CHAPTER LII. HOW THE GARDENER'S SON FOUGHT THE "SERAPIS"
When I came on deck the next morning our yards were a-drip with a clammyfog, and under it the sea was roughed by a southwest breeze. We werestanding to the northward before it. I remember reflecting as I pausedin the gangway that the day was Thursday, September the 23d, and that wewere near two months out of Groix with this tub of an Indiaman. Inall that time we had not so much as got a whiff of an English frigate,though we had almost put a belt around the British Isles. Then strainingmy eyes through the mist, I made out two white blurs of sails on ourstarboard beam.
Honest Jack Pearce, one of the few good seamen we had aboard, wasrubbing down one of the nines beside me.
"Why, Jack," said I, "what have we there? Another prize?" For thatquestion had become a joke on board the 'Bon homme Richard' since theprisoners had reached an hundred and fifty, and half our crew was goneto man the ships.
"Bless your 'art, no, sir," said he. "'Tis that damned Frenchy Landaisin th' Alliance. She turns up with the Pallas at six bells o' the middlewatch."
"So he's back, is he?"
"Ay, he's back," he returned, with a grunt that was half a growl; "arterthree weeks breakin' o' liberty. I tell 'ee what, sir, them Frenchies istreecherous devils, an' not to be trusted the len'th of a lead line. An'they beant seamen eno' to keep a full an' by with all their 'takteek'.Ez fer that Landais, I hearn him whinin' at the commodore in the roundhouse when we was off Clear, an' sayin' as how he would tell Sartin onus when he gets back to Paree. An' jabberin to th'other Frenchmen aswas there that this here butter-cask was er King's ship, an' that thecommodore weren't no commodore nohow. They say as how Cap'n Jones bebound up in a hard knot by some articles of agreement, an' daresn'tpunish him. Be that so, Mr. Carvel?"
I said that it was.
"Shiver my bulkheads!" cried Jack, "I gave my oath to that same, sir.For I knowed the commodore was the lad t' string 'em to the yard-arman' he had the say on it. Oh, the devil take the Frenchies," said Jack,rolling his quid to show his pleasure of the topic, "they sits on theirbottoms in Brest and L'Oriong an' talks takteek wi' their han's andmouths, and daresn't as much as show the noses o' their three-deckers inth' Bay o' Biscay, while Cap'n Jones pokes his bowsprit into everyport in England with a hulk the rats have left. I've had my bellyful o'Frenchies, Mr. Carvell save it be to fight 'em. An' I tell 'ee 'twouldgive me the greatest joy in life t' leave loose 'Scolding Sairy' at thatthere Landais. Th' gal ain't had a match on her this here cruise, an' t'my mind she couldn't be christened better, sir."
I left him patting the gun with a tender affection.
The scene on board was quiet and peaceful enough that morning. A knotof midshipmen on the forecastle were discussing Landais's conduct, andcursing the concordat which prevented our commodore from bringing himup short. Mr. Stacey, the sailing-master, had the deck, and the coastingpilot was conning; now and anon the boatswain's whistle piped forGarrett or Quito or Fogg to lay aft to the mast, where the firstlieutenant stood talking to Colonel de Chamillard, of the Frenchmarines. The scavengers were sweeping down, and part of the after guardwas bending a new bolt-rope on a storm staysail.
Then the--fore-topmast crosstrees reports a sail on the weather quarter,the Richard is brought around on the wind, and away we go aftera brigantine, "flying like a snow laden with English bricks," asMidshipman Coram jokingly remarks. A chase is not such a novelty with usthat we crane our necks to windward.
At noon, when I relieved Mr. Stacey of the deck, the sun had eaten upthe fog, and the shores of England stood out boldly. Spurn Head waslooming up across our bows, while that of Flamborough jutted into thesea behind us. I had the starboard watch piped to dinner, and reportedtwelve o'clock to the commodore. And had just got permission to "makeit," according to a time-honoured custom at sea, when another "Sail,ho!" came down from aloft.
"Where away?" called back Mr. Linthwaite, who was midshipman of theforecastle.
"Starboard quarter, rounding Flamborough Head, sir. Looks like afull-rigged ship, sir."
I sent the messenger into the great cabin to report. He was barelyout of sight before a second cry came from the masthead: "Another sailrounding Flamborough, sir!"
