Kilgorman: A Story of Ireland in 1798

by Talbot Baines Reed

  CHAPTER TWENTY TWO.

  ON HIS MAJESTY'S SERVICE.

  How long Tim and I clung to the spar I know not. The next thing Iremember was opening my eyes and finding myself in the bottom of a boatcrowded with men from the _Kestrel_. The sea was running mountainshigh, and the boat, without rudder or oars, was flung like a cork fromwave to wave. The dawn was just beginning to show in the sky, and thethunder of surf and wind was deafening.

  "Where is Tim?" said I.

  No one heard me, or, if they heard, heeded me. I raised my head andlooked anxiously from one to another of my comrades.

  "Where is Tim?" I asked again, louder, and with a pluck at the sleeveof the man nearest me.

  "Where all the rest are," replied the man, "if you mean the lieutenant."

  I crawled from where I lay and came beside him on the bench.

  "Drowned?" I asked.

  "There was only room for one of you when we picked you up. He made ustake you, and it was all we could do to get you aboard."

  "And Tim?"

  "We gave him a rope to lash him to his spar, and lost sight of him."

  Half-drowned and bruised as I was, this blow sent me back to the bottomof the boat like one already dead. What had I to live for now?

  When I came to myself next a change had come over the scene. The seahad quieted down, the afternoon sun was striking across the waves, andahead of us, on the northern horizon, was a low, grey line of coast.

  But it was not at that that all eyes were turned, but at a noble-lookingship hove-to in the offing, not a mile away, and flying a signal fromher peak.

  Our men had sighted her an hour ago, and rigged up an oar with a rag atthe end, which the ship had observed. And what all eyes were now intenton was her pinnace, as she covered the distance between us.

  It was always my luck to be rescued when I had least heart for life, andI confess if I had seen the boat capsize that moment I should have beenwell enough pleased.

  But she had no notion of capsizing. Long before she came up we couldsee that she was manned by smart English blue-jackets, and belonged to aline-of-battle ship in the king's navy--one of the very ships, no doubt,that Captain Keogh had been so anxious to avoid in Galway Bay.

  Half-an-hour later we were on the shining deck of his majesty's ship_Diana_, thirty-eight guns, standing out, with all sails set, for thewide Atlantic. My comrades were too thankful to find themselves alive,with food to eat and dry clothes to put on, to concern themselves as tothe ship's destination. But I, who yearned to know and share the fateof those I loved, groaned as I saw the coast-line drop astern, andrealised that, after all, I was as far from home as ever.

  As soon as we were revived and fed--and I am bound to confess we werehumanely treated in that respect--a ship's officer came forward andquestioned us.

  I, as brother to the lieutenant, was put forward to answer; and I toldhim all, not omitting our contraband cargo, or the manner of my ownjoining the _Kestrel_.

  "Well, lads," said the officer, "you've paid for your bit of fun. Ifthe _Diana_ had had her full complement of men, you might have beenwhistling in the breakers still. Now you belong to his Majesty, andyour names are entered on the books of his ship. It's more than youdeserve, but that can't be helped. Report yourselves to the boatswain."

  "Begging your pardon," said I, "I have business in Ireland that presses,and--"

  "Hold your tongue, sir," said the officer, turning on his heel.

  The land was now out of sight; the ship's course was due west; everysail was full. The boatswain's whistle was calling to quarters. Tim,and Miss Kit, and Fanad, and Kilgorman were part of an ended life.There was nothing for it but to grin and bear it.

  So I reported myself, and wrote my name on the books, and became aservant for life of his Majesty.

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  Now it is no part of my story to relate all that happened to me duringthe year or two that followed. Not that it was without adventure orperil, or that it would not bear the repetition. On the contrary, if Ionly knew how to write a book (which none of those who read what I havewritten so far would be cruel enough to impute to me), I could fill avolume with adventures which not many sea-dogs could show a match to.

