of the guns, and had all in readiness for running
them in and taking them aft to the edge of the quarterdeck. There was
a deep sensation of relief as one after another the midshipmen joined
them, each carrying three cartridges of grape, and followed by the
gunner with four more. The lieutenant was to stay below to lead the
sailors on to the deck.

The gunner brought a message saying that all was well. Many of
the sailors were found to have turned into their hammocks without
undressing, and to have hand pikes or cutlasses concealed beneath
the clothes. These, however, had been surprised and taken without the
slightest noise; as, on finding a lantern on one side of their heads
and a pistol on the other, each had submitted without the slightest
resistance. All these had been sent down to the hold below, and a guard
placed over them. The guns were loaded and the whole of the officers
divided among them in readiness to run them forward. Four or five
minutes passed, then a shout was heard forward and a low rush of many
feet.

In an instant the four guns on the quarterdeck were run across. While
this was being done there was a clashing of swords, shouts, and a noise
of conflict heard forward, and at the same time a loud cheer arose,
while from the after hatchway a dark body of men rushed up on to the
deck and formed across it. Some midshipmen, who had been told off for
the duty, ran up from the officers' cabin with lighted lanterns, which
were ranged along at the edge of the quarterdeck.

There was a rush aft of the mutineers, but these recoiled astonished at
the sight of the pikes which confronted them, and the line of sailors
four deep across the deck, while at the same moment the light of the
lanterns showed them the officers on the quarterdeck, and the four
guns pointed threateningly toward them. For a moment a silence of
astonishment and dismay succeeded the uproar which had preceded it, then
the captain's voice was heard:

“Down with your arms, you mutinous dogs, or I will blow you into the
air. It is useless to resist. We are prepared for you, and you are
without ammunition. Throw down the arms on the decks, every man of you,
before I count three, or I fire. One--two--”

There was a loud clattering of arms, mingled with shouts of--“We
surrender; don't fire, sir, don't fire.”

“It's all over,” the captain said grimly. “Mr. Hartwell, march your men
forward, shoot any scoundrel instantly whom you find with arms in his
hands, collect all the weapons and bring them aft.

“Now, Colonel Clifford,” he said, turning to the officer in command of
the regiment, “if you go below with the officers, you can unloose the
noncommissioned officers; they will be able to point out to you the
ringleaders in this business. They had better be ironed at once and put
into the hold. You will have no more trouble now, I fancy.”

In ten minutes the whole of the arms had been collected and stored
up, the noncommissioned officers had pointed out some twenty of the
ringleaders, and these were safely in irons below, while a strong guard
of armed sailors was placed between decks to see that there was no
renewal of insubordinate conduct. There was, however, no fear of this;
the men were thoroughly cowed and humiliated by the failure of their
plan, and each was occupied only in hoping that he had not been
sufficiently conspicuous to be handed over in the morning to join the
prisoners below.

There was no more sleep that night on board the ship. After breakfast
two courts martial were held, the one by the naval, the other by the
military officers. The latter sentenced two men, who were convicted
on the testimony of the noncommissioned officers as having been the
leaders, to be hung, and the sentence was at once carried out. The
regiment was formed in close order on deck unarmed and witnessed the
execution of their comrades, who were hung up to the extremities of
the main yard. The other prisoners were sentenced to two hundred lashes
apiece--a punishment which was, according to the ideas of the time,
very lenient, such a punishment being frequently administered for
comparatively trifling offenses, and the prisoners considered themselves
fortunate in escaping hanging, for which, indeed, they had prepared
themselves.

Previous to the administration of their punishment the colonel addressed
the men, and told them that all the ringleaders had been found guilty
and sentenced to death, but that the members of the court martial had
agreed with him that, considering the youth and inexperience of the
offenders and the whole circumstances of the case, it would be possible
to remit the death sentence, confident that the prisoners and the whole
of the regiment would recognize the leniency with which they had
been treated, and would return to their duty with a firm and hearty
determination to do all in their power to atone for their misconduct,
and to show themselves true and worthy soldiers of the queen. If this
was the case, no further notice would be taken of the error; but at the
same time he warned them that he had by him a long list of men who had
taken a prominent part in the affair, and that the first time any of
these misconducted themselves they might be well assured that no mercy
would be shown to them.

The naval court martial showed no greater severity than that
administered by the military officers. The vessel was short handed, and
moreover the officers did not wish the stigma to attach to the ship of
a serious mutiny among the crew. Had any of these been hung, the matter
must have been reported; but as none of the crew had absolutely taken
part in the rising, however evident it was that they intended to do
so, no sentences of death were passed. But a number of the men were
sentenced to be flogged more or less severely, those who had but lately
been pressed getting off with comparatively light punishments, while
the heaviest sentences were passed on the older hands concerned in the
affair.