The officers on deck hurried to the taffrail. I had my glass, but nota dot was visible above the sea-line. The messenger was scarcely backagain when there came a third hail: "Two more rounding the head, sir!Four in all, sir!"
Here was excitement indeed. Without waiting for instructions, I gave thecommand:
"Up royal yards! Royal yardmen in the tops!"
We were already swaying out of the chains, when Lieutenant Dale appearedand asked the coasting pilot what fleet it was. He answered that it wasthe Baltic fleet, under convoy of the Countess of Scarborough, twentyguns, and the Serapis, forty-four.
"Forty-four," repeated Mr. Dale, smiling; "that means fifty, as Englishfrigates are rated. We shall have our hands full this day, my lads,"said he. "You have done well to get the royals on her, Mr. Carvel."
While he was yet speaking, three more sail were reported from aloft.Then there was a hush on deck, and the commodore himself appeared. As hereached the poop we saluted him and informed him of what had happened.
"The Baltic fleet," said he, promptly. "Call away the pilotboat with Mr.Lunt to follow the brigantine, sir, and ease off before the wind. Signal'General Chase' to the squadron, Mr. Mayrant."
The men had jumped to the weather braces before I gave the command, andall the while more sail were counting from the crosstrees, untiltheir number had reached forty-one. The news spread over the ship; thestarboard watch trooped up with their dinners half eaten. Then a faintbooming of guns drifted down upon our ears.
"They've got sight of us, sir," shouted the lookout. "They be firingguns to windward, an' letting fly their topgallant sheets."
At that the commodore hurried forward, the men falling back to thebulwarks respectfully, and he mounted the fore-rigging as agile as anytopman, followed by his aide with a glass. From the masthead he sung outto me to set our stu'nsails, and he remained aloft till near seven bellsof the watch. At that hour the merchantmen had all scuttled to safetybehind the head, and from the deck a great yellow King's frigate couldbe plainly seen standing south to meet us, followed by her smallerconsort. Presently she hove to, and through our glasses we discerneda small boat making for her side, and then a man clambering up hersea-ladder.
"That be the bailiff of Scarborough, sir," said the coasting pilot,"come to tell her cap'n 'tis Paul Jones he has to fight."
At that moment the commodore lay down from aloft, and our hearts beathigh as he walked swiftly aft to the quarterdeck, where he paused fora word with Mr. Dale. Meanwhile Mr. Mayrant hove out the signal for thesquadron to form line of battle.
"Recall the pilot-boat, Mr. Carvel," said the commodore, quietly. "Thenyou may beat to quarters, and I will take the ship, sir."
"Ay, ay, sir." I raised my trumpet. "All hands clear ship for action!"
It makes me sigh now to think of the cheer which burst from thattatterdemalion crew. Who were they to fight the bone and sinew of theKing's navy in a rotten ship of an age gone by? And who was he, thatstood so straight upon the quarter-deck, to instil this scum with loveand worship and fervour to blind them to such odds? But the bo'sunspiped and sang out the command in fog-horn voices, the drums beat thelong roll and the fifes whistled, and the decks became suddenly alive.Breechings were loosed and gun-tackles unlashed, rammer and sponge laidout, and pike and pistol and cutlass placed where they would be handywhen the time came to rush the enemy's decks. The powder-monkeys tumbledover each other in their hurry to provide cartridges, and grape andcanister and doubleheaded shot were hoisted up from below. The trimmersrigged the splinter nettings, got out spare spars and blocks and ropesagainst those that were sure to be shot away, and rolled up casks ofwater to put out the fires. Tubs were filled with sand, for blood isslippery upon the boards. The French marines, their scarlet and whitevery natty in contrast to
most of our ragged wharf-rats at the guns,were mustered on poop and forecastle, and some were sent aloft tothe tops to assist the tars there to sweep the British decks withhandgrenade and musket. And, lastly, the surgeon and his mates wentbelow to cockpit and steerage, to make ready for the grimmest work ofall.
My own duties took me to the dark lower deck, a vile place indeed, andreeking with the smell of tar and stale victuals. There I had charge ofthe battery of old eighteens, while Mr. Dale commanded the twelves onthe middle deck. We loaded our guns with two shots apiece, though I hadmy doubts about their standing such a charge, and then the men strippeduntil they stood naked to the waist, waiting for the fight to begin.For we could see nothing of what was going forward. I was pacing up anddown, for it was a task to quiet the nerves in that dingy place withthe gun-ports closed, when about three bells of the dog, Mr. Mease, thepurser, appeared on the ladder.
