As We Sweep Through The Deep

by Oliver Optic

  CHAPTER XII.

  A BATTLE BY NIGHT.

  "What art thou, fascinating War, Thou trophied, painted pest, That thus men seek and yet abhor, Pursue and yet detest?"--DIBDIN.

  Day after day Jack's fleet held on its course, and the weathercontinued unbroken and fine. Day after day the phantom Frenchman hoveredsomewhere about, afraid perhaps to try conclusions with that rakish,spiteful-looking British frigate, or perhaps but biding her chance.

  Twice or thrice Jack put about, sailed back and challenged her, with ashot, to fight if she dared. There never came the slightest responsefrom Johnny Crapaud--she seemed indeed a phantom.

  And at night those on board the _Tonneraire_ could not help thinking thephantom was ever near them, even when it was too dark to see her. I donot think, however, that it kept many of the officers awake at night,although it must be confessed Jack was ill at ease. If it were possiblefor the enemy to steal near enough in the pitchy dark portion of thenight, the first intimation of her presence might be a raking broadsidethat would sweep the decks fore and aft; then farewell the _Tonneraire_.

  There are few things more difficult to bear than what Scotch people soexpressively term "tig-tire," or excessive tantalization. There came aday when Jack called his chief officers together in his own cabin.

  "Gentlemen," he said, "I've had enough of that French fellow. Why shouldhe follow us night and day, like the shadow of the evil one, and yetrefuse to fight? I mean to carry war into the enemy's camp, or rather onto his quarter-deck, if you think my plan feasible. Remember, I amhot-headed and young."

  Jack then unfolded his plans, and they were generally approved, thoughthe old master was somewhat doubtful of their success.

  "However," he growled, "I'll take the wheel. Better, perhaps, after all,that we should take the initiative; for, blow me to smithereens, ifthat tantalizing Froggie ain't spoiling my appetite!"

  There was a general laugh at this, and the council broke up.

  Next day it blew little more than a seven-knot breeze, and the sunsparkled on the waters like showers of diamonds. The Frenchman marvelledmuch to see not only the British frigate, but all the merchant fleetclose together, and with main or fore yards aback. The truth is, CaptainMackenzie was issuing his orders by boat.

  About an hour afterwards Johnny Crapaud smiled grimly to himself to seethe _Tonneraire_ fill her sails and tack out to offer him battle.

  "The fool!" said Johnny. "When the gale of wind shall come, then I shallfight. Till then, _non_, _non_!"

  So he filled and bore southwards next; and as Jack had no desire for arace, he returned to his fleet. He had done all he wanted to: he had putJohnny on the wrong scent.

  That night, at sunset, clouds gathered up and quite obscured the sky.

  Johnny rubbed his hands and chuckled.

  "Soon," he said, "it will blow what perfidious England calls big guns.Then--ah--_then_!"

  It blew big guns far sooner than he had expected.

  The night was intensely dark, but the half-moon would rise about fourbells in the middle watch.

  When Johnny Crapaud looked towards the fleet, lo! the vessels had extralights all, and lights were streaming from every port.

  "Ha! ha!" he grinned. "They rejoice; they dance. They think they havemade me fly. When the gale blows, then they will dance--to differentmusic."

  The watch kept on board the French seventy-four was not extra vigilant.Especially did no one think of looking astern. Had any one on theoutlook done so, then just about a quarter of an hour before moonrise hemight have seen a dark shape coming hand-over-hand across the water fromthe direction in which "fair France" lay--fair France that many a poorfellow on Johnny's ship would never see again.

  It was the _Tonneraire_. She had made a detour with every stitch ofcanvas set, and was now almost close aboard of the enemy.