The arms of the troops continued to be kept under a strong guard until,
ten days later, the rest of the fleet were seen, just as the northern
point of Portugal was made out. A few hours later the fleet was united;
and the next day, the wind dying entirely away, Colonel Clifford
proceeded in a boat to the flagship to report to the Earl of
Peterborough the mutiny which had taken place in his regiment, and its
successful suppression.

Immediately the mutiny had been put down Jack Stilwell had stolen away
and rejoined the soldiers forward; and although there was much wonder
among the men as to how the affair had been discovered, none suspected
him of having betrayed them, and believed that the officers must have
been warned by some word incautiously let drop in their hearing. Only to
Sergeant Edwards did Jack reveal what had taken place.

“Do you know, lad, I guessed as you had had a hand in the business
somehow. When I was standing tied up against the mast I had to keep my
mouth shut; but I had the use of my eyes, and I could not make you out
among them. I might have missed you, of course; but your company was
formed up close to where I was standing, and I thought I should have
seen you if you had been there. I could not think what had become of
you; but when the men came pouring down again without their arms, and I
heard them cursing and swearing because the sailors and the officers and
all was found in readiness to receive them, it somehow came to my mind
as that you was at the bottom of it--though how, I could not for the
life of me make out, for I knew you had gone below when I did.”

“I wish, sergeant, that when you are examined, as you will be about this
affair, you will ask Captain Curtis to ask the colonel not to let it
be known publicly that it was I who warned him, for my life would
be unbearable among the men if they knew it. And if it didn't happen
before, it would be certain that the first time we went into action I
should get a bullet in my back.”

“You are right there, my lad. I will tell the captain. You may be sure
your conduct won't be overlooked; but at present, as you say, the less
said about it the better.”

An hour after Colonel Clifford had gone on board the flagship the boat
returned with orders that Private Stilwell, of D Company, was to go back
with them. The order was given to Captain Curtis, who sent first for
Sergeant Edwards.

“Go forward, sergeant, and tell Stilwell that he is to go on board the
flagship. No doubt the colonel has spoken to the general. Tell the lad
apart, and let him make his way aft here to the gangway quietly, so that
he won't be noticed. If any of the men happen to see him going off in
the boat, they may suppose that the colonel has only sent for some man
who can write; and naturally if the captain had ordered me to choose a
man, I should have picked him out.”

On reaching the deck of the flagship Jack was conducted to the admiral's
cabin. At the head of the table was seated a man whom Jack recognized
at once, from the description he had heard of him, as the Earl of
Peterborough. He was small and very spare in person, his features were
pleasant, his nose somewhat prominent, his eye lively and penetrating.
He had laid aside the immense wig which, in accordance with the custom,
he wore when abroad or at court in England; and Jack saw his hair, which
was light brown and somewhat scanty. The admiral of the fleet sat next
to him; for although Peterborough had the command of the expedition
both at land and sea, an admiral was in command of the fleet under him.
Colonel Clifford was seated on the earl's left, and several other naval
and military officers were at the table.

“Well, young man,” Peterborough said, “Colonel Clifford has been telling
us that it is due to you that I have not a regiment the less under my
orders, and that her majesty has not lost a ship from the list of her
navy. He says that the whole thing was so quickly done that he has
not been able to learn the full particulars from you, and that he has
abstained from questioning you because you did not wish any suspicion
to be excited among the men of the part you played in it. Now, please to
tell me the whole history of the affair.”

Jack thereupon related how his suspicions had been aroused by Sergeant
Edwards, who was only waiting for sufficient opportunity and a certainty
of information to divulge the plot to the officers. He then related
his awaking as the mutiny began, and the steps he had taken to warn the
officers. When he had done, the earl said:

“You have acted smartly and well, young man; you have shown promptness,
courage, and fidelity. You speak above your rank. What is your
parentage?”

“My father was a clergyman, sir,” Jack said, “but being dispossessed of
his living in the troubles, could not make his case known on the return
of King Charles; but he supported himself by teaching, and gave me such
education as he could, in hope that I too should enter the ministry.
But my thoughts did not incline that way; and when he died, and also my
mother, I thought of going to sea, when it happened that I was pressed
for a soldier. And seeing that it was so, I made up my mind to make the
best of things.”

“And you have done so, young man; and right glad am I that your
education and parentage are such that I can reward you as I should wish.
I give you a discharge now from your regiment and appoint you ensign.
You will at present form one of my staff; and glad am I to have so
dashing and able a young officer ready to hand for any perilous service
I may require.”

On the 20th of June the fleet sailed up the Tagus.

Jack had not returned on board his ship.

