CHAPTER XI
THE "HAPPY ADVENTURE"
"WOUNDED, and wants to go home, eh?" was the comment of the Governorof Dartmouth Castle, when Captain Dixon, the transport officer, madeknown my request. "Beshrew me, 'tis but a continuous stream of menfrom Dorset and Hamptonshire clamouring for passages, and most ofthem unscathed. What's thy name?"
I told him, and his abrupt manner changed.
"A relation of Sir Reginald Markham, of Ashley, perchance?"
"His son."
"I know Sir Reginald well by name, though I cannot call him to mind.Yet I would not be doing my duty if I refused to aid the son of aloyal cavalier. Let him have a passage by the first vessel, Dixon, ifhe be willing to take the risk of capture."
For the next three days I was at liberty to look around the town, foruntil Batten's squadron relaxed its vigilance or a kindly fog sweptdown upon the sea, escape was almost an impossibility.
The journey by road was not to be thought of, for the Roundhead causewas strong in Dorchester, Poole, Salisbury, and, in fact, nearlyevery village and town in Wiltshire and Dorset, and no man, not adeclared Parliamentarian, could travel through those districts insafety.
On the morning of the fourth day after my arrival a thick mist hungover the harbour, blotting out everything more than a hundred yardsaway. The outlines of the hamlet of Kingswear could just, and onlyjust, be discerned, while the ships in the river looked like enormousshadows as they swung to the strong tide.
"Bestir yourself, Master Markham," said Captain Dixon, "if you wantto get away to-day. The _Happy Adventure_ is to make an attempt tosail in an hour's time, if the mist holds."
As my personal belongings consisted solely in what I stood up in, mypreparations were soon completed, and in five minutes I was beingrowed off to the vessel which, if Providence willed, was to take mehomewards.
The _Happy Adventure_ was a large fishing-smack, which had thereputation of being the fastest sailer betwixt Start Point andPortland Bill, yet withal she was bluff-bowed and had a good amountof freeboard.
Her crew consisted of three men and a boy, besides which there weretwo passengers, a cornet of Lyle's Horse, and myself.
She was to bear despatches to Littlehampton, whence the cornet had toride with the precious missives to Arundel Castle, as the Governor ofDartmouth thought that the quickest and safest method ofcommunicating with that castle would be by water.
The huge brown sails were hoisted and the moorings slipped, and witha cool breeze that swept down from the hills in sudden squalls, the_Happy Adventure_ headed for the open sea. The blurred images of thecastle and St. Petrox appeared to glide past on our starboard hand,and the next instant the coast was blotted out in the ever-increasingfog, which soon grew so thick that we could scarce see from one endof the boat to the other.
Away on our larboard bow came the dull roar of beating surf, but themaster treated this with perfect composure.
"'Tis but the Mewstone," he remarked. "We must stand in more if wewould avoid the rebels' boats. Bear away, George," he added,addressing the helmsman, "and try to clear the rock by the boat'slength."
As we approached the roar became louder, but above the noise of thebreakers we heard the sound of oars, and a hoarse voice shouted,"Heave-to!"
"Ay! ay!" replied the master, rushing to relieve the man at thetiller.
"What! You are not going to give up without an effort?" exclaimed thecornet. But with an oath the master bade him hold his tongue.
Ahead a boat loomed through the mist, manned by a dozen rowers, withseveral musketeers in her stern-sheets. The men's matches werelighted, and their muskets at the ready.
"Heave-to, once more, I say, and throw us a line," shouted anofficer.
"I hear you, sir," replied the master. "Down sail!" he shouted to thecrew; but, obeying a motion of his hand, the men remained motionless.
The next instant the master had thrown his whole weight against thetiller; the _Happy Adventure_ seemed to swing round as if on a pivot,and her bluff bows crashed into the rebels' boat.
A shattering of wood, a chorus of shouts and shrieks, and the stoutcraft had overridden the frail long-boat, Then, within a little morethan an oar's length of the towering pinnacle of rock under our lee,the _Happy Adventure_ spun round and resumed her course, the mistswallowing up the figures of the struggling men, though for longtheir cries were heard above the roar of the surf.