"Lunt has not come back with the pilot-boat, Carvel," said he. "I havevolunteered for a battery, and am assigned to this. You are to report tothe commodore."
I thanked him, and climbed quickly to the quarterdeck. The 'Bon hommeRichard' was lumbering like a leaden ship before the wind, swayingponderously, her topsails flapping and her heavy blocks whacking againstthe yards. And there was the commodore, erect, and with fire in his eye,giving sharp commands to the men at the wheel. I knew at once that notrifle had disturbed him. He wore a brand-new uniform; a blue coat withred lapels and yellow buttons, and slashed cuffs and stand-up collar, ared waistcoat with tawny lace, blue breeches, white silk stockings, anda cocked hat and a sword. Into his belt were stuck two brace of pistols.
It took some effort to realize, as I waited silently for his attention,that this was the man of whose innermost life I had had so intimatea view. Who had taken me to the humble cottage under Criffel, who hadpoured into my ear his ambitions and his wrongs when we had sat togetherin the dingy room of the Castle Yard sponging-house. Then some of thoseludicrous scenes on the road to London came up to me, for which thesky-blue frock was responsible. And yet this commodore was not greatlyremoved from him I had first beheld on the brigantine John. Hisconfidence in his future had not so much as wavered since that day. Thatfuture was now not so far distant as the horizon, and he was ready tomeet it.
"You will take charge of the battery of nines on this deck, Mr. Carvel,"said he, at length.
"Very good, sir," I replied, and was making my way down the poop ladder,when I heard him calling me, in a low voice, by the old name: "Richard!"
I turned and followed him aft to the taffrail, where we were clear ofthe French soldiers. The sun was hanging red over the Yorkshire Wolds,the Head of Flamborough was in the blue shadow, and the clouds were likerose leaves in the sky. The enemy had tacked and was standing west, withensign and jack and pennant flying, the level light washing his sailsto the whiteness of paper. 'Twas then I first remarked that the Alliancehad left her place in line and was sailing swiftly ahead toward theSerapis. The commodore seemed to read my exclamation.
"Landais means to ruin me yet, by hook or crook," said he.
"But he can't intend to close with them," I replied. "He has not thecourage."
"God knows what he intends," said the commodore, bitterly. "It is nogood, at all events."
My heart bled for him. Some minutes passed that he did not speak, makingshift to raise his glass now and again, and I knew that he was grippedby a strong emotion. "'Twas so he ever behaved when the stress wasgreatest. Presently he lays down the glass on the signal-chest, fumblesin his coat, and brings out the little gold brooch I had not set eyes onsince Dolly and he and I had stood together on the Betsy's deck.
"When you see her, Richard, tell her that I have kept it as sacred asher memory," he said thickly. "She will recall what I spoke of you whenshe gave it me. You have been leal and true to me indeed, and many ablack hour have you tided me over since this war' began. Do you know howshe may be directed to?" he concluded, with abruptness.
I glanced at him, surprised at the question. He was staring at theEnglish shore.
"Mr. Ripley, of Lincoln's Inn, used to be Mr. Manners's lawyer," Ianswered.
He took out a little note-book and wrote that down carefully. "And now,"he continued, "God keep you, my friend. We must win, for we fight with arope around our necks."
"But you, Captain Paul," I said, "is--is there no one?"
His face took on the look of melancholy it had worn so often of late,despite his triumphs. That look was the stamp of fate.
"Richard," replied he, with an ineffable sadness, "I am naught but awanderer upon the face of the earth. I have no ties, no kindred,--noreal friends, save you and Dale, and some of these honest fellows whom Ilead to slaughter. My ambition is seamed with a flaw. And all my lifeI must be striving, striving, until I am laid in the grave. I know thatnow, and it is you yourself who have taught me. For I have violentlybroken forth from those bounds which God in His wisdom did set."
I pressed his hand, and with bowed head went back to my station,profoundly struck by the truth of what he had spoken. Though he foughtunder the flag of freedom, the curse of the expatriated was upon hishead.
Shortly afterward he appeared at the poop rail, straight and alert, hiseye piercing each man as it fell on him. He was the commodore once more.
