CHAPTER TWO.
A FOGGY NIGHT IN THE CHANNEL.
The town clock was striking four when, the muster roll having beencalled and all hands being found to be on board, we cast off the shore-fasts and, under the influence of a light, keen, frosty air from thenorthward, went gliding down the harbour under mainsail and flying-jib,fully two hundred people following us along the quay and cheering us aswe went. The _Dolphin_ was the first privateer that Weymouth had fittedout since the last declaration of war, and the enthusiasm was intense;for, in addition to the foregoing circumstance, she was the largest,most powerful, and most heavily-manned privateer that had ever sailedout of the port; our full complement numbering no less than ninety, alltold, including a surgeon, every one of whom was either a Weymouth or aPortland man; consequently there were plenty of friends and relatives tosee us start and bid us God-speed.
Upon clearing the harbour all sail was at once made upon the schooner,our object being, of course, to reach the open channel as quickly aspossible--when we might hope to fall athwart a prize at any moment,--anda noble picture we must have made as, edging away to pass out roundPortland, our noble spaces of new, white canvas were expanded one afterthe other, until we were under all plain sail, to our royal.
The day had been one of those quiet grey days that occasionally occurabout the latter end of November; the sky a pallid, shapeless canopy ofcolourless cloud through which the sun at long intervals became faintlydistinguishable for a few minutes at a time, then vanished again. Therewas little or no wind to speak of, the faint breathing that prevailedbeing from the northward. The air was very keen, the atmosphere sothick that our horizon was contracted to a limit of scarcely threemiles, and it looked very much as though, with nightfall, we should havea fog. The moon was a long time past the full, and the small crescentto which she had been reduced would not rise until very late; there wasa prospect, therefore, that the coming night would be both dark andthick; just the kind of night, in fact, when we might hope to blunder upagainst a ship belonging to the enemy, and take her by surprise.
Captain Winter's plan was to run across to the French coast, makeCherbourg, and then cruise to the westward, in the hope that, by sodoing, we should either pick up a French homeward-bound merchantman, orsucceed in recapturing one of the prizes that the French privateersoccasionally captured in the Channel and generally sent into Cherbourgor Saint Malo. Should we fail in this, his next project was to cruisein the chops of the Channel for a fortnight, and then return to Weymouthto replenish our stores and water; it being hoped that by that timesomething definite would be known as to the prospects of war with Spain.
Our course took us close past the easternmost extremity of Portland--thehighest point of the miscalled "island"; and by the time that we haddrifted across the bay--for our progress could scarcely be called morethan drifting--the fog had settled down so thickly that, had we not bygood fortune happened to have heard two men calling to each otherashore, we should have plumped the schooner on to the rocks at the baseof the cliff before seeing the land. Even as it was, it was touch andgo with us; for although the helm was put hard a-starboard at the firstsound of the mens' voices, we were so close in that, as the schoonerswerved heavily round, we just grazed a great rock, the head of whichwas sticking out of the water. But we now knew pretty well where wewere, and hauling well off the land, out of further danger, we shaped acourse that would take us well clear of the Shambles, and so stretchedaway athwart the Channel.
By the time that we had hauled off the land about a mile it had fallenas dark as a wolf's mouth, with a fog so thick that, what with it andthe darkness together, it was impossible to see as far as the foremastfrom the main rigging, while the wind had fallen so light that ourcanvas flapped and rustled with every heave of the schooner upon theshort Channel swell; yet, by heaving the log, we found that the_Dolphin_ was slinking through the water at the rate of close upon threeknots in the hour, while she was perfectly obedient to her helm. Themost profound silence prevailed fore and aft; for Captain Winter hadgiven instructions that the bells were not to be struck, and that allorders were to be passed quietly along the deck by word of mouth. Thebinnacle light was also carefully masked, and the skylight obscured by aclose-fitting painted canvas cover that had been made for the expresspurpose. There was, therefore, nothing whatever to betray our presenceexcept the soft rustling of our canvas, and, as the same sounds wouldprevail on board any other craft that might happen to drift within ourvicinity, we were in hopes that, by keeping our ears wide open, we mightbecome aware of their presence before our own was betrayed. It is truethat these precautions greatly increased the risk of collision withother vessels; but we trusted that the watchfulness upon which wedepended for the discovery of other craft in our neighbourhood wouldsuffice to avert any such danger.