"I owe you an apology for mistrusting you," exclaimed the cornet,holding out his hand to the imperturbable master; but the stiff oldsea-dog of Devon only bade him remember he was but a mere passenger,whereupon my fellow-voyager retired in confusion.
This was our only meeting with the vessels of Batten's squadron, andwith the favouring breeze that soon dispersed the mist, the _HappyAdventure_ bore steadily eastwards.
Shortly after midday the Bill hove in sight; then the wind failed,and until darkness set in the smack was rolling in the oily waters ofLyme Bay, with the distant sounds of the terrible Race being faintlyborne to our ears in the calm atmosphere.
About an hour after dark the cornet and I went to sleep, having onlythe rough comfort afforded by a heap of sails but, thanks to ourhardy life, we slept none the worse.
Our rest was fated not to be of long duration, for we were aroused bythe master giving orders in a loud and excited voice.
Springing to our feet, we peered into the inky blackness of thenight, and straight ahead we saw a row of glimmering lights arrangedin series of three, of which the middle one was slightly higher thanthe two outside.
They were the stern lanterns of a fleet.
"We are overhauling them fast," said the master "though we can scarcehope to pass by them ere daylight. If we are to avoid them we mustneeds stand in Poole Bay."
"I care not what ye do, as long as we are not taken," replied thecornet, who still smarted under his previous rebuff.
The breeze had freshened again, and we had run past Portland andwere, so the master told us, abreast of St. Alban's Head. Resolvingto stand more inshore, he altered the helm, and gradually we broughtthe endmost lights under our quarter.
Day dawned and found us within a couple of miles to leeward of thesquadron, with Christchurch Head about four miles to larboard. Wewere soon perceived, for a frigate altered her course and fired a gunfor us to bring to, whereupon the master, seeing flight out of thequestion, ordered the _Happy Adventure_ to shorten sail, at the sametime sending us down below.
In the cramped, close cabin we were unable to see what was takingplace, though we heard the hails from the frigate and our master'sreplies.
"Luff up under my stem and let's have a look at you," shouted anauthoritative voice. "Where are you from, and where are you bound?"
"From Poole to Cowes," answered the master.
"And the cargo?"
"Clay."
"Lay-to while I send a boat," shouted the officer, and we distinctlyheard the scurrying of bare feet and the creaking of the tackle asthe seamen prepared to lower one of the quarter-boats.
"They'll have us right enough," whispered the ensign, as he preparedto rush on deck to throw his despatches, already weighted with lead,into the sea; but even as his foot was on the ladder we heard thevoice continue, "Carry on with you." The bos'un's whistle sounded,and we heard the blocks creak as the frigate's yards were swunground.
Our vessel also resumed her course, and after some time had elapsedthe cornet insisted on leaving the cabin.
"Who told you to come on deck?" bawled the master, his speechaccompanied by a string of nautical oaths. "You jack-booted,brainless weathercock your tin figurehead has undone us!"
His words, though unceremonious, were quite true, for the frigate waskeeping a sharp eye on us, and perceiving the cornet's steel capemerge from the hatchway, the rebels concluded that they had made amistake in not searching us.
Her yards were trimmed once more, and she started in pursuit. A spurtof flame followed by a cloud of smoke burst from one of her bowports, and a sh
ot struck the water fifty yards from our quarter,rebounding twice ere it sank.
Making sure that every stitch of canvas was drawing, the master keptthe _Happy Adventure_ on her course, casting anxious glances over hisshoulder at the pursuing frigate, which was barely two miles astern.
"We gain a little," he remarked after a while, as the shots fellfarther and farther astern; but ahead was a belt of flat calm, andunless the breeze held our capture seemed inevitable.
The rest of the squadron had borne away more to the south'ard,heading towards the Needles Channel. Astern the frigate was crowdingon sail, ahead were the guns of Hurst Castle, and we knew that wewere fairly entrapped.
_The darting rays fell on my face, and with astifled cry of terror the soldier turned to flee._]
The cornet suggested running the vessel ashore, but to this proposalthe master gave a stern refusal.
"We have a chance, a bare chance," he said. "And as long as my craftfloats I'll take it."
