Day after day passed by, and no account could we gain of poor Captain Stenning. It was very clear, also, that if we did, we should not be able to obtain his liberation by force. At last one day the captain sent for me.

"Williams," said he, "I have had news of one of the Dolphin's people, if not of Captain Stenning himself. I must myself go and see him, and I want a companion in whom I have perfect confidence. As you are a steady, sensible man, with good nerve, I shall be glad to take you with me, if you are willing to accompany me. I should probably have taken Poplar, but his figure is so conspicuous that he would have been remarked."

I was much pleased with the way in which he spoke of me, and I told him that I was ready to follow wherever he chose to lead the way.

"That is the spirit I expected to find in you," he replied.

"It is, however, right that you should understand that there is considerable danger in the expedition; for if our errand was to be discovered, we should certainly be sacrificed to the fury of the Moors."

"I've no fear about that, sir," said I. "A man cannot expect to be always able to do what is right without running some risk and taking some trouble."

Sidy that evening brought us off some Moorish clothes, in which the captain and I rigged ourselves out. We certainly did look two funny figures, I thought, as we turned ourselves round and round in them. Sidy had not forgotten a couple of long knives, to which the captain added a brace of pistols a piece. I was very glad it was dusk when we left the ship, for I should not have liked my shipmates to have seen me with my bare legs and slippers, and a dirty blanket over my head just like an old Irishwoman.

A shore-boat was alongside—a sort of canoe turned up at both ends, and flat-bottomed. An old Moor sat in her. Sidy had bribed him to put us on shore, and to ask no questions. He told him that we were Moors, who had had business on board the brig, and that we desired to land without notice. He accordingly pulled to an unfrequented part of the harbour, and we stepped on shore, as we believed, unnoticed. The captain and Sidy led the way, I following in the character of a servant. Of course, if spoken to, I was to be dumb. We passed along a narrow sandy road, with low stone walls on either side skirting the town, till we arrived at the entrance of a house of somewhat larger dimensions than those of the neighbouring edifices. This, I found, was the residence of a German renegade and a merchant, who had, by Sidy's means, been bribed to assist us.

We were ushered into his presence as Moorish guests come to visit him. He was seated cross-legged on a cushion at one end of a room, with a large pipe by his side. The apartment was not very finely furnished, seeing that it had little else in it besides a few other cushions like the one he sat on. Certainly he looked exactly like an old Moor, and I could not persuade myself that he was not one. He invited us to sit down; which the captain and Sidy did near him, while I tucked my legs under me at a distance. After he had bowed and talked a little through the interpreter, he clapped his hands, and some slaves brought each of us a pipe—not an unpleasant thing just then to my taste. Again he clapped his hands, and the slaves brought in some low, odd, little tables, one of which was placed before each of us. There was a bowl of porridge, and some plates with little lumps of fried meat, and rice, and dates, but not a drop of grog or liquor of any sort. Afterwards, however, coffee was brought to us in cups scarcely bigger than thimbles; but it did little more than just warm up my tongue. As soon as the slaves had withdrawn, I was not a little surprised to hear the seeming Moor address the captain in tolerable English.

"So you want to find one of your captured countrymen?" said he. "Well, to-morrow morning I start on a journey to visit a friend who has one as a slave. His description answers that of him whom you seek. I will obtain for you a short conversation with him. You must contrive the means of rescuing him. I can do no more."

After some further talk on the subject our host got up, and, having carefully examined all the outlets to the room to ascertain that no one was looking in, produced a stout black bottle from a chest, and some glasses. I found that the bottle contained most veritable Schiedam.

"Now, as I don't think this good stuff was known to Master Mohammed when he played his pranks on earth, he cannot object to any of his faithful followers tasting a drop of it now and then."

Thereon he poured out a glass for each of us, and winked at Sidy, as much as to say, "We understand each other—we are both of us rogues." The captain took but little; so did I: but Muly Hassan the merchant, and the interpreter, did not stop their potations till they had finished the bottle, and both were very drunk. The merchant had sense enough left to hide his bottle, and then his slaves came and made him up a couch in one corner of the room. They also prepared beds for us in the other corners.

The next morning we were up before break of day, and mounted on some small horses, almost hid by their gaily-coloured saddle-cloths and trappings. And such saddles! Rising up in peaks ahead and astern, a drunken tailor could not have tumbled off one of them had he tried. I do not remember much about the appearance of the country. A large portion was lying waste; but there were fields of various sorts of corn, and even vineyards, though the grapes produced from them were not, I suppose, used for the manufacture of wine: indeed, I know that they are eaten both fresh and dried. Date-trees were, however, in great abundance, the fruit being one of the principal articles of food among the people. The roads were very bad; and altogether there was an air of misery and neglect which will always be seen where the ruler is a tyrant and the people are slaves. We rested in some sheds put up for the accommodation of passengers during the heat of the day, and in the afternoon proceeded on to our destination.

"Now, my friends, look out for your countryman," said the renegade. "You will probably see him tending cattle or labouring in the fields among other slaves. He is probably in his own dress, and you will easily recognise him."

Curiously enough, we had not ridden on for ten minutes further, when, not far from the road, we saw a man seated on a bank a short distance from the road, and looking very sorrowful and dispirited. His dress was that of a seaman. I looked round, and seeing no one near except our own party, I slipped off my horse, and ran up to him. Of course, he thought I was a Moor, and he looked as if he would have fainted with surprise when he heard me hail him in English.

"Who are you? What do you come here for?" he exclaimed, panting for breath.

"I belong to the Dolphin brig, and I came here to try and find Captain Stenning and any of his companions."

"Heaven be praised, then?" he exclaimed, bursting into tears. "He and I are the only survivors of that demon-possessed craft which he commanded. But how came your vessel to be called by the name of one which proved so unfortunate?"

"I cannot tell you all about that just now," I answered, seeing that much time would be lost if I entered into particulars. I therefore merely explained the steps we had taken to discover them, and asked him what had become of Captain Stenning.

"The captain! He has been in this very place till within the last three or four weeks, when the Moors carried him away to serve on board one of their ships—the very ship which captured us. They found out that he was the captain and understood navigation, so they took him to navigate one of their piratical craft. I was sick and unfit for work, or they would have taken me likewise; but they saw that I was only a man before the mast, and guessed that I did not understand navigation. What has since become of the captain I don't know. There is no one here I can talk to. They set me to work by signs, which, if I do not understand, they sharpen my wits with a lash; and they take care that I shall not run away, by securing me at night with a chain round my leg. There are several other slaves employed by the same master, but not one of them understands a word of English."

The young man's name was Jacob Lyal, he told me; and he said that he was just out of his apprenticeship when he joined the Dolphin.

"I have a father and mother, and brothers and sisters, at home, in Somersetshire, and it would make their hearts sorrowful if they heard that I was left a slave in this barbarous country; so you'll do all you can to help me," he exclaimed, as I was about to leave him, for I was afraid of remaining longer lest we should be observed.

Just as I was going, however, I told him to try and arrange some plan by which we might have a talk with him, and let him know how things stood before we left the place, should we be unable to take him with us. He also described very accurately the sort of place in which he was locked up at night; and I promised, if I could, to go and have some more conversation with him. As we did not lose time in talking of anything except the matter in hand, I was speedily able to rejoin the captain and his companions. The captain approved of the arrangements I had made, though he was very sorry that there was no immediate prospect of meeting with Captain Stenning.

We were received with all the usual marks of respect by the old Moor who owned the property. He had been a pirate in his youth, and cut-throats and robbed without compunction; but he was now a dignified old gentleman, who looked as if he had been engaged in rural affairs all his life. I came in for almost as much of the attention and good fare as the captain; for in that country a beggar may eat off the same table, or rather the same floor, and sit under the same roof as a prince. The excuse for the visit was to sell to the old Moor some of the goods aboard the Dolphin, specimens of which the captain had brought with him.