  But somehow those years, save in a few particulars, never seemed to rankas part of my life. Just as when you come to the old cabin at Fanad,and want to reach Kilgorman, you find a mile or two of water in yourway, which, though it has to be traversed, belongs neither to one sidenor to the other, so I reckon those years as years by themselves, makingonly a break in the coast-line of my story.

  The _Diana_, spent most of her time in foreign waters, whither no newsof any of those I desired to hear of reached me. For a year we cruisedin the West Indies, fighting Frenchmen and yellow fever and pirates.Then a summons came to take a convoy into Indian waters, where we wereengaged in protecting English merchantmen from the depredations ofFrench and Spanish privateers. Then, just as the welcome order toreturn to Europe arrived, an engagement in the Persian Gulf disabled us,and compelled us to put into the nearest port for repairs. And beforewe were fit to sail again, a sudden demand for reinforcements in theWest Indies called us back there, where we fought the Frenchmen everyother day.

  That was the one part of the business I liked best. Every broadside wepoured into the enemy helped to wipe out my scores against the RepublicOne and Indivisible. I am told I distinguished myself more than once inthe course of the cruise, though I can take little credit to myself fordisinterested gallantry if I did. I had only to call to mind the visionof my dear little mistress as I saw her last, pale and scared in thesqualid attic in the Quai Necker, with her bright eyes turned on mine,with her hand on my arm, and her voice, "Come back early, Barry," tomake a demon of me, as with my cutlass in my teeth I sprang on to theenemy's rigging, and dashed for his hatchways.

  I cared so little for my life in those days that I was ready for anyreckless or desperate adventure, and was pretty sure to be selected asone of the party when any specially critical exploit called forvolunteers. If I bore a charmed life it was no credit of mine, and if Ihad more than my fair chance of distinguishing myself it was because theadventure always comes to the adventurous, not that I was greedy of whatbelonged to others.

  On one occasion--it was an evening towards the end of our long term ofservice in foreign waters--I found myself not only lucky but famous, ina way I had never dreamed of. We were lying off Chanson, a Frenchisland, embayed by a strong gale of wind, and uncomfortably near therange of a fort, with which for some hours we had been exchangingdistant shots of defiance. Captain Swift, our commander, would haveliked, had it been possible, to secure himself more sea-room; but as thewind then blew it did not seem safe to attempt to shift our anchorage,and incur the risk of getting further under the guns than we were.

  Captain Swift was in the act of debating with his officers as to theadvisability of sending an expedition ashore to deal with the fort, whenthe look-out man announced two French sail in the offing bearing down onus.

  This decided the question. To stay where we were was to wait to becaught between the two fires of the ships and the fort. We must get outof the bay somehow, and to do it we must make a desperate effort tosilence the fort.

  Two boats were ordered out, each in charge of a midshipman and a pettyofficer. Twenty men were told off for each boat. Our instructionswere, as soon as night fell, to put off for shore, land at two differentpoints a mile apart, and approach the fort from opposite sides. The_Diana_, meanwhile, was to slip her cables and attempt the perilous featof warping out of the bay, so as to be ready for the French ships.

  Much depended on the promptitude and success with which theexpeditionary force tackled the fort. For if morning dawned with itsguns on our lee-side and the two enemies to windward, there was littlechance of getting out of the dilemma.

  The lieutenant in charge of the first boat selected me among his crew.Wi
th cutlasses and pistols in our belts, a coil of rope over ourshoulders, and spiking gear handy, we took our places silently, andwaited impatiently for the dark. The sun as usual in those partstoppled down suddenly into the sea, and almost before the last edge ofhis orb dipped, we were on our way for the shore. Our only difficultyin landing was the heavy surf, which nearly stove in our boat. Wemanaged to beach it, however, without much damage, and then started at arun for our destination.

  Before we reached it we heard shouts and the sharp crack of muskets,which told us our manoeuvre had been detected and prepared for.

  Then followed a regular race, led by the officers. While some fell,others would get in; but that we should all return to the _Diana_ wasnot to be hoped for.