The twilight deepened, until you scarce could see your hands. There wasno sound save the cracking of the cabins and the tumbling of the blocks,and from time to time a muttered command. An age went by before thetrimmers were sent to the lee braces, and the Richard rounded lazily to.And a great frigate loomed out of the night beside us, half a pistolshotaway.
"What ship is that?" came the hail, intense out of the silence.
"I don't hear you," replied our commodore, for he had not yet got hisdistance.
Again came the hail: "What ship is that?"
John Paul Jones leaned forward over the rail.
"Pass the word below to the first lieutenant to begin the action, sir."
Hardly were the words out of my mouth before the deck gave a mightyleap, a hot wind that seemed half of flame blew across my face, andthe roar started the pain throbbing in my ears. At the same instant thescreech of shot sounded overhead, we heard the sharp crack-crack ofwood rending and splitting,--as with a great broadaxe,--and a medleyof blocks and ropes rattled to the deck with the 'thud of the fallingbodies. Then, instead of stillness, moans and shrieks from above andbelow, oaths and prayers in English and French and Portuguese, and inthe heathen gibberish of the East. As the men were sponging and ramminghome in the first fury of hatred, the carpenter jumped out under thebattle-lanthorn at the main hatch, crying in a wild voice that the oldeighteens had burst, killing half their crews and blowing up the gundeckabove them. At this many of our men broke and ran for the hatches.
"Back, back to your quarters! The first man to desert will be shotdown!"
It was the same strange voice that had quelled the mutiny on the John,that had awed the men of Kirkcudbright. The tackles were seized andthe guns run out once more, and fired, and served again in an agony ofhaste. In the darkness shot shrieked hither and thither about us likedemons, striking everywhere, sometimes sending casks of salt water overthe nettings. Incessantly the quartermaster walked to and fro scatteringsand over the black pools that kept running, running together as theminutes were tolled out, and the red flashes from the guns revealedfaces in a hideous contortion. One little fellow, with whom I had hadmany a lively word at mess, had his arm taken off at the shoulder as hewent skipping past me with the charge under his coat, and I have but tolisten now to hear the patter of the blood on the boards as they carriedhim away to the cockpit below. Out of the main hatch, from that charnelhouse, rose one continuous cry. It was an odd trick of the mind or soulthat put a hymn on my lips in that dreadful hour of carnage and humanmisery, when men were calling the name of their Maker in vain. But asI ran from crew to crew, I sang over and over again a long-forgottenChristmas carol, and with it came a fleeting memory of my mother on
thestairs at Carvel Hall, and of the negroes gathered on the lawn without.
Suddenly, glancing up at the dim cloud of sails above, I saw that wewere aback and making sternway. We might have tossed a biscuit aboardthe big Serapis as she glided ahead of us. The broadsides thundered, andgreat ragged scantlings brake from our bulwarks and flew as high as themizzen-top; and the shrieks and groans redoubled. Involuntarily myeyes sought the poop, and I gave a sigh of relief at the sight of thecommanding figure in the midst of the whirling smoke. We shotted ourguns with double-headed, manned our lee braces, and gathered headway.
"Stand by to board!"
The boatswains' whistles trilled through the ship, pikes were seized,and pistol and cutlass buckled on. But even as we waited with setteeth, our bows ground into the enemy's weather quarter-gallery. For theRichard's rigging was much cut away, and she was crank at best. Sowe backed and filled once more, passing the Englishman close aboard,himself being aback at the time. Several of his shot crushed through thebulwarks in front of me, shattering a nine-pounder and killing half ofits crew. And it is only a miracle that I stand alive to be able totell the tale. Then I caught a glimpse of the quartermaster whirlingthe spokes of our wheel, and over went our helm to lay us athwart theforefoot of the 'Serapis', where we might rake and rush her decks.Our old Indiaman answered but doggedly; and the huge bowsprit of theSerapis, towering over our heads, snapped off our spanker gaff andfouled our mizzen rigging.
"A hawser, Mr. Stacey, a hawser!" I heard the commodore shout, and sawthe sailing-master slide down the ladder and grope among the dead andwounded and mass of broken spars and tackles, and finally pick up asmeared rope's end, which I helped him drag to the poop. There we foundthe commodore himself taking skilful turns around the mizzen with thesevered stays and shrouds dangling from the bowsprit, the French marineslooking on.