As soon after our arrival as we had shaken the dust out of our clothes, and washed our faces and our hands and feet, we were ushered by slaves into a hall, at one end of which sat the old Moor, and the captain and the renegade and the interpreter were placed on each side of him, and I sat a little further off, tucking up my legs as I had done before; and then some black slaves in white dresses brought in a little table for each of us, with all sorts of curious things to eat, which I need not describe, for in that country one feast is very much like another. The renegade had also brought a case; but that it contained something besides merchandise he proved by producing, one after the other, several of his favourite bottles of Schiedam, which apparently were no less acceptable to the old Moor than to him. I am not, however, fond of describing such scenes, or of picturing such gross hypocrites as the renegade and the old Moor.

I gained an advantage, however, from their drunken habits; for as soon as it was dark I stole out of the house, and tried to find my way to the shed where Lyal told me he was chained at night. I had taken good note of the bearings of the place as we rode along. I knew that if I was found prying about, I should run a great chance of being killed; but still I was resolved to run every risk to try and rescue the poor fellow from captivity. Of course, as the captain afterwards told me, we might have gone home to England, and laid the state of the case before the Government; and after a year or so spent in diplomatising, the poor fellow, if he was still alive, might have been released, or the Emperor of Morocco might have declared that he could not find him, or that he was dead; and thus he would have remained on, like many others, in captivity.

There was a little light from the moon, which enabled me to mark the outlines of the house I was leaving, as well as to find my way. Two servants were stationed in the entrance passage, but they had wrapped themselves up in their haiks and gone soundly to sleep, so I stepped over their bodies without waking them. Every person about the house, indeed, seemed to have gone to sleep, but the dogs were more faithful than the human beings, and some of them barked furiously as I walked along. They were either chained or locked up, and finding my footsteps going from them, they were soon silent. At length I reached the shed I was in search of. It was near a cottage, with several other similar sheds in the neighbourhood. As I came to the entrance, a voice said—

"Come in; but speak low."

At first I could see no one, but on going further in, I discovered the object of my search sitting in a corner on a heap of straw. He was chained there, and could not move.

"It gives me new life to see a countryman here, and one who wants to help me," said the poor fellow. "I thought all the world had deserted me, and that I should be left to die in this strange land, among worse than heathens, who treat me as a dog; or that I should be tempted to give up my faith and turn Mohammedan, as others have done."

I cannot repeat all our conversation. At last an idea struck me.

"I'll tell you what," said I; "just do you pretend to be mad, and play all sorts of strange pranks, and do all the mischief you can; and then the captain will propose to buy you, and perhaps the old Moor will sell you a bargain, and be glad to be rid of you."

"A very good idea," he answered. "But here am I chained up like a dog, and how am I to get free?"

"No fear," said I, producing a knife which Peter had given me, containing all sorts of implements, and among them a file. "You shall soon be at liberty, at all events."

Accordingly I set to work, and in less than an hour I had filed the chain from off his legs. While we were filing away, we arranged what he was to do. He was to make a huge cap, with a high peak of straw, and he was to cut his jacket into shreds, and a red handkerchief I had into strips, and to fasten them about him in long streamers, and he was to take a thick pole in his hand, covered much in the same way, and then he was to rush into the house, shrieking and crying out as if a pack of hounds were after him.

"They will not wonder at seeing me mad, for I have done already many strange things, and very little work, since I came here," he remarked. "But what it to become of the chain?"

"You had better carry that with you, and clank it in their faces," said I. "Make as if you had bitten it through. That will astonish them, and they will, at all events, be afraid to come near your teeth."

To make a long story short, we worked away with a will, and in half an hour or so he was rigged out in a sufficiently strange fashion. I have no doubt, had Peter been with us, he would have improved on our arrangement. I then, advising Lyal to follow me in a short time, stole back, and took my place unobserved in the old Moor's dining-hall. The captain guessed what I had been doing, but the rest of the party had been too much engaged in their potations to miss me. After a little time I stole over to the captain and told him the arrangements I had made, that he might be ready to act accordingly.

In a short time the silence which had hitherto prevailed was broken by a terrible uproar of dogs barking, and men hallooing and crying out at the top of their voices; while, above all, arose as unearthly shrieks as I had ever heard. Presently in rushed a crowd of black and brown servants, followed by a figure which I recognised as that of Lyal, though he had much improved his appearance by fastening a haik over his shoulders and another round his waist, while he waved above his head a torch, at the risk of setting his high straw-cap on fire. The people all separated before him, as he dashed on, right up to the old Moor, who, with a drunken gaze of terror and astonishment, stared at him without speaking.

"Ho! ho!" shouted the sailor, seizing him by the nose; "old fellow, I have you now!"

Thereon he kicked over the jar of Schiedam, the contents of which he set on fire with his torch; and keeping fast hold of the old Moor's nose, who in his fright knew not how to resist, dragged him round and round the room, shouting and shrieking all the time like a very demoniac.

The place would have been meantime set on fire had not the captain and I quenched the flames, while the renegade and the interpreter, in their drunken humours, could only lean back on their cushions, and laugh as if they would split their sides at the extraordinary predicament of our host.

"I say, countrymen, if you had but your horses ready, we might gallop away before all these people knew where they are," shouted Lyal. "Who'll just take a spell at the old fellow's nose, for I am tired of holding on?"

On this Captain Gale thought that it was time to interfere, and he and I going up to the old Moor, pretended to use great exertion in dragging away the sailor from him. The captain then led him back to his seat, while I held Lyal.

"Here, Sidy," said the captain to the interpreter; "tell the old man that if he will give me fifty dollars, I will take that madman off his hands."

When the old Moor had somewhat recovered his composure, Sidy explained the offer. "He says that he can kill him, and so get him out of his way!" was the answer. "He dare not do that," put in the renegade; "all the people here will own him as inspired. Abate your price, and stick to it."

Finally, the captain consented to carry away the madman on having twenty dollars added to the price he was to receive for his goods.

"Take him! take him!" exclaimed the old Moor. "The man who can eat through iron, drive all my slaves before him, set fire to my house, and pull me by the nose, is better away from me than near! Take care, though, that he does not come back again!"

The captain promised that he would take very good care of that; and the next day, with joyful hearts at our unexpected success, we set forward on our return-journey to Salee. As the renegade and Sidy were both to be rewarded according to our success, they were well content; and by their aid, the same night we got on board the brig with our recovered countryman without being observed. We had now to turn the whole of our attention to the recovery of Captain Stenning; and every excuse which Captain Gale could think of was made for our stay in the harbour. Still, we had very little of our cargo left, and every day saw it decrease. The spring-tides were also coming on, when there was the greatest depth of water on the bar, and we could the most easily make our escape without a pilot.



CHAPTER TWELVE.

THE SALEE ROVER AND THE BRITISH CORVETTE.

As we lay at our anchors off Salee, we had a view from the mast-head of the open sea, over a point of land which ran out below the town. Snug as we were, it was one day blowing a heavy gale outside from the northward. Dark clouds chased each other across the sky, and the ocean—black and gloomy—was sprinkled over with white-topped seas. I was engaged aloft about the rigging, when I observed a sail to the north-west staggering along with as much canvas as she could carry. So rapidly did she make her way through the water, that I soon perceived that she was a brig, and that she was standing towards the harbour. The reason of her carrying so much sail, with so heavy a gale blowing, was soon explained. Two or three miles astern of her came a large ship, with all her topsails set, evidently in chase. The latter, better able from her size to bear a heavy press of sail, was coming up with her rapidly. On seeing this I hailed the deck, and the captain, and Mr Carr, and Peter, and others, soon came aloft to watch the progress of the chase.