Fortunately the breeze held in front of us, the belt of unruffledwater receding still farther as we progressed, and the _HappyAdventure_ showed that her reputation for sailing was no idle one.The frigate, too, finding that we were out of range had ceasedfiring, but had set her royals.
Staggering under her press of sail, she evidently found that the windwas too much for her, and shortly afterwards we could see the royalsbeing clewed up. Then a blinding rain set in, almost blotting out theoutlines of our pursuer, whereat the master whistled blithely.
"Edge her off a bit," he ordered, "or we'll be hard and fastaground." And, to my surprise, the smack was steered, not as Ithought towards the open sea, but nearer the shore. Though I dare notquestion this fiery-tempered son of Devon, he doubtless saw the lookof inquiry on my face.
"'Tis the Shingles, young sir," he explained. "A vast bank just belowthe surface. If yon vessel holds on her course she'll run herselfaground."
The frigate did not attempt to sheer off, and, as the master hadpredicted, she struck hard, her fore-topmast going by the board.
"That's settled her for the nonce," remarked the master. "But now forthe guns of Hurst Castle."
Once more we were to be shown the art of "bluffing." Trusting to hisproverbial luck, the master steered direct for the fortress, insteadof heading away for the more distant shore of the Isle of Wight.
Hurst is not a large castle; it is merely a stone fort, heavilymounted with guns, and occupies the extremity of a low spit ofshingle. Between it and the island the tide was surging in a mannerthe like of which I had never seen before, Tumbling and rolling in aconfused mass of broken water, the sea was running as fast as a horsecan trot--at least, that is what it appeared to me--but close to thecastle a strong eddy was making in an opposite direction to the mainflood.
Into this eddy the _Happy Adventure_ was steered. The frigate was nownearly lost in the rain cloud, though we could see that she was stillfast aground. Against the counter-current the smack only just heldher own, and, edging so close to the fortress that we could almosthave jumped on to the beach, she came within easy hailing distance.
"What ship is that?" shouted an officer, whose appearance could notbe taken for anything else than a rebel. He was supported by a fileof musketeers, while we could see some gunners cluster round a pieceof ordnance, that grinned at us through a wide embrasure.
"The _Happy Adventure_, of Poole. We are chased by the malignants.Can we take shelter in Keyhaven?"
"What is the name of the ship?"
"I know not; she is a frigate, and is aground on the Shingles."
"Carry on, and bring up in the haven."
"Very good, sir."
The smack kept close inshore, making slow progress till the entranceto the narrow creek behind the castle became visible then, before therebels could understand that they had been tricked, the _HappyAdventure_ shot into the main tide, and with the wind and current wasquickly out of gunshot.
We saved our tide right through the Solent. At the sight of CowesHarbour my thoughts flew back to the finding of staunch old NicholasFirestone. I often wondered whether I should see him again. And RalphGranville, too, where was he?
Then the low-lying fortifications of Portsmouth were seen three milesor more on our larboard bow, and the sight of Southsea Castle, overwhich the rebel flag was doubtless floating, brought back memories ofthe double-dealing Chaloner. I had an easy conscience concerning theslaying of that man, for he was both a traitor to the King and apersonal enemy to our house.
"I'll stand in a bit, young sir," said the master, pointing to a lowtree-clad shore. "Maybe, a fisherman will take you ashore. 'Tis themouth of Chichester Harbour you can see yonder, and 'twill save you along journey, though I cannot place you ashore here myself."
Fortunately there were fishermen at work just below the Outer PoleSands, and one of them expressed his willingness to land me. Aquarter of an hour later the _Happy Adventure_ was nearly lost tosight as she headed through the drizzling rain towards the LooeStream.
The fishing-boat, a frail-looking craft with a tall, narrow sail setup by a single halyard on a slender mast, after the fashion of theseparts--for there were half a dozen similar craft racing for theharbour--was not long in making the passage up the mud-bankedchannel, and just as the sun was setting I set foot in my nativecounty once more, at the town of Emsworth. After giving the fishermanone of my two remaining shillings, I inquired the way, and steppedbriskly out in the gathering darkness, knowing that a good many mileslay between me and Ashley Castle.
The Young Cavalier: A Story of the Civil Wars Page 11