“Better stop here,” the earl said. “If you went back, and they heard you
were promoted, likely enough some of them might toss you overboard on
a dark night. We will set the tailors at once to work to rig you up an
undress uniform. You can get a full dress made at Lisbon. Not that you
will be wanting to wear that much, for we have come out for rough work;
still, when we ride triumphantly into any town we have taken, it is as
well to make a good impression upon the Spanish donnas. And, say what
they will, fine feathers go a long way toward making fine birds. Do you
write a good hand?”

“I think I write a pretty fair one, sir.”

“That is good. I write a crabbed stick myself, and there's nothing I
hate more than writing; and as for these young gentlemen, I don't think
they will be of much use for that sort of thing. However, I shan't have
a great deal of it. But you shall act as my secretary when necessary.”

The earl's orders to the tailors were peremptory to lose no time in
fitting Jack with an undress suit, and in twenty-four hours he was able
to join the mess of the young officers and volunteers who accompanied
the general. These were all young men of good family; and having heard
how Jack had saved the ship from mutiny, they received him among them
with great heartiness, which was increased when they found that he was
well educated and the son of a gentleman.

It was a great satisfaction to Jack, that owing to the kindness and
generosity of the earl, he was able to pay his expenses at mess and to
live on equal terms with them; for the general had dropped a purse with
a hundred guineas into his hand, saying:

“This will be useful to you, lad, for you must live like the other
officers. I owe it to you many times over for having saved me that
regiment, upon whose equipment and fitting out I had spent well nigh a
hundred times that sum.”

Some of the officers were but little older than Jack, and by the time
the ship dropped anchor in the Tagus he was quite at home with them.

“What a lovely city!” he said as he leaned over the bulwark and looked
at the town standing on the steep hills sloping down to the river.

“Yes, indeed,” Graham, one of the young officers, agreed. “But I fancy
the Portuguese are but poor creatures. The Earl of Galway writes in his
dispatches that they are great at promises, but he finds he can expect
little assistance from them.”

“Have you any idea whether we are going to land here?”

“No; wherever we land, you may be sure it won't be here. The Earl of
Galway has been here two or three months, and he has some good regiments
with him. Our chief would be losing his position did we land here, as
he has a separate command, and would of course be under Galway if the
forces were joined. The Dutch fleet is to be here in a day or two, and
the Archduke Charles sailed a fortnight before we did; and as we have
made a very slow voyage of it, he ought to have been here long ago. What
a talk there will be! What with the archduke, and the Portuguese, and
the Dutch, and the Prince of Hesse Darmstadt, and the Earls of Galway
and Peterborough, and probably every one of them with his own ideas and
opinions, it will be hard to come to any arrangement. Besides there will
be dispatches from the British court, and the court of the Netherlands,
and the Austrian emperor, all of whom will probably differ as to what
is the best thing to be done. There will be a nice to do altogether.
There's one thing to be said, our chief can out talk them all; and he
can say such disagreeable things when he likes that he will be likely
to get his own way, if it's only to get rid of him. There goes his boat
into the water. What an impatient fellow he is, to be sure.”

No sooner had Peterborough landed than he turned all his energies to
obtain the supplies which had been denied to him at home, and after much
difficulty he succeeded in borrowing a hundred thousand pounds from
a Jew named Curtisos on treasury bills on Lord Godolphin, with the
condition that the lender should be given the contract for the supply of
provisions and other requisites for the army. The day that the earl had
carried out this arrangement he returned on board radiant. Hitherto
he had been terribly out of temper, and Jack, who had become his
amanuensis, had written at his dictation many very sharp notes to every
one with whom he had come in contact. As soon as he came on board he
sent for Jack to his cabin.

“Sit down, Mr. Stilwell. I have a dispatch for you to write to the lord
treasurer. I have got my money, so that difficulty is at an end. It is
glorious! I couldn't get a penny out of them before I sailed, now I have
got as much as I want. I would give a thousand guineas out of my own
pocket to see Godolphin's face when he reads my dispatch, and finds that
he's got to honor bills for a hundred thousand pounds; it will be better
than any comedy that ever was acted. How the pompous old owl will fret
and fume! But he will have to find the money for all that. He can't
begin the campaign by dishonoring bills of her majesty's general, or no
one would trust us hereafter. You haven't seen my lord treasurer, Mr.
Stilwell?”

“No, sir, I have not been at court at all.”

“That's a pity,” the earl said; “for you lose the cream of the joke.
Now, I shall go on shore tomorrow and get everything that is wanted, and
then the sooner we are off the better; we have been here a fortnight,
and I am sick of the place.”

Jack was by no means sick of Lisbon, for he enjoyed himself vastly. The
town was full of troops--English, Dutch, and Portuguese. Of an evening
there were fetes and galas of all kinds, and as the earl always attended
these, Jack and the other young officers were permitted to go ashore
either in full uniform to take part in the fetes, or to enjoy themselves
according to their fancies.