"I make it all out clearly," exclaimed the captain, after watching the state of affairs through his glass. "That craft is the very rover which plundered this vessel, or exactly like her; and the ship is a British man-of-war corvette, which is in chase of her. I can make out the English ensign clearly. The rover hopes to get into port before the guns of the corvette can be brought to bear on her; and that's just what I hope the rascal won't be able to do."

"But that's the very craft Stenning is said to be on board," observed Mr Carr. "Poor fellow, it will go hard with him when the corvette's guns begin to play on the brig."

"I wish that we could run out and bring her to action, so as to give the corvette time to come up and take possession," said I to Peter, who was near me.

"If the weather were moderate we might do it; but, with this gale blowing, I doubt if even our captain would run the risk," he answered. "Besides you see, Jack, all the people we have had anything to do with here would get into a great scrape if we played such a trick to one of their vessels. Yet I tell you, lad, I would like the fun amazingly. The villains don't deserve any mercy at our hands."

While Peter and I were discussing the subject, so were the captain and Mr Carr. They gave up the idea of running out to meet the rover, as thereby they would have but little chance of saving the life of Walter Stenning, if he was still on board. By this time, both the brig and ship had drawn close in-shore, and every movement could clearly be observed with the naked eye. Poor Jacob Lyal had come aloft; and as soon as he recognised the brig, he was nearly falling on deck, overpowered with all the dreadful recollections her appearance conjured up.

No vessel, unless one well acquainted with the coast, could have ventured to stand in as close as the brig had done. She was now about a mile from the entrance of the harbour; and the corvette, outside of her, had just begun to fire a bow-gun now and then, to try its range. At last a shot went through one of the brig's topsails. She, in return, fired, endeavouring to cripple her pursuer, thus to have time to run under the shelter which was so near. Never have I witnessed a more exciting scene. Our mast-heads were soon crowded with spectators. Even the sluggish Moors rushed out of their houses, and went to the neighbouring heights to watch what was going forward. Their interest was, however, on the other side of the question. Many of them must have had relatives and friends on board the rover, and they were as anxious for her escape as we were to see her captured. The action now became warm—both corvette and brig were firing away as fast as they could load.

"Hurrah! the pirate seems to be getting the worst of it," said I to Peter. "The rovers will meet with their deserts before long, I hope."

"So do I," he answered. "But do you know, Jack, I'm more anxious about the corvette. If she were to receive any damage, and not be able to haul off-shore, she is, do you see, on an enemy's coast, and all her people would be made prisoners, if not murdered; while the brig has a port under her lee, and can run in even if she gets a good deal of knocking about."

While we were thus talking, the corvette had drawn still nearer to the brig, and her shot began to tell with considerable effect. Down came the brig's maintop-gallant-mast, the spars hanging by the rigging. We next saw several hands going aloft to clear it away, when another shot struck the maintop-mast. The Moors attempted in haste to slide down the stays and shrouds, but scarcely had they begun their descent when the mast bent over to leeward, and down it came with a crash, jerking off many of them into the sea. There in vain they struggled for life; the combatants flew on, leaving them to their fate. Still the brig had her mainsail set, and with the gale there was blowing, that was sufficient after-canvas for her to carry with advantage. She ceased firing. "Hurrah! she is going to strike," we exclaimed; but the wreck of the maintop-mast was quickly cleared away, and she commenced again with greater briskness than ever. In return, the corvette plied her fast and furiously with shot, which must have told pretty severely among her people on deck, though, of course, we could not see the damage which was done. The brig was within a quarter of a mile of the mouth of the harbour. It was high-tide, but we well knew that there was not water sufficient on the bar to allow the corvette to enter. Still, on she boldly came in hot chase.

"She cannot surely fancy that she can venture in," exclaimed Captain Gale. "She'll be lost to a certainty if she does. Poor fellows! not one will escape with their lives should she strike. Carr, we must run out, and try and pick some of them up, at all hazards. The wind is sufficiently to the northward to carry us clear, and the people on shore are so engaged in watching the chase, that they will not observe us getting under way till we are clear from the guns of the castle."

"Ay, ay, sir, with all my heart," answered the mate. "I'm not quite certain that the brig will get scot-free either."

As he spoke, I saw a thick smoke ascending from the deck of the rover.

"She's on fire! she's on fire!" shouted several of us. But then we thought of poor Stenning, and what would become of him.

"All hands make sail," cried the captain, descending on deck. "We must slip, Mr Carr. There's no time for heaving up the anchor."

The crew could scarcely refrain from giving vent to their feelings of excitement in a shout.

"Silence, my lads; we must not let the Moors know what we are about."

Never did a crew let fall the topsails with greater good-will than we did. We had kept two reefs in them for an emergency. I now saw the wisdom of the captain's forethought when he gave the order, as some time before we had loosed sails.

We were riding with the ship's head towards the mouth of the river, the tide still running in. Thus, being strongly manned with willing hearts, we were soon under way. No one from the shore observed us, or, at all events, came off to stop us. Sidy, the interpreter, was fortunately on shore, so that we had no trouble about him, and the captain knew that he could easily pay him through the consignee of the ship. Captain Gale's intention was, I learned, to run down to the mouth of the harbour, and to anchor if necessary. We got a cable ranged accordingly, with an anchor ready to let go. The brig quickly felt the force of the wind, and, happily canting the right way, and her sails filling, away she flew, heeling over to the gale towards the open sea. The captain, or one of the mates, or Peter, had been constantly sailing about the harbour, as if to amuse themselves, or to catch fish, but in reality to sound the depth of the water, and to make themselves thoroughly acquainted with the harbour. We thus required no pilot to carry us out.

As we rounded the point I have described, the mouth of the river lay before us—a long line of surf, with heavy breakers rolling and roaring in from the sea, apparently barring our exit. Outside of it was the corvette, close-hauled with three reefs in her topsail, standing off-shore, and, as far as we could see, uninjured. But the pirate brig, where was she?

A dark mass of rocks lay at the northern part of the entrance to the harbour. Over them the sea broke furiously; and amid the masses of foam which flew high into the air was the black hull of a vessel, with shattered masts and spars heaving up amid the breakers; while from the centre of it, as if striving with the waves which should most speedily destroy it, bright flames were bursting forth and raging furiously. As we gazed with horror at the dreadful spectacle, feeling our compassion excited rather for our hapless countryman, whom we believed to be on board, than for the ruthless wretches who formed her crew, there was a loud explosion, and fragments of wreck, and what had once been human beings, were thrown up into the air; and by the time they had again fallen into the foaming water, no portion of the rover remained to show where she just had been.

We were now about a quarter of a mile from the bar, and not a moment was to be lost in deciding what was to be done, whether we were to bring-up or to attempt to cross. In the line of breakers which rolled over the bar, a spot was observed where the water was smoother, and which the captain knew to be the deepest channel.

"We may run out there without fear, light as we are; and if we remain, these Mohammedan fanatics will certainly revenge themselves on us for the destruction of their friends," he observed to Mr Carr, who agreed with him that the attempt should be made, though far from free of risk. And most people, indeed, would have agreed that the passage was hazardous in the extreme, but yet no one on board doubted that it was the right thing to do.

The second mate, who was at the helm with another steady hand, was ordered to steer towards the opening. The tide was still running in strong, which gave us greater command over the vessel than would have otherwise been the case. All hands were at their stations, and every one of us knew the position we were in. A shift of wind, the least carelessness, the carrying away a spar or rope, might bring upon us the same fate which had destroyed the rover. Scarcely had the determination I have mentioned been arrived at, when, as I was looking out ahead, I saw on the starboard-bow a spar floating in the water. I looked again; a man was holding on to it, and drifting up towards us. I was certain I saw him lift up his hand and wave it. I immediately reported the circumstance to the captain.