  The guns of the fort were so placed that once under them they could dolittle harm. Our danger came from the enemy's infantry, who wereevidently in reserve to protect the guns.

  Now I had spent part of the day in carefully studying the fort through atelescope, and had come to the conclusion that a few nimble fellows, byaid of ropes and the trees whose branches almost overhung the wallbehind, could enter it by the rear, and possibly, by creating adiversion in that quarter, help the main body who attacked it from thefront. As soon as the order for a rush was given, I called on a few ofmy comrades--among them one or two of the _Kestrel_ men--to follow meand make the attempt. We made a long detour, and, as I expected, foundlittle or no difficulty in reaching the trees.

  Once up these, it was not a very difficult feat to swing ourselves on tothe top of the broad wall and so gain the yard, where we could even nowsee the gunners hard at work.

  "Now, lads," whispered I, "each pick your man, fire when I give thesignal, and then for the guns."

  There were but six guns, each manned by two men, and so intent were theyon the attack in front that they had not so much as the tail of an eyefor the rear. There were five of us in all. We kept well in the shadowtill we covered each our man. Then I gave the signal. The pistols rangout, followed by a loud British cheer, as we rushed forward, cutlass inhand, on the gunners. Aided by darkness and surprise, and the good aimof our first volley, we were soon on equal terms as regarded numbers;and after that there was of course no question as to whom the gunsbelonged. Two of our fellows were killed and one wounded, leaving butme and one other to haul down the French flag.

  Our orders had been to spike the guns, but as things had turned out itseemed better now to hold them, and if possible turn them on the enemy.All had been done so quickly that those without knew nothing of what hadhappened. We could hear the firing grow feebler and more distant, andguessed that our men had been outnumbered, and were being chased down totheir boats. In the present darkness we could do nothing to help them;for even if we could have lowered the guns enough to cover them, ourshot might have hurt them more than the enemy.

  Our only hope was in the faint glow of dawn on the horizon, and theprospect, in a few minutes, of sufficient daylight to work by.Meanwhile we loaded, and reconnoitred the fort, in readiness for themoment of action.

  Day came at last, and showed us the _Diana_ with the two French shipsclose-hauled, trying to keep their weather-gage. Our men ashore werestill hemmed in between the fort and the troops, who, now we came tolook at them, were posted in force behind some earthworks whichcommanded the passage from the shore to the fort. One of our boats wasstove in, and the other was in the hands of the enemy.

  Without a glass it was hard to read the signals on the _Diana_; but shemust have noticed that the French flag on the fort was down, for we sawher set her sails and prepare to meet her two assailants in the open.If she could only get the weather-gage, we would startle the Frenchmenin a way which would amaze them.

  As for our own fellows ashore, a pounding shot from one of our guns,which we contrived to lower sufficiently to command the earthworks, soonapprised them what was in the wind, and with a rush they made for thenow friendly fort. The enemy followed, but too slowly to prevent theirentrance. The few shots they sent were wild and high. Only one tookeffect, and that, alas! was on my faithful comrade; so that when thegate was opened, I was the only man left to hand over the fort to hisMajesty's officers.

  After that, we made short business of the Republic One and Indivisiblein the island of Chanson. The _Diana_ slipped out cleverly in thewind's eye, with a broadside a-piece to her opponents, who, when theyfound themselves caught between the two fires, thought better of theirenterprise, and tried to get out of it.

  Only one of them succeeded; and our fellows spent a merry morning andafternoon with the other, boarding her and running the king's flag tothe top of her mainmast.

  This adventure--though, as I say, I deserved no more credit for it thanthe score of gallant fellows who lost their lives--gained me no smallrenown; and when presently the _Diana_ was ordered home to Britishwaters, one of the first pieces of news that met me when we landed atPortsmouth was that I had been recommended to the Admiralty as asuitable person to receive his Majesty's warrant as boatswain to myship. Meantime, as necessary repairs to the _Diana_ would necessitate afull month in dock, leave of absence for a week or two was granted tomost of her crew in consideration of their long service.