As Graham had predicted, it was some time before any conclusion was
arrived at as to the destination of the fleet. Several councils were
held, but no decision was come to. Peterborough's orders were so vague
that he could use his own discretion. He had, indeed, been recommended
to prevail upon the Archduke Charles to accompany him and to proceed
to Italy, where he was to form a junction with Victor Amadeus, Duke of
Savoy, who was sorely pressed by the armies of France.

A messenger, however, arrived by sea with an order from the queen that
the fleet should proceed to the coast of Catalonia, in consequence of
information which had been sent to the British court of the favorable
disposition of the Catalans toward the Archduke Charles. This was in
accordance with the counsel which the Prince of Hesse Darmstadt had been
strenuously urging, and his recent success in the capture and
subsequent defense of Gibraltar gave weight to his words and effaced the
recollection of his failure before Barcelona in the previous year.

The final decision rested in a great measure with the Archduke Charles,
who at last decided to proceed with Lord Peterborough and land upon the
coast of Spain and test the disposition of his Valencian and Catalan
subjects. The reasons for Peterborough's falling in with the decision to
move on Barcelona are explained in a dispatch which he dictated to Sir
George Rooke on the 20th of July.

“Upon the letter of my Lord Godolphin and the secretary of state,
the King of Spain, his ministers, and my Lord Galway and myself have
concluded there was no other attempt to be made but upon Catalonia,
where all advices agree that six thousand men and twelve hundred horse
are ready expecting our arrival with a general goodwill of all the
people. The Portuguese have entirely refused to join in any design
against Cadiz, and by a copy of my Lord Galway's letter you will find he
is in an utter despair of their attempting anything this year, and that
by our instructions it will appear that there is no other enterprise
left for our choice.”

Peterborough's military force was, however, wholly insufficient for such
an enterprise. He prevailed upon Lord Galway to give him a part of Lord
Raby's and General Cunningham's regiments of English dragoons, although
the Portuguese strenuously opposed this being done. Their conduct,
indeed, at this time was very similar to that which they adopted a
hundred years later toward the Duke of Wellington, throwing every
conceivable obstacle in the English commander's way, and opposing every
plan of action which he suggested. Many of the dragoons were without
horses, but Lord Peterborough mounted them on animals which he bought
with some of the money he had procured from Curtisos.

The Prince of Hesse Darmstadt went on ahead to Gibraltar to arrange for
a portion of the garrison to accompany the expedition. On the 28th of
July the Archduke Charles embarked with Lord Peterborough on board the
Ranelagh, and an hour later the fleet put to sea. Off Tangiers they were
joined by the squadron under Sir Cloudesley Shovel, and a few days later
they reached the Bay of Gibraltar.

Here they found that the Prince of Hesse Darmstadt had arranged that
the battalion of the guards, with three other veteran regiments that had
borne part in the gallant defense of the fortress, were to be embarked,
and two of the newly raised corps Lord Peterborough had brought out from
England were to take their place in the garrison. The regiment to which
Jack had belonged was one of these. As soon as he heard the news he took
the first opportunity of speaking to the earl.

“I have a favor to ask, sir.”

“What is that, lad?”

“It is, sir, that Sergeant Edwards, who, if you remember, advised me
about warning the officers of the mutiny, should be transferred to one
of the regiments coming on board.”

“Certainly, my lad; I had not forgotten him. I truly wish that he had
sufficient education to give him a commission. I sent to inquire of his
colonel, but finding that he could not read or write, and that he would
be out of place among the officers, I could not do it; but I will gladly
take him with us on active service. It would be hard on a good soldier
to be left behind with that mutinous set of rascals.”

Jack had already heard from Sergeant Edwards, whom he had met several
times on shore at Lisbon, and who had rejoiced most heartily at his
promotion, that Lord Peterborough had sent him, through the colonel, a
purse of fifty guineas as a reward for his conduct.

Jack immediately proceeded in a boat to his old vessel, with an order
from the earl that the sergeant should be at once transferred into one
of the regiments coming on board. The sergeant was delighted, for orders
had already been received for the regiment to disembark and form part of
the garrison.

An hour later the Archduke Charles landed, amid the thunder of the
guns of the fleet and fortress, for here for the first time he was
acknowledged as and received the honor due to the King of Spain. There
was but little delay--Lord Peterborough's energy hurried every one else
forward, and on the 5th of August the fleet again put to sea, the king
and the Prince of Hesse Darmstadt accompanying it.

The winds were contrary, and it was not till the 11th that they anchored
in Altea Bay, at the mouth of the Guadalaviar, on the Valencian coast.
On the other side of the roadstead stood the castle and village of
Denia. The expedition was received with good will by the people, who
hated the ascendency of France at Madrid and were bitterly jealous of
Castile.