In this way the time slowly dragged along until midnight, when I wascalled to take charge of the deck. Upon turning out I found that therewas no improvement in the weather, except that the faint breathing fromthe northward had strengthened sufficiently to put our canvas to sleep,and to increase our speed to a trifle over six knots; but it was just asdark and thick as ever. Lovell, whom I was relieving, informed me thatnothing whatever had been seen or heard during his watch; and that now,by our dead reckoning, we were, as nearly as possible, thirty milessouth-by-west of Portland Bill. The skipper was still on deck; he hadbeen up all through the first watch, and announced his intention ofkeeping the deck until the weather should clear. The night was nowbitterly cold and frosty; the rail, the ropes coiled upon the pins, thecompanion slide, even the glass of the binnacle, all were thickly coatedwith rime, and the decks were slippery with it.
It was close upon two bells; and everything on board the _Dolphin_ wassilent as the grave, no sound being audible save the soft seething ofthe water past the bends, and the "gush" of the wave created by theplunge of the schooner's sharp bows into the hollows of the swell, whenthe skipper, who was standing near me on the starboard side of thebinnacle, sucking away at a short pipe, caught hold of my arm and saidin a low tone:
"Listen, Bowen! you have sharp ears. Tell me if you hear anythinghereaway on the starboard bow?"
I listened intently for some seconds without hearing anything, and wasabout to say so, when I thought I caught a faint sound, as of thecreaking of a boom; and at the same instant the two look-out men on theforecastle, forgetting, in the imminence of the danger, theirinstructions to be silent, simultaneously shouted, in sharp incisivetones:
"Hard a-port! Hard over! there's a big ship right under our bow!"
There was nothing whatever to be seen from where the skipper and Istood, but the cry was too imperative to be neglected; I thereforesprang with one bound to the wheel and assisted the helmsman to put ithard over, while the skipper rushed forward to see for himself what itwas that was reported to be in our way.
I had but grasped the spokes of the wheel when I heard a cry, closeahead of us of:
"There's a small craft close aboard of us on our larboard beam, sir!"followed by a confused rush of feet along a ship's deck, and an order to"put the helm hard a-starboard, and call the captain!"
These sounds appeared to be so close aboard of us that I involuntarilybraced myself against the expected impact of the two vessels; but thenext moment, through the dense fog, I saw the faint glimmer of a lightopening out clear of our foremast, saw a huge, dark, shapeless blot godrifting away on to our port bow, and heard a sharp hail from thestranger.
"Schooner ahoy! What schooner is that?"
"The _Dolphin_, privateer, of Weymouth. What ship is that?" answeredthe skipper.
"The _Hoogly_, East Indiaman; Calcutta to London. Can you tell mewhereabouts we are?"
"Thirty-six miles south-by-west of Portland Bill," answered the skipper.
"Much obliged to you, sir," came the faint acknowledgment from theIndiaman, already out of sight again in the fog. This was followed bysome further communication--apparently a question, from the ton
e ofvoice,--but the two vessels had by this time drawn so far apart fromeach other that the words were unintelligible, and the captain made noendeavour to reply; coming aft again and resuming his former positionnear the binnacle.
He and I were still discussing in low tones our narrow escape from adisastrous collision, some ten minutes having elapsed since we had lostsight of the _Hoogly_, when suddenly a faint crash was heard, somewhereaway on our port quarter, immediately followed by shouts and cries, anda confused popping of pistols, which lasted about a minute; when allbecame as suddenly silent again.
"Hillo!" ejaculated the skipper, turning hastily to the binnacle, as thefirst sounds were heard, and taking the bearing of them, as nearly aspossible; "there's something wrong with the Indiaman; it sounds verymuch as though one of the rascally, prowling, French lugger privateershad run him aboard and--"
"D'ye hear that rumpus away out on the larboard quarter, sir?" hailedone of the men on the forecastle.