"Although he is probably one of those wretched Moors, he is a fellow-creature, and it is our duty to try and save him," he observed. "About-ship! helm a-lee!" he sung out.

The brig, under her topsails, worked like a top, and we had ample room to put her about and heave her to. Just as we had done so, the spar came drifting up close to us. Again the man clinging to it waved his hand. His unshorn head of light curling hair showed that he was no Moor.

"Here, mates, just pay out this line as I want it!" sung out Peter, passing the bight of a rope under his arms and leaping overboard. "I'll tackle him to, I warrant."

In an instant he was in the water, and a few strokes bringing him up to the spar as it floated by, he grasped hold of the person hanging to it, and then sung out, "Haul away, my lads; it's all right!"

The whole incident took place, it seemed, in a few seconds. Once more he was on the deck, and there could be no doubt of it, with no other than Walter Stenning in his arms! The poor fellow breathed, but the dangers he had gone through, and the sudden restoration to safety, had overcome him, and he lay almost unconscious on the deck.

"Now, sir, the sooner we fill and stand out of this the better," said Peter, turning to the captain, after he had placed Stenning on the deck. "I did not speak of it before, but just now I saw another of those piratical fellows getting under way just from opposite where we lay, doubtless to be after us."

Peter's remark was found to be true; and up the harbour another brig was seen making sail, of course with the hope of overtaking us. I, with another man, received orders to carry Captain Stenning below, which we did, placing him on a mattress on the floor of the cabin, and then hurried up again to attend to our duty.

Once more the brig was put about, and head up towards the passage. On we rushed, the foam flying over us as we approached the spot. She lifted to the first rolling sea, and then down she came, as if she must strike the sand below; but another roller came tumbling in, and mounting like a sea-bird on its summit, she descended on the other side amid clouds of spray, again to mount another huge wave, and then to rush on with impetuous force as she felt the blast which laid her over almost on her beam-ends towards the open ocean. Still, on either hand, wild foaming water broke in mountain masses around us; but on we sped. "Hold on! hold on for your lives!" shouted the captain, as yet another mountain sea came thundering on towards us, close upon a previous one over which we had ridden in safety. The brig seemed to spring at it, as if able to dash it aside; but vain indeed was the attempt. High above us it rose. Right into it we went, and for a moment I thought all was over. Along our decks it found its way, and fell in torrents below, sweeping everything before it; but still buoyantly our brave vessel flew on, and wave after wave being surmounted, a loud shout burst from all hands as once more we found ourselves in the open sea, following in the wake of the British corvette.

As soon as we were in safety, the captain called me below to attend to Captain Stenning. We found him sitting up on the mattress, and, as he held on by the leg of the table, looking somewhat wildly around him.

"Where am I? what is all this that has happened?" he exclaimed, as we appeared.

"That you are safe aboard the Dolphin, my friend, and that you have escaped from the wreck of a Moorish pirate," answered the captain. "But before I answer more questions, we'll just get off your wet clothes, and clap you into bed with a glass of hot grog."

This we accordingly did, and the result was that the poor fellow very soon fell fast asleep—the best thing he could do under the circumstances.

When I went on deck, I found that the Moorish brig which had pursued us, seeing the fate which had befallen her companion, and that we had got safe over the bar, had put about, and stood back again to her anchorage.

"I should have begrudged the rascals our anchor and cable," said Peter. "But as we have got Mr Stenning back safe, they are welcome to them, though I would rather see the honest hemp used to hang some of the knaves."

The gale, which truly seemed to have effected its purpose in the destruction of the miscreant rovers, now began to abate its fury, and before dark we came up with the corvette, which had hove-to in order to speak us. We found that she was His Britannic Majesty's sloop-of-war Syren, of eighteen guns; and the captain directed us to lay by him till the morning, when he would send on board to hear all the particulars of what had occurred.

Meantime I had been sent to sit by Captain Stenning, to be ready to attend to him when he awoke. When he did so, I called Captain Gale to him. The account I then heard of his adventures was very short. We had, indeed, guessed very nearly the truth. The Dolphin had been surprised by the pirates, and while he, with some of his crew, were in vain attempting to defend her deck, he had been struck down. When he returned to consciousness, he found himself on board the pirate, with two or three others, of whom Lyal alone survived. The pirates had been driven from their prey by the appearance of a large ship, which they took to be a man-of-war; and in revenge, he concluded, they murdered all who then remained on board. He and Lyal would have been killed also; but their lives were saved by a Moor, whom he once saved at Gibraltar from ill-treatment by some English seamen, with whom he had quarrelled. Though the Moor had saved his life, he had not interest to do more for him at that time.

When the pirates again fell in with the Dolphin, and were frightened from attacking her by the trick Peter invented, thinking some evil spirits possessed the vessel, they made all sail to return to port. He confessed that he was himself very much astonished, and could in no way account for what he had witnessed. Had he not received the explanation we gave him, he should all his life have believed that the appearance he had beheld was produced by supernatural agency.

When carried into port, he, with Lyal, was sold to the old Moor, as we knew; but his friend had not forgotten him. The rover much wanted a skilful navigator, and thinking that he would prefer a life of comparative freedom at sea to slavery on shore, he repurchased him, and carried him on board the brig. He was rather disappointed, however, to find that, without a quadrant or nautical almanac, the captain could be of very little use to them in that way. He told us, indeed, that the pirates were very nearly killing him for his supposed obstinacy, because he could not tell them one day whereabouts they were, when they put their own rough instruments into his hands. He had great difficulty in explaining that, without his own books and charts, he could be of little help to them. However, they promised to attack an English vessel before long, that they might supply him.

With this object in view, they made sail towards the corvette, which they took for a merchantman, and thus very nearly caught a Tartar. They discovered their mistake only when within six miles or so of her; and by then suddenly altering their course, and standing away from her under all sail, her suspicions were excited, and she made chase after them. In such terror were the pirates, when they found themselves so hard pressed, that they seemed to forget him, or his life would probably have been sacrificed; but as he was left himself, he was allowed to consider the best means of preserving it. When, therefore, he saw that the brig must inevitably strike the rocks, he seized a loose spar on the deck and sprang overboard, trusting that the current would carry him through the breakers into smooth water. He had seen us coming out, and guessing that the brig was an English trader, hoped to be picked up by her. His surprise and pleasure at meeting with Lyal was very great.

"It would have been a great to damper my own satisfaction, if I thought that you had still been left in slavery," he remarked, as he wrung the seaman's hand.

"Well, sir, I can only say that I would go back and be chained up like a dog, as I was before, for the sake of seeing you free, and sent safe home to your wife and family," returned the honest fellow, passing the cuff of his jacket across his eyes, to brush away a tear which his feelings had brought them.

Yes; the rough sailor has got just the same sort of feelings inside his bosom which dwells within the silken vest of any young lady or gentleman who can weep over a novel, or better, sometimes, a deed of heroism; and right honest, genuine feelings, they are too—which is more than can be said for those hackneyed sentiments possessed by people who have lived all their lives in what they choose to call the great world.

Altogether, never was an enterprise more successful than ours had hitherto been. We had not only succeeded in recovering both the survivors of the Dolphin's crew at small cost, but, from the high prices we had obtained for our merchandise, we had paid all the probable expenses of the voyage, and left a handsome profit for our owners.

The next morning we were close up with the corvette, when a lieutenant from her boarded us to learn all the particulars we had to describe. The two masters, with Lyal and I, were then requested by the lieutenant to accompany him aboard the ship-of-war, to give a further account to the captain himself of what had occurred. Captain Hudson received us very kindly; and while our two captains sat down, we stood with our hats in our hands behind their chairs. I remember that he laughed very heartily at my idea of rigging up Lyal as a madman, and at the way he put my advice in practice, by pulling the old Moor's nose.