As soon as the fleet anchored Peterborough caused a manifesto to be
distributed among the people disclaiming any idea of aggrandizement on
the part of Great Britain or her allies, or any intention of injuring
the persons or property of Spaniards who were the lawful subjects of
King Charles III.

“We come,” said he, “to free you from the insupportable yoke of the
government of foreigners, and from the slavery to which you have been
reduced and sold to France by ill designing persons.”

Several of the Spanish followers of the king landed to encourage the
people, among them General Basset y Ramos, an active officer who was a
Valencian by birth. The people rapidly assembled from the surrounding
country and lined the shore shouting “Long live King Charles III!”

Abundant supplies of provisions were sent off to the fleet, for which,
however, Peterborough insisted upon liberal payment being made.

A detachment of British infantry was landed to cover the operation of
watering the fleet. The insurrection spread rapidly, and a thousand of
the peasants seized the town of Denia for the king. A frigate and two
bomb vessels crossed the bay and threatened the castle. This, although a
magnificent pile of building, was but weakly fortified, and after a few
shots had been fired it surrendered, and General Ramos with four hundred
regular troops from the fleet landed and took possession, and amid
the enthusiasm of the population Charles III was for the first time on
Spanish ground proclaimed King of Spain and of the Indies.

The Earl of Peterborough now proposed a plan of the most brilliant and
daring kind, and had his advice been taken the war would probably have
terminated in a very short time, by securely seating Charles III upon
the Spanish throne. Madrid was distant but fifty leagues from Altea
Bay. Requena was the only town of strength that lay in the way; the rich
country would have afforded ample provision and means of transport,
and these the friendly portion of the people would have placed at the
disposal of the army.

In the whole of Central Spain there was no force which could oppose
him. All the troops of Philip were either on the frontier of Portugal or
occupying the disaffected cities of the north. At Madrid there were but
a few troops of horse; in a week then, and possibly without shedding a
drop of blood, Charles might have been proclaimed king in the capital of
Spain. The plan was, of course, not without danger. Marshal Tesse, with
an overwhelming force, would threaten the left of the advancing army,
and the garrisons of the northern cities, if united, could march with
equal superiority of force upon its right; but Tesse would be followed
by Lord Galway and the allied and Portuguese army, while Barcelona and
the other strongholds of Catalonia would rise if their garrisons were
withdrawn.

Even in the case of failure Peterborough could have retired safely
through Valencia and have re-embarked on board the fleet, or could have
marched to Gibraltar. The scheme was at once daring and judicious,
but the Archduke Charles was slow and timid, and was controlled by the
advice of his even slower and more cautious German advisers, and neither
argument nor entreaty on the part of Peterborough could suffice to move
him. The earl was in despair at so brilliant an opportunity being thrown
away, and expressed himself with the greatest of bitterness in his
letters home as to the impossibility of carrying out movements when
embarrassed by the presence of the king and by the incapacity of the
king's advisers.

However, finding that nothing could be done he re-embarked his troops,
and the fleet sailed for Barcelona. It was not however, thought probable
that a successful attempt could be made upon so strongly fortified
a city, and it was determined that if upon inspection the chances of
success should appear slight, the fleet and army should at once proceed,
as originally intended, to the assistance of the Duke of Savoy.



CHAPTER VII: BARCELONA


The city of Barcelona, one of the most populous and important in Spain,
is not naturally a place of great strength. It is situated on a plain
close to the sea, and its defenses, although extensive, were not very
formidable against a strong army provided with a siege train. To hold
them fully required a much larger force than was disposable for the
defense. The garrison was, however, fully equal in strength to the force
of Peterborough, and should have been able to defend the city against
an army vastly exceeding their own numbers. Ten bastions and some old
towers protected the town toward the north and east; between the city
and the sea was a long rampart with an unfinished ditch and covered
way; while to the west, standing on a lofty elevation, the castle of
Montjuich overlooked and guarded the walls of the city.

From the center of the sea face a mole projected into the water,
guarding a small harbor. The country round the town was fertile and
beautiful, carefully cultivated and watered by streams flowing from the
neighboring mountains. At the distance of about a league from the shore
the land rises into an amphitheater of hills thickly dotted with small
towns, villages, and country seats.

As soon as the allied fleet had anchored the garrison commenced a
cannonade from the mole and from a battery close to the sea upon some
of the transports nearest to the shore; but their shot did not reach the
vessels, and the fire soon ceased. The east wind, however, proved more
troublesome than the enemy's fire, and the ships rolled heavily from the
sea which came in from the east.

The Prince of Hesse Darmstadt with two frigates put into the harbor of
Mataro for the purpose of obtaining intelligence. He found that in the
neighboring town of Vich the people had risen for King Charles, and
putting himself in communication with their leaders he advised them to
march upon the coast and cooperate with the forces about to land. On his
way to rejoin the fleet the prince chased two Neapolitan galleys, which
managed to get safely into Barcelona.