  Ah! at last they perceive her; and the noise on board the enemy isindescribable--the shrieking of orders, the rattle of arms and cordage,the trampling of feet, the stamping and unlimbering of guns. Butagainst her stern windows, which are all ablaze with light, the_Tonneraire_ concentrates her whole starboard broadside. The effect isstartling and terrible. Confusion prevails on board the enemy--almostpanic, indeed; and this lasts long enough for the frigate to sail backon the other tack. Jack's object is to cripple her, and with this objectin view he concentrates his larboard broadside again in the stern of theseventy-four, and her rudder is a thing of the past.

  Away glides the _Tonneraire_. _She_ is the phantom now. She loads herguns, and is coming down with the wind again--like the wind, too--whenthe seventy-four gets in her first broadside. It does but little harm.It does not stop the onward rush of the swift bold frigate even for amoment; and Jack's next broadside is a telling one, for the Frenchman'ssails are not only ashiver, but aflap, awry, anyhow and everyhow; andjust as the moon throws her first faint light athwart the waves, oncemore the helpless merchantmen tremble to hear the thunder of twentycannon. For the _Tonneraire_ has crossed the enemy's hawse, and rakedhim fore and aft.

  Now down comes the Frenchman's foremast; and shortly after, a wildtriumphant shout echoes from stem to stern and stern to stem of braveyoung Jack's ship, for the enemy has surrendered.

  A French seventy-four striking her flag to a British frigate of fortyguns! Yes; but far more daring deeds than that which I now recordhappened in the dashing days of old.

  Captain Jack Mackenzie would have gone right straight on board theenemy, but the master cautioned him.

  "Nay, nay, sir," he said. "There is such a thing as French treachery; Ihave known it before. Wait till the moon gets higher, and we will boardin force. Remember, they may have about five hundred men still alive onthat ship."

  Jack took the advice thus vouchsafed; but in half-an-hour's time the_Tonneraire_ rasped alongside the seventy-four, and a rush was made upthe sides of the battle-ship.

  But all was safe.

  And stark and stiff on his own poop lay the French captain, andalongside him more than one of his officers. The decks were a sad sightin the glimmering moonlight, for splintered timbers and arms layeverywhere, and everywhere were dead and wounded.

  More by token, from the uncertain, heavy-swaying motion of the vessel,it was evident she had been badly hit 'twixt wind and water, and wasalready sinking. All haste was therefore made to save the men. Those ofthe ship's boats that were not smashed were lowered, and furtherassistance was sent for from the merchant fleet, and none too sooneither.

  A few minutes after the last man--and that was Jack Mackenzie, whopersonally superintended everything--had left the ill-fated Frenchman,her decks blew up with a dull report, the water rushed in from allsides, and just as the sun threw his first yellow beams upwards throughthe morning clouds, the great ship shuddered like a dying thing, andshuddering sank.

  Such is war; why should we desire it?

  But side by side with tragedy do we ever find something akin to theridiculous or comic.

  It was Tom Fairlie himself who was despatched to the merchant fleet tobeg them to send all the boats they could to rescue the wounded andprisoners from the sinking war-ship. Almost the first vessel he boardedwas that commanded by the skipper who owned the bulbous nose. And here astrange and a wonderful sight met his gaze. Arranged in double rank onthe quarter-deck were about twenty or more sailors, each armed with agun and bayonet, the skipper himself at their head drilling them.

  "Shoulder-houp!" he was shouting as Tom leaped down from the bulwark.

  The most comical part of the business was this: every one of the honestskipper's sailor-soldiers had a white linen shirt on over his dress, andas the men's legs were bare to the knees, they all looked as near tonaked as decency would permit. While Tom stopped to laugh aloud, CaptainBulbous hastened to explain.

  "Were comin' to your assistance, I was, in half-a-minute. Stuck on themshirts so's they should know each other from the French. See? Do lookcurious, though, I must admit. What! the fight all over? Well, I _
am_sorry."

  Before eight bells in the morning watch the prisoners were distributedall over the fleet, with the exception of the wounded, who were underthe charge of Dr. M'Hearty on board the saucy _Tonneraire_.