"Well, gentlemen," said Captain Hudson, "from the account you have given me, I think we have ample grounds to enable the British Government to make a demand on that of Morocco for compensation; so that if you will accompany me to England, I hope to obtain ample satisfaction for you."

Neither Lyal nor I exactly understood what all this meant; but Captain Gale had an inkling that very little satisfaction would result either to him or Captain Stenning.

"Thank you, sir," he answered; "but I can't accept your offer, for my brother-master wants to return to his wife and family, and my owners directed me to make the best of my way back to Halifax."

"Of course these are strong arguments against the execution of my wishes," returned Captain Hudson. "You will, I conclude, therefore proceed on your voyage, and give your evidence when you return to England. But I find, Captain Gale, that you are more strongly manned than is necessary for a merchantman. These two young men will remain on board the Syren, and one of my lieutenants will accompany you to your brig, and select a few more. However, we will not leave you short-handed; but His Majesty's ships must be manned, do you see?"

"It is very hard, sir. All my people are volunteers on what appeared a somewhat hazardous expedition, and are anxious to return to their families," replied Captain Gale. "You will allow me, without offence, to observe, that one of these young men has only just been released from slavery, and that the other is an apprentice."

"The first does not belong to your crew, so it is my duty to take care of him; and if the other is still an apprentice, I cannot keep him, but I shall like to see his papers. Mistakes in these matters sometimes occur. We do everything according to law, do you see, Mr Gale." Captain Hudson spoke very mildly and blandly, but there was something in his eye which showed that he was not to be trifled with.

"You will understand, sir," he continued, turning to Captain Stenning, "I have the power to press you. Under the circumstances of the case, I will not, unless I am forced to do it; but your friend will throw no impediment in the way of my getting any of the hands I may require. I will not detain you, gentlemen, and I wish you a prosperous voyage and a happy termination to your enterprise."

This, then, was the object for which the naval captain wished to communicate with the Dolphin. It was not with the best possible grace that the two masters got up to take their leave; and yet Captain Stenning well knew that he was completely in the power of the commander of the sloop-of-war, and that there was no law to prevent him from being sent to do duty before the mast on board of her.

They both shook hands warmly and kindly with Lyal, and promised to send him a spare chest, with such things as could be collected; for of course he had but a scanty outfit. As they were going, I put out my hand also.

"You'll let me shake hands, sir, won't you?" said I. "There's many a kind act you've done me, Captain Gale, from the time I was a little helpless lad till now; and I thank you from the bottom of my heart, and may Heaven bless you, sir."

"Why, what's all this about?" exclaimed my kind captain, "You have your papers, Jack, and you cannot, as an apprentice, be touched."

"But the papers won't protect me, sir; I am no longer an apprentice," I answered. "Not long ago, I got a mate to look over them for me, and I was, I find, out of my apprenticeship a month ago."

"There is no use giving in without an attempt to escape; I'll see what can be done," he answered. "May I not take this man with me, sir?" he asked, turning to Captain Hudson, who stood on the quarter-deck, and of course had not heard this part of our conversation.

"Send his papers and his chest likewise," was the only answer the captain of the Syren deigned to give.

Before the brig's boat shoved off, I went over the side, and sent many a message to Peter Poplar and the rest of my shipmates. I regretted leaving the brig, but I was more sorry at the thought of parting from Peter than for any other reason.

As I looked at the Dolphin with the eye of that affection which a seaman soon gains for a vessel in which he is tolerably happy, I observed that the man-of-war's boat was already alongside. In a short time she shoved off, and pulled back to the corvette. There were several chests, and five people besides her crew in her. I rubbed my eyes. Could I believe them? Among the people sat Peter Poplar! He sprung up the side, and was soon engaged in shaking hands with several of the Syren's crew.

"What! are you pressed, Peter?" said I to him; and in my heart I could not be very sorry to have him with me.

"Not exactly that either," he answered. "You see, Jack, I found that you were pressed, or would be to a certainty, and I did not like to have one whom I had nursed up almost from a baby on the salt waters, so to speak, altogether out of my sight, though you are big enough now to take care of yourself; so, says I to myself, Well, if they take me, I'll go with a free will—I don't mind. However, when the lieutenant picked out the men he would like to have, and who have no protection, he passed me over, thinking that, on account of my age, he could not touch me. But among the men he chose was poor Bill Jackson, who has a wife and small family at Halifax, and who only came the voyage from his love for Captain Stenning, and was going to give up the sea and live on shore with his wife's relations up the country. I never saw a poor fellow so cut up and broken-hearted when he saw all his hopes blown to the winds, and knew that, for many a long year, he might not see his wife or little ones. He knows well the ups and downs of a sailor's life, and that very likely he might never see them again. I know that I could not stand his grief. Captain Gale did all he could to get the lieutenant to let him off, but nothing would do. The only answer was, 'His Majesty wants seamen, and seamen he must have.'

"'So he shall!' said I, walking up to the officer. 'Now, sir, if you will let that man go, you may have me in his stead; and I'll make bold to say, that there isn't a man aboard this brig but will acknowledge that, blow high or blow low, I'm his equal, either aloft or at the helm, or in handling the lead. What say you, mates? Who'll speak for me? It isn't because I want to boast, you know; but I do want to save poor Bill Jackson from being pressed aboard a man-of-war!'

"'He speaks the truth, that he does!' exclaimed all the crew, who were mustered on deck. 'There are few of us can come up to him.'

"'I tell you, sir,' said Captain Gale, 'I should be very sorry to lose either Jackson or Poplar; but if you ask me which is the best seaman of the two, I am bound to say that Poplar is; and besides, in him you get a willing hand, who loves the sea, which I am sure poor Jackson does not.'

"'Then Poplar let us have, by all means,' answered the lieutenant, telling Jackson that he was free, and ordering us all to be smart in getting our traps ready to take with us.

"The captain, meantime, told me to bring him your papers, which I did, though I well knew that they were no protection to you, and so he discovered, and so I got your chest ready with the rest: and so you see, Jack, you and I are man-of-war's men, and so, lad, let's do our duty like men, and stand up boldly for our king and country."

Peter's hearty way of talking gave me spirits which I should not otherwise have felt. I never had before stood on the deck of a man-of-war, but I had heard a good deal about the cruelty and injustice practised on board them, from some of my shipmates; and I had, with the great mass of merchant-seamen in those days, and for many years afterwards, formed a strong prejudice against them. From the system which was practised in some ships, I naturally, with others, formed an opinion of the whole navy; and when I first found myself a pressed-man on board the Syren, I looked forward to a life of ill-treatment and wretchedness till I could again obtain my freedom. I truly believe, indeed, that had I not had Peter again as my counsellor, I should have yielded to the force of my impression, and have been guilty of the very conduct which would have brought me into trouble. I found a number of pressed-men and discontented men, and not a few bad characters in the ship, who were always ready to grumble at what was done, and whose great aim seemed to be how they could oftenest shirk duty, most speedily get drunk, and most readily break the rules and regulations of the service. At first I was inclined to think them somewhat fine fellows, lads of spirit, whose example was worthy of imitation; but Peter observing my tendency, very soon put their conduct in its true light.