They had on board the Duke and Duchess of Popoli, M. d'Abary, a French
officer of distinction, and forty other young gentlemen, partisans of
the Duke d'Anjou, and destined for employment in different parts of
Spain. They were now, however, detained in the city by the governor to
assist in its defense.

The first glance into the state of affairs gave the Earl of Peterborough
such an unfavorable impression that he at once objected to the proposed
attack.

The governor, Don Francisco Velasco, was a brave and distinguished
officer, the garrison equaled his own force in numbers, the town was
well supplied with provisions and stores, and, in order to add to the
difficulties of the besiegers, orders had been given to destroy all the
forage in the surrounding country which could not be conveyed within
the walls. Any Austrian sympathies the inhabitants might possess were
effectually suppressed by the power and vigilance of the governor.
The besieging army was far too small to attempt a blockade, while the
chances of an assault upon an equal force behind well armed defenses
seemed almost desperate.

The engineers declared that the difficulties of a regular siege were
enormous, if not insurmountable, and that the only vulnerable point
was covered by a bog, where the transport of cannon or the formation
of works would be impossible. Above all, the principal hope of the
expedition had failed. The adherents of Charles had assured him that the
whole country would rise in his favor on the arrival of the fleet, and
that the town itself would probably open its gates to receive him. These
promises had, like all others he had received from his Spanish friends,
proved delusive. Few of the peasantry appeared to receive them on the
coast, and these were unarmed and without officers.

The earl's instructions, although generally quite indefinite, were
stringent upon one point. He was on no account to make the slightest
alteration in the plans of the expedition, or to take any decisive step
for their accomplishment, without the advice of the council of war. This
would have been in any case embarrassing for a general; in the present
instance it was calculated altogether to cripple him. There was but
little harmony among the chief officers. The English military officers
were by no means on good terms with each other, while the naval officers
regarded almost as an insult Lord Peterborough's being placed in command
of them. The English hated the German officers and despised the Dutch.
Lord Peterborough himself disliked almost all his associates, and
entertained a profound contempt for any one whose opinion might differ
from that which he at the moment might happen to hold.

It was impossible that good could come from a council of war composed
of such jarring elements as these. However, Lord Peterborough's
instructions were positive, and on the 16th of August, 1705, he convened
a council of war on board the Britannia, consisting of nine generals and
a brigadier, with two colonels on the staff. The king and the Prince
of Hesse Darmstadt were present, but took no part in the deliberations.
Singularly enough the council proved unanimous in their opinion that
Barcelona should not be attacked. The reasons for the decision were
drawn up and put on record. The council pointed out all the difficulties
which existed, and declared the strength of the allied army to be only
nineteen battalions of foot and two cavalry regiments, of whom no more
than seven thousand men were fit for action, and only one hundred and
twenty dragoon horses had survived the voyage in serviceable condition.

The decision of the council was most opposed to the hopes and wishes of
Charles and the Prince of Hesse Darmstadt, and they addressed letters
of strong remonstrance to Lord Peterborough, urging that to abandon the
expedition at this juncture would be alike fatal to the common cause and
discreditable to the British arms.

Meanwhile, however, the greater part of the troops had landed without
opposition; but the sea broke with such force on the beach that much
difficulty had been experienced in getting ashore. The landing place had
been well chosen by Lord Peterborough and Sir Cloudesley Shovel. It
was about two miles east of the city, near a place called Badalona, and
close to the mouth of the little river Basoz. The transports were
moored in as close as possible, and the boats of the fleet carried three
thousand men ashore each trip.

In five hours fifteen battalions were landed without the loss of a man.
A strong natural position about a mile from the city was chosen for the
encampment; its left rested on the sea, its right was covered by several
abrupt hills and defiles through which the river Basoz flowed. The front
was, however, much extended, but this mattered the less, as the people
from the neighboring villages began to assemble when the landing took
place, and welcomed the allies of King Charles with joy. A number of
these were employed by Lord Peterborough in guarding the advanced posts
and covering the numerous roads leading from the city toward the camp.

On the 22d another council of war was held at the Dutch General
Schratenbach's quarters in the camp to consider two letters of the
king, in which he again urged the allied generals to attack the city.
He proposed that a battery of fifty guns should be erected to breach
the wall between two of the bastions, and that the whole strength of the
army should be thrown upon an assault. He acknowledged the force of the
several objections to the attack, but urged that in such a case vigorous
action was the safest. He dwelt upon the ruin that must fall upon such
of his subjects as had declared for him if abandoned to their fate, and
concluded by declaring that he at least would not desert them.

The appeal failed to move any of the council with the exception of
Peterborough himself, and he alone voted, although in opposition to his
own judgment, in compliance with the king's plan. Notwithstanding the
adverse decision of the council the horses and dragoons were landed on
the 24th.