"Ay, ay, my lad, we hear it; we're not asleep at this end of the ship!"answered Winter. "Depend upon it, George," he continued to me, "the_Hoogly_ has been boarded and carried by a Frenchman. There!" as thesounds ceased, "it is all over, whatever it is. We will haul up a bit,and see if we can discover what has happened. Starboard, my man!" tothe man at the wheel; "starboard, and let her come up to full and by.Hands to the sheets and braces, Mr Bowen. Brace sharp up on thelarboard tack; and then let the men cast loose the guns and load them.Call all hands quietly, and let them go to quarters."
The skipper peered into the binnacle again.
"Nor'-east, half east!" he continued, referring to the direction inwhich the schooner was now heading: "If we are in luck we ought to comeathwart the Indiaman again in about twenty minutes--that is to say, ifthey have hove her to in order to transfer the prisoners."
He pulled out his watch, noted the time, and replaced the watch in hispocket. "Just slip for'ard, Mr Bowen, and caution the hands to be asquiet as possible over their work," said he. "And give the look-out mena hint to keep their eyes skinned. The French have undoubtedly takenthe Indiaman by surprise; now we must see if we cannot give theFrenchmen a surprise in turn."
I went forward to execute my orders; and upon my return found theskipper, watch in hand, talking to the chief mate, who, with the rest ofthe watch below, had been called. Meanwhile the crew were at quarters,and, having cast loose the guns, were busily loading them, the workbeing carried on as quietly as possible. As I rejoined the skipper, thearms-chest was brought on deck; and in a few minutes each man was armedwith a cutlass and a brace of pistols.
By the time that these preparations were completed, the twenty minutesallowed us by Captain Winter to reach the scene of the recentdisturbance had elapsed, and our topsail was laid to the mast, the wordbeing passed along the deck for absolute silence to be maintained, andfor each man to listen with all his ears, and to come aft and report ifhe heard any sound. Then we all fell to listening with bated breath;but not a sound was to be heard save the gurgle and wash of the waterabout the rudder as the schooner rose and fell gently to the lift of thesea.
In this way a full quarter of an hour was allowed to elapse, at theexpiration of which the skipper remarked:
"Well, it is clear that, wherever the Indiaman may be, she is nothereabout. If, as I believe, she has been attacked, and has beaten theFrenchman off, she has of course proceeded on up channel; but if she hasbeen taken, her captors have evidently headed at once for some Frenchport, possibly having been near enough to have heard the hails thatpassed between us. If that was the case they would naturally be anxiousto get away from the neighbourhood of their exploit as quickly aspossible, for fear of being interfered with. And, assuming thissupposition of mine to be correct, they will be certain to make for thenearest French port; which, in this case, is Cherbourg. We willtherefore resume our course toward Cherbourg, when, if we are lucky, wemay get a sight of both the Indiaman and the privateer at daybreak, ifthis confounded fog will only lift."
We accordingly squared away once more upon our former course, which wefollowed until morning without hearing or seeing anything of the vesselsfor which we were looking.
This being our first night out, and my watch being the starboard watch,I was relieved by Lovell at four o'clock a.m., and under ordinarycircumstances should not have been called until seven bells, or half-past seven. But I was not greatly surprised when, on being called, Ifound that it was still dark, the time being five bells. It was Lovellwho called me.
"George!" he exclaimed, shaking me by the shoulder. "George! rouse andbitt, my lad; tumble out! The fog is clearing away, and the cap'nexpects to make out the Indiaman at any moment, so it's `all hands'.Hurry up, my hearty!"
"Ay, ay," grumbled I, only half awake; "I'll be up in a brace ofshakes."
And as Lovell quitted my cabin and returned to the deck, I rolled out ofmy bunk and hurriedly began to dress by the lamp that the chief mate hadbeen considerate enough to light for my convenience.