"You see, Jack," said he, "those fellows are, in the first place, acting a sneaking, unfair part, to their shipmates. The duty has to be got through, and so the willing, good men, have to do the work which those knaves neglect. Then they benefit by the laws of the country; and the country would go to ruin if it was without a navy, and the navy could not be kept up without the rules and regulations which they are always trying to break through. As to their drunkenness, it unfits them for duty. No man knows what he may do when he is drunk; and besides making him ill at the time, he who drinks to excess is guilty of suicide, as so doing will most certainly shorten his life. Just think what excuse will a man have to offer when he has thus hurried himself into the presence of his Maker! How awful will be the doom he cannot fail to receive! Then, again, those idle fellows who try to avoid work, are always getting into trouble, for no officer will find any excuse for them, or attempt to shield them; and they thus spend a much longer time than they idle away in the black list, or with the tingling of the cat on their backs. But, Jack, I don't want any of these to be your motives for acting rightly. One motive should be sufficient for us all—and that is, the wish to do our duty to our God."

I repeat here my kind friend's advice, but it was long, very long, before it seemed to sink into the sandy soil of my heart, and to bring forth fruit. I am very glad that the press-gang system no longer exists. No man can any longer be forced to serve on board a man-of-war. The case, such as I have described, may appear hard when the master of a merchantman was deprived of a considerable portion of his crew—hard to him, and hard to the pressed-men, and harder in a pecuniary point of view to the underwriters, the property they had insured being thereby made much more liable to shipwreck; but still it was not one-tenth part as hard as numberless cases which I have known during my career afloat.

Little did I think when, from the mast-head of the Dolphin, I first saw the Syren heave in sight, that before that time on the following day I should form one of her crew. Such is the ever-changing scene of a sailor's life!



CHAPTER THIRTEEN.

JACK A MAN-OF-WAR'S-MAN.

There is a time of life when a person feels that he has left for ever his boyish days and stepped into manhood. I felt that I had passed that boundary when I found myself rated as an able seaman on board the Syren sloop of war. I was now under a far stricter system of discipline than I had been accustomed to. At first I felt it somewhat galling; but I soon saw that without the greatest regularity it would be impossible to keep order among the crew of a ship even of the size of the Syren.

My early days I had spent on board a merchantman, and had met with many adventures somewhat strange and exciting. I did not expect to meet with fewer in my new career, though they would probably be of a different character. The result of my last, in which I had aided in rescuing two of my countrymen from captivity, had proved most satisfactory. Jacob Lyal, one of them, was now with me, and I knew he would speak well of me among my new shipmates. The other, Captain Stenning, late master of the Dolphin, was on board that vessel, and, I hoped, would soon be enabled to rejoin his wife and family in Halifax. Captain Gale, her present master, would also, I knew, speak favourably of me to my first commander in the Rainbow, Captain Helfrich, whenever he should fall in with him. I pity the man who does not desire to be thought well of by those who know him, and who does not feel that he deserves their good wishes. I certainly had not made many friends, but those I had found were true and fast ones; and a great source of satisfaction to me was the having with me Peter Poplar, my first and best friend—that true-hearted seaman who had saved me from starvation—who had tended me as a father in my boyhood and youth—who had given me a profession which would enable me to support myself while health and strength remained—and who had ever endeavoured to instil into me those true principles which would enable me to steer clear of the rocks and quicksands to be found in my course through life.

The wind had fallen and become fair; the helm of the corvette was put down, the sails were trimmed, and, under a crowd of canvas such as few merchantmen can attempt to set, we quickly ran the coast of Africa out of sight—the last we saw of its sandy shores being over our starboard quarter. The commander of the Syren, Captain Hudson, was, I found, very much liked by the crew, as, although he was a strict officer, he was a just one, and known to be a thorough seaman. He was a gentleman also in all respects, a brave man, and kind-hearted; and these are the qualities which sailors with good reason respect. Without possessing them, no man is fit to be placed in command over his fellow-men. My old ship, the Dolphin, continued in our company for several days, during which we made the best of our way to the northward, the wind, though scant, enabling us, close-hauled, to keep a course in that direction. When somewhere about the latitude of Lisbon, a ship hove in eight, standing towards us under all sail. As her courses rose above the water, she was pronounced to be a frigate; and as her hull appeared, such was found to be the case. Then commenced such a hauling up and down of flags as I had never before seen. What it all meant I could not tell, but it seemed to produce a great commotion among the officers; and soon the news ran along the deck that war was declared—war with France. It was the beginning of a long and bloody struggle.

Meantime, we hove-to, as the frigate had done, and Captain Hudson went on board her. When he returned, we found that we were ordered into the British Channel. The frigate, a new ship, just fitted out, with her officers in glittering uniforms, and her white wide-spread of canvas, and her fresh paint, and her brightly burnished sides looked, I thought, the very picture of a gay and gallant craft, as, passing close to us, she glided by through the sparkling sea. I could not help comparing her with the weather-beaten, wall-sided, ill-formed, slow-sailing merchantmen I had been accustomed to see, and I began to feel a pride in belonging to a man-of-war which I had not hitherto experienced.

Before proceeding on our course, Captain Hudson signalled the Dolphin, which had been hove-to, and informed Captain Gale that war had broken out, advising him to make the best of his way to Halifax. It was not till some years afterwards that I heard she reached that place in safety, and that Captain Stenning had had the happiness of being re-united to his wife and family.

No sooner was the news of war received on board the Syren, than everybody seemed to wake up into activity. No one had time for a moment to be idle fore or aft. The armourer's crew were employed in polishing up muskets, and pistols, and sharpening cutlasses. For hours together we were practised at the small-arms and great-guns, which had never before been thought of. The gunners were busy making cartridges; the carpenters, plugs for shot-holes; indeed, we all felt that people should always feel that there was work to do. We had good reason to rejoice before the cruise was up that we had not been idle.

We reached Plymouth without meeting with an enemy or taking a prize. What a state of bustle and excitement the place was in! Carriages-and-four dashing through the streets at all hours of the day; troops marching here and there, with drums and fifes playing—some coming in, others embarking for foreign lands; artisans of all sorts hurrying in, certain to get work at high wages; men-of-war, and merchantmen, and store-ships, and troop-ships sailing in and out every day; boats laden with men and chests pulling across the harbour; seamen crowding every quay; pressgangs at work catching men to fight England's battles; and then such hurrying to and fro, and shrieking of women, and shouting of men, and crying of children, and revelling, and laughter, and scenes of extravagance, and debauchery, and vice I had never before beheld, and did not think could exist in a civilised part of the globe.

Having refitted with as little delay as possible, and again put to sea, we found ourselves off the north coast of Spain, far into the Bay of Biscay. For some time we were employed in looking along the coast of France, and picking up all the small coasters we could lay eyes on. We did a great deal of damage to a number of poor people, and taught them that war was a very disagreeable thing, so that they must heartily have wished it over, or rather, that it never had begun; but I doubt if we did ourselves any good in the way of collecting prize-money; at all events, I know that I never got any. At length, one morning, when we could just make out the French coast like a thin wavy blue line on the horizon, beyond which a rich yellow glow was bursting forth, the forerunner of the glorious sun, a sail was seen, hull down, to the northward, and apparently standing in on a bowline for the land. The ship, as was usual when cruising, had been quietly jogging on under her topsails during the night. "All hands, make sail in chase!" was the cheerful sound which made us spring on deck to our stations; and in a few minutes the corvette, with royals and studding-sails alow and aloft, was kept away after the stranger. The latter, which was pronounced to be a large topsail schooner, was soon seen to bear up, and to set all the canvas she could carry, in an endeavour to escape. The chase was a large and fast vessel of her class, for it was not till some time after breakfast that we could see half-way down her mainsail from the deck. Still, we were gaining on her. She, meantime, was edging away in for the land, so that there was little doubt that she was an enemy's vessel—probably, from the way she made sail, a privateer with a number of hands on board, if not a man-of-war. Hour after hour we continued the chase, till the French coast rose clear and distinct on our starboard-bow.