On the 25th, the 26th, and the 28th the council again assembled to
deliberate upon an earnest request of the king that they should attempt
the siege for a period of eighteen days. The first decision was adverse,
two only voting with Lord Peterborough for the siege. At the second
council, his influence succeeded in obtaining a majority; but at the
third, they agreed to abandon the attempt, even the commander in chief
concurring.

The cause of this sudden reversal of their opinion was that none of the
workmen whom they had demanded from the leaders of the Catalan peasantry
had appeared, and they felt it impossible to carry on the works and
erect the siege batteries without such assistance. Nevertheless
the peasantry gave effectual aid in landing the artillery, tents,
ammunition, and stores. On the 28th the king landed amid a great
concourse of people, who received him with every demonstration of
enthusiasm, and he could with difficulty make his way through them to
the camp prepared for him near San Martino.

The presence of the king on shore added to the difficulties of the
situation. He and his following of German courtiers complained bitterly
of the disinclination of the allies to undertake the siege, while
the allies were incensed against those who reproached them for not
undertaking impossibilities. Dissension spread between the allies
themselves, and the Dutch general declared that he would disobey the
orders of the commander in chief rather than vainly sacrifice his men.

Peterborough was driven nearly out of his mind by the reproaches and
recrimination to which he was exposed, and the quarrels which took place
around him. He was most anxious to carry out his instructions, and as
far as possible to defer to the opinion of Charles, but he was also
bound by the decisions of the councils of war, which were exactly
opposite to the wishes of the king.

The Prince of Hesse Darmstadt enraged him by insisting that fifteen
hundred disorderly peasants whom he had raised were an army, and should
be paid as regular soldiers from the military chest, while they would
submit to no discipline and refused to labor in the trenches, and an
open rupture took place, when the prince, in his vexation at the results
of the councils of war, even went so far as to accuse the earl of having
used secret influence to thwart the enterprise.

To add to the difficulties of the commander in chief the English
troops were loud in their complaints against him for having landed
and committed them to this apparently hopeless enterprise; but they
nevertheless clamored to be led against the town, that they might not be
said to have “come like fools and gone like cowards.”

Lord Peterborough confided his trouble and vexation freely to his young
secretary. Jack was sincerely attached to his generous and eccentric
chief, and the general was gratified by the young officer's readiness at
all times and hours to come to him and write from his dictation the
long letters and dispatches which he sent home. He saw, too, that he
was thoroughly trustworthy, and could be relied upon to keep absolute
silence as to the confidences which he made him.

In the midst of all these quarrels and disputes the siege was carried
on in a languid manner. A battery of fifty heavy guns, supplied by the
ships and manned by seamen, was placed upon a rising ground flanked
by two deep ravines, and on several of the adjacent hills batteries of
light field guns had been raised. Three weeks were consumed in these
comparatively unimportant operations, and no real advance toward the
capture of the place had been effected. Something like a blockade,
however, had been established, for the Catalan peasants guarded
vigilantly every approach to the town.

The officers of the fleet were no less discontented than their brethren
on shore at the feeble conduct of the siege, and had they been consulted
they would have been in favor of a direct attack upon the city with
scaling ladders, as if they had been about to board a hostile ship.
But Peterborough and his officers were well aware that such an attack
against a city defended by a superior force would be simple madness, and
even an attack by regular approaches, with the means and labor at their
disposal, would have had no chance of success. But while all on shore
and in the fleet were chafing at the slowness and hopelessness of the
siege, Jack Stilwell was alone aware that the commander in chief did not
share in the general despair of any good arising from the operations.

Lord Peterborough had little communication with the other generals; but,
alone in his tent with Jack and an interpreter, he occupied himself
from morning till night in examining peasants and spies as to every
particular of the fortifications of the city, of the ground near to the
walls, and of the habits and proceedings of the garrison. At last he
resolved upon an attempt which, in its daring and enterprise, is almost
without parallel. Indeed its only hope of success lay in its boldness,
for neither friend nor foe could anticipate that it would be attempted.
It was no less than the surprise of the citadel of Montjuich.

This formidable stronghold covered the weakest part of the defenses,
that toward the southwest, and far exceeded in strength any other part
of the lines. It had been most skillfully designed. The ditches were
deep, and the walls firm; the outworks skillfully planned; the batteries
well armed, and the inner defenses formidable in themselves. It was,
in fact, by far the strongest point in the position of the besieged.
Standing on a commanding height, it was abundantly capable of defense
even against a regular siege, and its reduction was always regarded as
a most formidable enterprise, to be undertaken at leisure after the
capture of the town. Its only weakness lay in the fact that surrounding
it on every side were numerous ravines and hollows, which would afford
concealment to an assailant, and that trusting to the extraordinary
strength of their position the garrison of Montjuich might neglect
proper precautions.

