As We Sweep Through The Deep

by Oliver Optic

  CHAPTER XI.

  THE PHANTOM FRENCHMAN.

  "If to engage we get the word, To quarters we'll repair, While splintered masts go by the board, And shots sing through the air." DIBDIN.

  Beautiful island of San Miguel! on whose shores, wherever they slope insheets of sand towards the sea, the white waves play and sing; whosegigantic rocks, frowning black and beetling above the water, are fondlylicked by mother ocean's tongue as dog salutes a master's hand.

  Island, surrounded by seas that towards the far horizon seemunfathomably blue, yet near around are patched in the sunshine withopal, with green, and with azure, and tremble like mercury under themoon and the starlight.

  Island of fountain-springs, that shoot their white and boiling sprayfarther skywards than ever spouted Nor'land whale.

  Island of mountains, high and wild, whose summits seek to withdraw fromearth away, and hide their proud heads above the clouds, when stormsrage far beneath.

  Island of green and lonesome glens, where bright-winged birds chant lowtheir love-songs to their listening mates, and where many a strange,fantastic fern nods weeping o'er the hurrying streams.

  Island of scented orange-groves, of waving palms, of dark dwarfpines--black shapes in many a cloud of green--of the rose, the camellia,the oleander, the passion-flower. Island of wild flowers, that grow andwanton everywhere, that have their home in the woods, that carpet theearth with colour, that clothe the rocks, that hang head downwards inmasses over many a foaming cataract, that climb the trees and reposelike living, sentient beings among the branches, wooing the bees,attracting the butterflies, and tempting the gay, metallic-tinted mothsto expand their cloaks in the sunshine, and fly clumsily to theirembrace.

  Island of seeming contentment, where even human beings live but to idleand to lounge and to love.

  Beautiful, beautiful island!

  Yes; but an island on which our heroes must not linger, for twice duringthe night a dark shape glided across the moon's bright wake, and thoseon watch on board the _Tonneraire_ knew it was the waiting, watchingfoe. But when day broke no foe was to be seen. Captain Mackenzie stayedtherefore only long enough to take in extra stores, water, and fruit,and to permit his fleet to do likewise; then the signal was made, "Upanchor, and to sea!"

  In silence the anchors were weighed on board the man-o'-war; butaccompanied on the merchant-vessels by the never-failing song, with itsfrequent abrupt conclusion, without which merchantman Jack finds itimpossible to carry on a bit of duty.

  "Hee--hoy--ee! Hee hoy! Pull, and she comes! Hoy--ee--ee! Hoip!"

  * * * * *

  All that day the young captain of the _Tonneraire_ kept his fleet welltogether. Not an easy task, for although the wind was by no means high,and was moreover favourable, being north-east by east--the coursesteered about north-west, the convoy bearing up for Halifax and the Gulfof St. Lawrence--still the sailing powers of the vessels variedconsiderably. The strength of an iron chain equals the strength of itsweakest link, and the speed of a fleet of merchantmen is measured bythat of its slowest sailer. While at San Miguel, Jack had tried toimpress this upon the minds of his various skippers. He held a meetingof these on board a large full-rigged ship, and told them their mottomust be, "Keep together," as the danger of an attack was imminent. Slowsailers must carry stun'-sails when they found themselves gettingbehind, while the fast must take in sail.

  They admitted this.

  "It is as plain as the nose on my face," said one intelligent skipper,who had a huge red bulbous proboscis you could have almost seen in thedark. "We've got to play up to you, Captain Mackenzie, just as the smallfry plays up to a great hactor on the stage."

  This was all very well, but then they did not do it, so that the rate ofspeed was slow; ships and barques having to haul their fore or mainyards aback at times to wait for the lazy brigs who either couldn't orwouldn't set stun'-sails. And at eventide, while the sun was going in alacework of golden cloud, and looking so red that he appeared to beashamed of the fleet, the vessels were scattered all over three squaremiles, and Jack Mackenzie, not now in the best of tempers, had tocollect them as a collie pens his sheep.

  It was dark enough after the somewhat brief twilight had given place tolight--to light and to _lights_, for signal-lanterns hung aloft on everyship; so all appeared safe and snug enough.

  But what had become of the Frenchman? He had not been seen all day. Wasit indeed but a phantom that had been seen in the moon's bright wake?

  A good watch was kept both 'low and aloft; and Jack went down to dinnerat the sound of the bugle.