Jacob Lyal and I were at this time stationed in the foretop, of which Peter Poplar was captain, though he was shortly afterwards made a quarter-master. We thus saw every movement of the chase. She, by degrees, edged away again more to the northward, as if wishing to avoid the coast thereabout. We had begun the chase soon after daylight, and the evening was now drawing on, when, close in with the land, we made out a large ship standing along-shore, the rays of the sinking sun shining brilliantly on her snowy canvas. The schooner hauled up towards her, and then kept away again, as if she did not like her appearance.

"What do you make her out to be?" said I to Peter, pointing to the ship.

"Why, Jack, from the squareness of her yards and the whiteness of her canvas, I should say she is a man-of-war—probably a frigate, and a thundering big frigate, too, if I am not much mistaken."

"I suppose, from the French schooner keeping away from her, she is an English frigate," said I.

"Not so sure of that either, Jack," he answered. "We don't know that the schooner is French, in the first place; and even if she is, she may be mistaken as to the character of the frigate, or she may have altered her course just to deceive us, so as to let the frigate come up with us without our taking alarm about her. Never fancy that you have made a right guess and neglect to take precautions, in case you should be wrong."

"Why, if she is an enemy's frigate, she'll sink us," said Lyal. "We shall have to up stick and run for it!"

"Never do you fear that, lad," answered Peter, somewhat sternly, I thought. "Run?—no! If that is a French frigate it will just give us an opportunity of showing what British pluck can do. Our lads know how to handle their guns and small-arms—thanks to the practice some of the grumblers complained of—and if we don't give a good account of that ship out there, my name is not Peter Poplar."

The spirit with which Peter spoke soon animated both Lyal and me, and when we were relieved from our watch, and repeated his words, they were responded to by all the crew, and their great wish was that the frigate in sight should prove an enemy, that they might show how they would treat her.

What the officers thought about the matter we could not tell, but as it grew dark the chase of the schooner was abandoned, studding-sails were taken in, and the ship was hauled on a wind and stood off-shore. As may be supposed, no one turned in that night; the hammocks remained in the nettings, and the ship was got ready for action.

From the way the frigate was steering at nightfall, there could be little doubt that she was following in our track. Anxiously we looked out for her lights astern. Hour after hour passed away, and no sign of her appeared, and we began to fear that she had missed us altogether.

At last a small glimmer was soon twinkling away in the darkness, and by degrees it grew larger and larger; and then out of the dense obscurity— for no moon nor stars were visible—there glided a dark towering mass, like some phantom giant talking over the deep. The drum beat to quarters, and the crew sprung eagerly to their guns. Every man was stripped to the waist, round which he had fastened a handkerchief, with another round his head, and had his cutlass ready to board or to repel boarders.

In spite of the wish for battle we had all expressed, I could not help feeling a sensation of awe, if not of dread, creep over me, as we stood—thus in silence and darkness at our guns, expecting the attack of an enemy of vastly superior force. The muscular forms of our sturdy crew could just be distinguished grouped round their guns, the pale light of the ship's lanterns falling here and there upon them in fitful flashes, as the officers went their rounds to see that every one was at his station, or as the boys handed up shot and powder from below. We were prepared, I say, but still, I believe, the general impression aft was, that the stranger would prove a friend.

As she drew nearer, the order was given to make the private night-signal. Up went the lanterns to the mast-head. It was a moment of breathless suspense. No answering signal of friendship was made in return. In another instant, however, that unmistakable one of hatred and defiance—a shot—came whistling over our heads. It was replied to by one of our stern-chasers; and we then went about, that we might keep the weather-gauge—a most important point under present circumstances.

The enemy, to avoid being raked, had to do the same. "Give it them now, my lads!" shouted the captain. "Let every shot tell, and show the big one what a little craft can do when her crew have the will to make her speak!" Loud cheers were the reply to the address, and instantly every gun sent forth its flame of fire; and I believe that not a shot failed to take some effect on the hull or rigging of our opponent. Now hotly broadside to broadside, at the distance of half-gun-shot from each other, we stood in towards the land. As fast as they could be run in loaded, our guns discharged their deadly showers. All the time we were edging closer towards each other, and as we got within hail we could see that considerable damage had already been suffered by the frigate. This gave fresh encouragement to us, and we blazed away with more hearty good-will than before. The enemy's shot had, however, been telling not a little on us. Several of our men had lost the number of their mess, and more had been wounded; but no damage of consequence had been received aloft, and any the hull had received had been quickly repaired by our carpenter and his active crew.

Amid the roar of the guns a loud shout burst from our people. I looked up. The frigate's mizzen-topmast had been shot away, and came tumbling down on deck. Our fore-topgallant-topmast, however, soon followed, cut through by a round-shot; but that was of little consequence, as our topsail-yard was uninjured, and the topsail still stood. We were not long in clearing the wreck, but for a moment there was a cessation of firing. Just then a hail came across the dark waters from the Frenchman's deck.

"Do you strike, Sare? Do you strike?" was asked through a speaking-trumpet. Our captain seized his trumpet in return.

"Certainly, monsieur, certainly. We have been and intend to go on striking, just in the way Englishmen have the fashion of doing."

A loud laugh burst from our crew at this answer. It just suited our tastes, and then such a hearty cheer was uttered as could not have failed to convince the Frenchman that our captain was likely to be backed by his people to the utmost. Our guns were not long silent, and once more the darkness of night was illuminated by the bright sheets of flame which burst forth in almost a continuous stream from their mouths.

What a contrast to the previous awful silence was there in the report of the guns, the rattle of musketry, the shouts of the officers, the cheers of the men, the crashing of spars and timber as the shot struck home, and the shrieks, and cries, and groans of the wounded! To these expressions of pain even the bravest cannot help giving way, when wounded where the nerves are most sensitive.

Several times the enemy attempted to close, when her greatly prepondering force of men would have told with fearful effect on our decks; but each time the attempt was made it was dexterously avoided by our captain. We had, however, begun to suffer considerably in spars and rigging, and the number of our killed and wounded was increasing. Our second lieutenant had been severely injured by the fall of the foretop-gallant-mast. A midshipman, a young lad who had just come to sea, was struck down close to me. I lifted him up in my arms for a moment, to get him carried below out of harm's way; but the terrible injury he had received convinced me that no help could avail him. I put my hand on his heart: it had ceased to beat. Yet what voice sounded more full of life and spirit than his as we cheered at the captain's answer to the Frenchman's hail? On the other side of me a fine young fellow fell mortally wounded. He was just my own age, but not, like me, left alone in the world—he had many dear ones in his humble home. He felt that he had not many moments to live, though his mind was as active as ever.

"Williams!" he faintly cried. "Stoop down, lad! Don't let them take me below: I want to die here! And I say—you know my poor mother, and Sally, and George: just tell them that you saw the last of me; that I thought of them, and prayed for them, and that I hope we may meet in that far, far-off port to which we are all bound! I haven't forgot the prayers mother taught me, tell her. It will comfort her to know that! Good-bye, Jack!"

He pressed my hand as he uttered these words, but instantly afterwards his fingers relaxed. His spirit had fled, and I returned to my duty at my gun!

There were not many seamen, unhappily, in those days, like poor James Martin. Another shipmate was killed not far from me, and he died uttering fearful curses on our enemies, utterly ignorant of the future world into which he was entering.

Thus we fought on. Although we were severely punishing our big opponent, we could not feel that we were getting the best of the fight.

"Do you think we shall take her?" said I to Peter, during another short cessation of firing.

"I scarcely expect that," he answered. "But I am pretty certain that he won't take us. See, hurrah! He's been hit again pretty hard!"

As he spoke, the frigate's mizzen-mast, which must have been before badly wounded, went by the board, and at the same time her main-yard came down by the run on deck, no doubt doing further damage by the fall.