"Don't swear, Mr. Stacey," said he, severely; "in another minute we mayall be in eternity."
I rushed back to my guns, for the wind was rapidly swinging the sternof the Serapis to our own bow, now bringing her starboard batteries intoplay. Barely had we time to light our snatches and send our broadsideinto her at three fathoms before the huge vessels came crunchingtogether, the disordered riggings locking, and both pointed northward toa leeward tide in a death embrace. The chance had not been given him toshift his crews or to fling open his starboard gun-ports.
Then ensued a moment's breathless hush, even the cries of those inagony lulling. The pall of smoke rolled a little, and a silver moonlightfiltered through, revealing the weltering bodies twisted upon theboards. A stern call came from beyond the bulwarks.
"Have you struck, sir?"
The answer sounded clear, and bred hero-worship in our souls.
"Sir, I have not yet begun to fight."
Our men raised a hoarse yell, drowned all at once by the popping ofmusketry in the tops and the bursting of grenades here and there aboutthe decks. A mighty muffled blast sent the Bon homme Richard rolling tolarboard, and the smoke eddied from our hatches and lifted out of thespace between the ships. The Englishman had blown off his gun-ports.And next some one shouted that our battery of twelves was fighting themmuzzle to muzzle below, our rammers leaning into the Serapis to sendtheir shot home. No chance then for the thoughts which had tortured usin moments of suspense. That was a fearful hour, when a shot had scarceto leap a cannon's length to find its commission; when the belches ofthe English guns burned the hair of our faces; when Death was sovereign,merciful or cruel at his pleasure. The red flashes disclosed many an actof coolness and of heroism. I saw a French lad whip off his coat when agunner called for a wad, and another, who had been a scavenger, snatchthe rammer from Pearce's hands when he staggered with a grape-shotthrough his chest. Poor Jack Pearce! He did not live to see the work'Scolding Sairy' was to do that night. I had but dragged him beyondreach of the recoil when he was gone.
Then a cry came floating down from aloft. Thrice did I hear it, likeone waking out of a sleep, ere I grasped its import. "The Alliance! TheAlliance!" But hardly had the name resounded with joy throughout theship, when a hail of grape and canister tore through our sails from aftforward. "She rakes us! She rakes us!" And the French soldiers tumbledheadlong down from the poop with a wail of "Les Anglais font prise!""Her Englishmen have taken her, and turned her guns against us!" Ourcaptain was left standing alone beside the staff where the stars andstripes waved black in the moonlight.
"The Alliance is hauling off, sir!" called the midshipman of themizzen-top. "She is making for the Pallas and the Countess ofScarborough."
"Very good, sir," was all the commodore said.
To us hearkening for his answer his voice betrayed no sign of dismay.Seven times, I say, was that battle lost, and seven times regainedagain. What was it kept the crews at their quarters and the officersat their posts through that hell of flame and shot, when a madman couldscarce have hoped for victory? What but the knowledge that somewherein the swirl above us was still that unswerving and indomitable man whoswept all obstacles from before him, and into whose mind the thought ofdefeat could not enter. His spirit held us to our task, for flesh andblood might not have endured alone.
We had now but one of our starboard nine-pounders on its carriage, andword came from below that our battery of twelves was all but knocked toscrap iron, and their ports blown into one yawning gap. Indeed, we didnot have to be told that sides and stanchions had been carried away, forthe deck trembled and teetered under us as we dragged 'Scolding Sairy'from her stand in the larboard waist, clearing a lane for her betweenthe bodies. Our feet slipped and slipped as we hove, and burning bits ofsails and splinters dropping from aloft fell unheeded on our heads andshoulders. With the energy of desperation I was bending to the pull,when the Malay in front of me sank dead across the tackle. But, ere Icould touch him, he was tenderly lifted aside, and a familiar figureseized the rope where the dead man's hands had warmed it. Truly, thecommodore was everywhere that night.
"Down to the surgeon with you, Richard!" he cried. "I will look to thebattery."
Dazed, I put my hand to my hair to find it warm and wringing wet. WhenI had been hit, I knew not. But I shook my head, for the very notion ofthat cockpit turned my stomach. The blood was streaming from a gash inhis own temple, to which he gave no heed, and stood encouraging thatpanting line until at last the gun was got across and hooked to thering-bolts of its companion that lay shattered there. "Serve herwith double-headed, my lads," he shouted, "and every shot into theEnglishman's mainmast!"