When I went on deck I found that, as Lovell had stated, the fog wasclearing away, a few stars showing out here and there overhead; moreoverthe wind had hauled round from the eastward and was now blowing a freshtopgallant breeze that had already raised a short choppy sea, over whichthe _Dolphin_ was plunging as lightly and buoyantly as a sea-gull, doingher seven knots easily, although the skipper had taken all the squarecanvas off her, letting her go along under mainsail, foresail, staysail,and jibs. There was nothing to be seen, as the fog still lay thick onthe water; but there were indications that it would probably lift beforelong, and Captain Winter had therefore ordered all hands to be called,so that we might be ready for any emergency that might arise.
"Sorry to have been obliged to disturb you, George, before your time,"said the skipper, as I appeared on deck; "but the fog shows signs ofclearing, and I want to be ready to act decisively the moment that wecatch sight of the Indiaman."
"Quite so, sir," I replied. "Where do you expect to make her?"
"Ah!" he answered; "that's just the question that has been puzzling me.We did not see enough of her last night to enable us to judge veryaccurately what her rate of sailing may be; but I rather fancy, from theglimpse we caught of her, that she is something of a slow ship, and, ifso, we may have run past her. At the same time, if the French have gothold of her--of which I have very little doubt--they would be prettycertain to crowd sail upon her in order to get well over toward theirown coast before daylight. I have shortened sail, as you see, so as toreduce our own speed as nearly as possible to what I judge hers will be;but this schooner is a perfect flyer--there's no holding her,--and itwould not surprise me a bit to find that we have shot ahead of thechase. I feel more than half inclined to heave-to for a short time; butLovell thinks that the Indiaman is still ahead of us somewhere."
"Well," said I, "we ought to see something of her before long, for it isclearing fast overhead, and it appears to me that, even down here on thewater, I can see further than I could when I first came on deck."
It was evident that the skipper was very fidgety, so I thought I wouldnot further unsettle him by obtruding my own opinion--which coincidedwith his--upon him; therefore, finding him slightly disposed to betaciturn, I left him, and made the round of the deck, assuring myselfthat all hands were on the alert, and ready to go to quarters at anymoment. I passed forward along the starboard side of the deck, noticingas I did so that there was a faint lightening in the fog away towindward, showing that the dawn was approaching; and as I turned on theforecastle to go aft again, I observed that the fog was thinning awayfamously on the weather quarter. As I walked aft I kept my eyesintently fixed on this thin patch, which appeared to be a small butwidening break in the curtain of vapour that enveloped us, for it wasevidently drifting along with the wind. I had reached as far aft as themain rigging, still staring into the break, when I suddenly halted, forit struck me that there was a small, faint blotch of darker texture inthe heart of it, away about three points on our we
ather quarter. BeforeI could be quite certain about the matter, however, the blotch, if suchit was, had become merged and lost again in the thicker body of fog thatfollowed in the track of the opening. But while I was still debatingwithin myself whether I should say anything about what I fancied I hadseen, I became aware of a much larger and darker blot slowly looming upthrough the leeward portion of the break, and apparently drifting acrossit to windward, though this effect was, I knew, due to the leeward driftof the break. This time I felt that there was no mistake about it, andI accordingly cried:
"Sail ho! a large ship about a point on our weather quarter!"
And I hurried aft to point it out to the skipper before it should vanishagain. He looked in the direction toward which I was pointing, but wasunable to see anything, his eyes being dazzled in consequence of hishaving been staring, in a fit of abstraction, at the illuminatedcompass-card in the binnacle. Neither could Lovell see anything; andwhile I was still endeavouring to direct their gaze to it, itdisappeared.
"Are you quite certain that your eyes were not deceiving you, MrBowen?" demanded the skipper rather pettishly.
"Absolutely certain, sir," I replied. "And what is more, I believe itto be the Indiaman; for just before sighting her I fancied I saw anotherand smaller craft about two points further to windward, and astern ofthe bigger ship; and I am now of opinion that what I saw was a lugger."
"Ay," retorted the skipper; "you fancied you saw a lugger; and so,perhaps, under the circumstances, would naturally fancy also that yousaw the Indiaman. Did anybody else see anything like a sail astern ofus?" he demanded in a low voice, addressing the crew.