One morning before daybreak the earl, accompanied only by Jack and a
native guide, left the camp on foot, having laid aside their uniforms
and put on the attire of peasants, so that the glitter of their
accouterments might not attract the attention of the enemy's outposts.
Making a long detour they approached the castle, and ascending one of
the ravines gained a point where, themselves unseen, they could mark all
particulars of the fortifications. Having carried out his purpose the
earl returned to camp with his companion without his absence having been
observed. The observations which Peterborough had made confirmed the
reports of the peasants, that the garrison kept but a negligent watch,
and he at once resolved upon making the attempt; but to none of his most
intimate friends did he give the slightest hint of his intentions.

To disguise his views he called councils of war both in the camp and
fleet, wherein it was resolved, with his full consent, that the siege of
Barcelona should be abandoned, and that the army should be immediately
re-embarked and conveyed to Italy. Accordingly the heavy artillery was
conveyed on board ship, the warlike stores collected, and the troops
warned to be ready for embarkation. A storm of reproaches was poured
upon the earl by Charles and his courtiers. The officers of the fleet
protested openly, declaring that an assault ought to be attempted, and
that it was too late in the season to attempt operations elsewhere.

To Jack's surprise his commander, usually so hasty, irritable, and
passionate, bore with the greatest calmness and patience the reproaches
and accusations to which he was exposed. No one dreamed that behind
these preparations for embarkation any plan of attack was hidden.

On the 13th of September the army received orders to embark on the
morrow, while within the town the garrison and the inhabitants, who
were, or pretended to be, well affected to the Bourbons held high
rejoicing at the approaching departure.

On the afternoon of that day a detachment of English and Dutch troops
twelve hundred strong was ordered to assemble in the allied camp for the
purpose, as was supposed, of covering the embarkation. Scaling ladders
and everything necessary for an assault had already been privately
prepared by the Catalan peasants under Peterborough's instructions.

About six o'clock in the evening four hundred grenadiers of the party
assembled under the command of Hon. Colonel Southwell, and were ordered
to march by the Serria road, as if en route to Taragona to meet the
fleet and embark in that harbor. The remainder of the detachment
followed in support at some little distance. At nightfall the Prince of
Hesse Darmstadt was surprised by Lord Peterborough's entrance into his
quarters. Since their rupture all intercourse had ceased between them.

“I have determined,” the earl said, “to make this night an attack upon
the enemy. You may now, if you please, be a judge of our behavior, and
see whether my officers and soldiers really deserve the bad character
which you of late have so readily imputed to them.” He then explained
that the troops were already on their march to Montjuich.

The prince immediately ordered his horse, and the two gallant but
impulsive and singular men rode off, followed only by Jack Stillwell and
the prince's aide de camp. At ten o'clock they overtook the troops, and
Peterborough ordered a total change of route, he himself leading.

The roads were winding, narrow, and difficult. For a great part of the
way there was only room for the men to march in single file. The night
was very dark, and the detachment many hours on the march, so that
daylight was just breaking when they reached the foot of the hill on
which the fort of Montjuich stood.

The troops under Peterborough's command now perceived the object of
their march, and imagined that they would be led to the attack before
the day had fairly broke; but the general had well considered the
subject, and had determined to avoid the risk and confusion of a night
assault. He called his officers together and explained to them why he
did not mean to attack till broad daylight.

His examination of the place had shown him that the ditches could be
crossed, no palisades or barriers having been erected. He had noticed,
too, that the inner works were not sufficiently high to enable their
guns properly to command the outer works should these be carried by an
enemy. He had therefore determined to carry the outworks by assault,
judging that if he captured them the inner works could not long resist.
In case of a reverse, or to enable him to take advantage of success, he
told them that he had ordered Brigadier General Stanhope to march during
the night with a thousand infantry and the handful of cavalry to a
convent lying halfway between the camp and the city, and there to hold
himself in reserve.

Peterborough now silently and coolly completed his arrangements for the
assault. He divided the body of troops into three parties; the first of
these, two hundred and eighty strong, were to attack the bastion facing
the town, which was the strongest part of the defense. He himself and
the Prince of Hesse accompanied this party. A lieutenant and thirty men
formed the advance, a captain and fifty more were the support, and the
remaining two hundred men were to form in the rear.

The orders were that they should push forward in spite of the enemy's
fire, leap into the ditch, drive the garrison before them, and if
possible enter the works with them; but, if not, to obtain at least
a firm footing on the outer defenses. The second party, similar in
strength and formation, under the command of the Hon. Colonel Southwell,
were to attack an unfinished demibastion on the extreme western point
of the fort and furthermost from the town. The remainder of the little
force, under a Dutch colonel, were to be held in reserve, and to assist
wherever they might be most useful. They occupied a position somewhat
in rear of and halfway between the two part

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