  As he passed near the midshipmen's berth, quite a buzz of happy voicesissued therefrom. Jack paused for a few seconds to listen. It was not sovery long since he himself had been a middy. No responsibility had hethen, any more than rested on any of these bright young hearts atthat moment. How they laughed and chaffed and talked, to be sure!Interspersed in the hubbub were now and then snatches of merry song, andnow and then the notes of a somewhat squeaky and asthmatical violin,invariably followed by some one shouting, "Stop that awful fiddle!" "Hit'im in the eye with a bit o' biscuit!" or "Grease his bow!" Then adeeper bass voice, evidently Scotch, and just as evidently a juniorsurgeon's, saying, "Let the laddie practise.--Fiddle away, my boy; I'llthrash all hands if they meddle with ye."

  Jack went away laughing to himself. Little those boys--who not longsince left home and Merrie England--know or care that ere another hour,perhaps, the decks of the _Tonneraire_ may be slippery with blood.

  Ah! all the care was his--was the post-captain's. Uneasy lies the headthat--hallo! He had just entered the ward-room, and found all thefellows there quite as happy as the middies. They were at dessert, forthey dined earlier than their captain. M'Hearty was seated at the headof the table, and was spinning a short but funny yarn, to which hismessmates' laugh was ready chorus. Tom was vice-president; thelieutenants, the purser, and officers of the marines were ranged alongthe tables, red jackets and blue, forming a pretty contrast; the tablewas laden with fruit and flowers from the island they had that morningleft, while glasses and cruets sparkled on a tablecloth white as snow.

  Jack took all this in at a glance as he entered with a preliminary tap,which was not heard in the delicious hubbub. He almost sighed to thinkthat he had to go away and dine all by himself alone.

  On seeing the captain, every one rose, nor would they be seated until heconsented to sit down.

  "Just sit down, Captain Mackenzie," said M'Hearty, with a merry twinklein his eye, "and have a glass of wine while your soup is getting cold."

  "If the president bids me, I must obey," said Jack, seating himselfbeside Tom. "It must be but for a moment. There are older men thanmyself here--our worthy Master Simmons, for example. I came to take yourviews about that Frenchman. He is evidently a battle-ship, probably aseventy-four. I say fight him; but considering this is my firstcaptaincy--" But he was interrupted. Every man rose to his feet. It wasa strange council of war, because every man held aloft a glass of wine.

  The words, "Fight him!" ran round the table like platoon firing. Therewas determination in every eye and in every voice, from the deep bass ofthe gray-bearded master down to the shrill treble of the rosy-cheekedfledgeling marine-officer Murray, a mere boy, who would certainly haveseemed more in place in the cricket-field than on the battle-deck.

  "I'm going now," said Jack. "Thank you all.--Excuse me, won't you, Dr.M'Hearty? I think the soup is cold enough by this time. But we'll makeit hot for the enemy."

  "Hurrah!"

  The moon was later in rising that night, being on the wane.

  It was the first lieutenant's watch from eight till twelve. Nothingtranspired until about seven bells, when Jack and Tom Fairlie werewalking slowly up and down the poop. The moon was now well up, buthidden by a mass of cumulus cloud. Presently she would burst into view,for the clouds were sailing slowly along the horizon, and near hand wasa rift of blue. />
  Instinctively as it were, both officers stopped to gaze in thatdirection. In a few seconds the moon shot into the field of blue, andher light flashed over the sea.

  It flashed upon the phantom Frenchman, as Tom Fairlie called her; but soquickly had she come into view that the sight was startling in theextreme. She was not crossing the moon's wake this time, however, butbearing down upon the _Tonneraire_, as if about to attack her.

  The man at the mast-head had seen her at the same time, and hisstentorian shout of, "Enemy on the starboard quarter!" awoke thesleeping ship to instant life as effectually as if a fifty-pounder hadfired.

  All hands to quarters.

  R--r--r--r--r--r--r--r rattled the drum. It rattled once; the heaviestsleeper started and rubbed his eyes. It rattled twice; every man was onhis legs and dressing. Thrice; and three minutes thereafter every manstood by his gun, and the cockpit hatches were put down. The ship wasready for action.

  Would she come on? would the Frenchman fight? Alas! no. Already shebegan to assume larger proportions as she showed broadside on. Above thewind, that now blew more gently from the north, the very flapping of hersails and loosening of her sheets could be heard as she came round, andin less than an hour she had almost disappeared in the uncertain light.