"Yes, sir," answered a voice from the forecastle. "I looked directlythat I heard Mr Bowen sing out, and I fancied that I saw somethingloomin' up dark through the fog on the weather quarter."
"Another fancy!" ejaculated the skipper. "However," he continued, "youmay be right, Mr Bowen, after all. How far do you suppose the strangerto have been away from us?"
"Probably a matter of three miles or thereabout," I answered. "Thesmaller craft would perhaps be a mile, or a mile and a half astern ofher."
"Then," said the skipper, "we will haul the fore-sheet to windward, letour jib-sheets flow, and wait a quarter of an hour to see what comes ofit. If you are correct in your surmise, Mr Bowen, we ought to seesomething of these strangers of yours by that time."
"And I have no doubt we shall, sir," answered I. "And if I may beallowed to offer a suggestion, it is that we should bring the schoonerto the wind, so that she may eat out to windward of the Indiaman, allready for bearing up and running her aboard when she heaves in sight."
"A very good idea, Mr Bowen! we will do so," answered the skipper.
The main- and fore-sheets were accordingly flattened in, when theschooner luffed up to about south-east, and slowly forged to windward,athwart what I believed to be the track of the Indiaman.
Meanwhile, the dawn was coming slowly, while the fog was graduallythinning away under the influence of the freshening breeze, so that wewere by this time able to distinguish the heads of the breaking waves ata distance of fully half a mile. As for me, I kept my eyes intentlyfixed upon the grey cloud of vapour that went drifting away to leewardpast our weather quarter; and presently, when we had been hove-to aboutten minutes, I caught sight of a thickening in the fog thereaway that,even as I looked, began to grow darker and assume a definite shape.
"There she is, sir!" I exclaimed, pointing out the darkening blot tothe skipper; and by the time that he had found it, that same blot hadstrengthened into the misty outline of a large ship under studding-sails, running before the wind, and steering a course that would bringher diagonally athwart our stern, and within biscuit-toss of our leequarter.
"Ay! there she is, sure enough!" responded the skipper eagerly. "Now,"he continued, "the next thing is to find out whether she is the Indiamanor not, without arousing the suspicions of those aboard her. Haul aftyour lee-jib and fore-sheets, there, my lads; we must not present theappearance of lying in wait for her. Luff all you can without shaking,"to the man at the wheel; "I do not want the schooner to move fastthrough the water. We must let yonder ship pass near enough to us, ifpossible, to be able to read the name on her stern."
"I do not think there is much doubt about her being the Indiaman, sir,"said I; "for if you will look out here, broad on our weather quarter,you will see what I take to be the lugger that has captured her."
"Ay, true enough, I do see something! You have sharp eyes, George, andno mistake," answered the skipper. "Yes, there certainly is somethingthere; and, as you say, it looks uncommonly like a lugger! Well, she isa good two miles off. We shall have time to run the big fellow aboardand take her before that lugger is near enough to trouble us. Stand by,there, some of you, to jump aloft and loose the topsail when I give theword. Hillo, what is that? A gun from the lugger, by the hookey! Theyhave made us out, and don't like the look of us, apparently, so theyhave fired a gun to wake up the people aboard the prize. Ha! now theyhave seen us aboard the big ship too, and are taking in their stunsails,to haul to the wind, I suppose. But you are too late, my hearties!"apostrophising the ship, now less than a cable's length from us; "youwill be to leeward of us in another two minutes. Boy, bring me myglass. You will find it slung in beckets in the companion."
On came the ship, near enough now for us to see that she was undoubtedlyan Indiaman, and as undoubtedly British. The people on board her wereevidently in a great flusteration, for they had started to take in allthe studding-sails at once, and a pretty mess they were making of thejob, most of the studding-sails having blown forward over the fore sideof the booms. While they were still battling with the unruly canvas theship swept, yawing wildly, close past our lee quarter; so close, indeed,that no glasses were required, for even in the faint light of thegrowing dawn it was possible to read with the unaided eye the giltlettering on her stern--"_Hoogly, London_."
The Log of a Privateersman Page 2