"Ay, ay, sir," came the answer from every man of that little remnant.
The Serapis, too, was now beginning to blaze aloft, and chokingwood-smoke eddied out of the Richard's hold and mingled with the powderfumes. Then the enemy's fire abreast us seemed to lull, and Mr. Staceymounted the bulwarks, and cried out: "You have cleared their decks, myhearties!" Aloft, a man was seen to clamber from our mainyard into thevery top of the Englishman, where he threw a hand-grenade, as I thought,down her main hatch. An instant after an explosion came like a, clap ofthunder in our faces, and a great quadrant of light flashed as high asthe 'Serapis's' trucks, and through a breach in her bulwarks I saw menrunning with only the collars of their shirts upon their naked bodies.
'Twas at this critical moment, when that fearful battle once more waswon, another storm of grape brought the spars about our heads, and thatname which we dreaded most of all was spread again. As we halted inconsternation, a dozen round shot ripped through our unengaged side,and a babel of voices hailed the treacherous Landais with oaths andimprecations. We made out the Alliance with a full head of canvas, blackand sharp, between us and the moon. Smoke hung above her rail. Gettingover against the signal fires blazing on Flamborough Head, she wore shipand stood across our bows, the midshipman on the forecastle singing outto her, by the commodore's orders, to lay the enemy by the board. Therewas no response.
"Do you hear us?" yelled Mr. Linthwaite.
"Ay, ay," came the reply; and with it the smoke broke from her an
d thegrape and canister swept our forecastle. Then the Alliance sailed away,leaving brave Mr. Caswell among the many Landais had murdered.
The ominous clank of the chain pumps beat a sort of prelude to whathappened next. The gunner burst out of the hatch with blood running downhis face, shouting that the Richard was sinking, and yelling for quarteras he made for the ensign-staff on the poop, for the flag was shot away.Him the commodore felled with a pistol-butt. At the gunner's heels werethe hundred and fifty prisoners we had taken, released by the masterat arms. They swarmed out of the bowels of the ship like a horde ofTartars, unkempt and wild and desperate with fear, until I thought thatthe added weight on the scarce-supported deck would land us all in thebilges. Words fail me when I come to describe the frightful panic ofthese creatures, frenzied by the instinct of self-preservation. Theysurged hither and thither as angry seas driven into a pocket of astorm-swept coast. They trampled rough-shod over the moaning heaps ofwounded and dying, and crowded the crews at the guns, who were powerlessbefore their numbers. Some fought like maniacs, and others flungthemselves into the sea.
Those of us who had clung to hope lost it then. Standing with my backto the mast, beating them off with a pike, visions of an Englishprison-ship, of an English gallows, came before me. I counted theseconds until the enemy's seamen would be pouring through our raggedports. The seventh and last time, and we were beaten, for we had not menenough left on our two decks to force them down again. Yes,--I shameto confess it--the heart went clean out of me, and with that the painpulsed and leaped in my head like a devil unbound. At a turn of the handI should have sunk to the boards, had not a voice risen strong and clearabove that turmoil, compelling every man to halt trembling in his steps.
"Cast off, cast off! 'The Serapis' is sinking. To the pumps, ye fools,if you would save your lives!"
That unerring genius of the gardener's son had struck the only chord!
They were like sheep before us as we beat them back into the reekinghatches, and soon the pumps were heard bumping with a renewed and adesperate vigour. Then, all at once, the towering mainmast of theenemy cracked and tottered and swung this way and that on its loosenedshrouds. The first intense silence of the battle followed, in the midstof which came a cry from our top:
"Their captain is hauling down, sir!"
The sound which broke from our men could scarce be called a cheer. Thatwhich they felt as they sank exhausted on the blood of their comradesmay not have been elation. My own feeling was of unmixed wonder as Igazed at a calm profile above me, sharp-cut against the moon.
I was moved as out of a revery by the sight of Dale swinging across tothe Serapis by the main brace pennant. Calling on some of my boarders, Iscaled our bulwarks and leaped fairly into the middle of the gangway ofthe Serapis.
Such is nearly all of my remembrance of that momentous occasion. I hadcaught the one glimpse of our first lieutenant in converse with theircaptain and another officer, when a naked seaman came charging at me. Hehad raised a pike above his shoulder ere I knew what he was about, andmy senses left me.
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