To show the enemy that our spirits were as high as ever, we cheered again; but, as if in retaliation, several shots, in quick succession, struck our foretopmast, and it, and the yard, and all our headsail, came thundering down on deck, in a confused mass of wreck, disabling several of our people, and rendering our foremost gun useless for a time. I was thankful that I had been stationed at a gun instead of being aloft. Some of the officers hurried forward to get the wreck cleared away, while others encouraged the men to persevere in the strife—not that any encouragement was necessary, for we were all eager to continue it, still hoping to make prize of our antagonist.

What had become of the schooner meantime we could not tell. We could only suppose that she was an unarmed vessel. Had she been armed, she might have proved a very disagreeable addition to the force with which we had to contend.

While we were clearing the wreck of the foretopmast, another broadside was poured into us, which we returned with our after-guns. It appeared to me, as I looked up again at her after loading, that the frigate was increasing her distance from us. There could be no mistake about it. Her helm had been put up, and she was running off before the wind. Didn't we cheer heartily! but then we remembered that, deprived of our headsail, we could not follow—so we cheered again, and sent a few shots flying after her, like a dog's farewell bark, just to show her that we claimed the victory, and would be ready for her if she chose to come back; and then we set to work with a will to repair damages.

Our couple of hours' night work had produced not a few, and sadly changed the appearance of our trim little sloop. Still, as our foremast was standing, we were able to make headsail on the ship, and we hoped by the following morning to get matters sufficiently to rights to be able to renew the engagement should our opponent again venture to attack us. I, in common with many of the younger men, was very much disappointed at not having captured the frigate; but Peter and others who had fought in the last war, told us that we were very fortunate in not having ourselves been obliged to strike, as our opponent could not have mounted less than six-and-thirty, if not forty guns—more than twice as many as we carried. Notwithstanding this, we only hoped to see her again in the morning; and as soon as daylight appeared several eager pairs of eyes were aloft looking out for her. There, hull down to the northward, appeared a sail, which was most probably our opponent; but she was running directly before the wind.

At first we supposed that our captain would follow her; but though as brave a man as need be, as he had proved himself, he saw that the probability of capturing the frigate was too small to justify him in making the attempt—in doing which he was much more likely to lose his own ship. Shattered, indeed, did we look when the sun shone down on our blood-stained decks; and still more sad were the scenes which the wounded and dying presented below. I will not, however, now dwell on them. Several shot had gone through the ship's sides, some between wind and water; but the holes had been quickly plugged by the carpenter's crew. Altogether, so shattered was the sloop, that, unwilling as our captain was to give up the cruise, he had no resource but to make the best of his way to Plymouth. We arrived there ten days after the engagement; but the pumps had to be kept going all the time, and the ship was ordered into dock to undergo a thorough repair.

It is impossible for me to describe all the scenes of which I was witness during that interesting period of England's naval history; but there was one I must not omit, as it shows what presence of mind and courage can do, in rescuing people even from the greatest difficulties.

At that time the French revolutionary party, so well named Red Republicans, were inflicting, with unsparing barbarity, the most dreadful atrocities on any of their unhappy countrymen who were even suspected of entertaining monarchical principles. The inhabitants of Toulon, as well as of several other places, were known to be favourable to the cause of their sovereign; and to afford them support, Lord Hood— then commander-in-chief in the Mediterranean—landed a body of English and Spanish troops, and took possession of the town and forts while his own fleet, with one sent by Spain to join him, entered the harbour.

At this time a number of supernumeraries, of whom I was one, sailed from Plymouth to join various ships in the Mediterranean, and, in course of time, I found myself on board the Juno, a fine 32-gun frigate, commanded by Captain Samuel Hood. We sailed from Malta early in the year 1794, with some officers and a few troops, to reinforce the scanty garrison at Toulon, then besieged, as was reported, by a formidable army of the Republicans, amounting to thirty-three thousand men, under Generals Kellerman and Carteaux.

The Juno was just the sort of dashing frigate a young fellow of spirit would wish to belong to, and her Captain was just the man he would wish to serve under. Strict discipline was kept up on board, and all hands were made to know their duty, and to do it. Her officers, too, were as smart a set as ever stepped. I was very fortunate in this, because for the first time since I came to sea I was among strangers, with the exception of Jacob Lyal, who had joined her with me. Peter Poplar was far away in another ship, and I own I missed him sorely. Still. I had learned my duty, and I hoped to continue to do it.

We had a quick passage from Malta, and made the French coast just before nightfall. We had carried on all sail, in the hope of getting in while daylight lasted, as the captain was anxious to deliver his despatches and land his passengers, and be out again in search of any stray cruisers of the enemy. The wind, however, fell so light that we were unable to do as he hoped. But he was not a man to be turned from his purpose. Accordingly, rather than lose a day, he stood boldly in for the harbour-mouth, which is not a difficult one to make. We expected that a pilot would have come out to us, but none appeared; and as no signal was made for one, it was then known that the captain intended to find his way in in the dark.

Trusty men were placed in the chains with the lead; all hands were at their stations; those with the sharpest eyes were placed as look-outs; the captain stood, trumpet in hand, on the quarter-deck, ready to issue his orders. Not a word was spoken fore or aft. The wind was light, and nearly abeam. Thus, with a dead silence reigning on board, the gallant frigate entered the harbour of Toulon. The officers, with their night-glasses in hand, were anxiously looking out for the British fleet, that they might ascertain where the frigate was to bring-up. In vain they swept them round in every direction; no fleet was to be seen. The circumstance was reported to the captain.

"The easterly winds we have had have sent a heavy sea rolling in here. They must have run into the inner harbour to avoid it. We must follow them there," was his answer. "Shorten sail! Let the ship stand in under her topsails."

The courses were accordingly brailed up, and the top-gallant-sails furled, and under easy sail we stood up the inner harbour. Still nothing could we see of the fleet—not a light did any of the ships show.

On we glided through the calm water. "A brig ahead, sir!" shouted the third lieutenant from forward.

"Shall we weather her?" asked the captain.

The answer was in the negative. "Set the foresail and spanker! Ready, about-ship!"

Scarcely had the boatswain's shrill pipe uttered the appropriate call, than the sails were let fall and sheeted home; and as soon as the frigate felt the effect they produced, the helm was put a-lee, and she went about close under the stern of the brig, which lay in her course. A loud hail came from the brig, but I for one could not make out what was said.

"That's not an English brig," observed one of the officers near me. She lay off what is called the Grand Tour Point.

"He is inquiring our name," said another officer.

"His Britannic Majesty's frigate Juno," shouted the first lieutenant.

"Wah—wah—wah!" or sounds something like that, came from the brig. Some one also shouted, "Viva!"

"Whereabouts is the English fleet?" asked the captain. "Have they sailed? Is the admiral still here?"

"Wah—wah—wah!" was the only answer we got. The questions were repeated in French.

"Yes—yes; oui—oui; wah—wah—wah!" was again the reply.

"That's a French merchant-brig. They cannot make out what we say. The fleet must have gone over to the other side of the harbour."

Directly afterwards, the words, "Luff—luff!" reached our ears.

"They are afraid we shall be ashore, sir," said the first lieutenant.

"Then down with the helm!" shouted the captain. The order was promptly obeyed, and the frigate came up almost head to wind; but scarcely a minute had passed when we felt that she had run stem on to the ground; but so light was the wind, and so slight was the way on her, that no damage of any sort was done.

Of course the order was immediately given to clew-up and hand the sails; and in another minute or so the Juno lay with all sails furled right up in the centre of the harbour of Toulon, with a line of heavy batteries between her and the sea. While we were handing sails, a boat was seen to put off from the brig; but instead of coming aboard us, she pulled away rapidly in the direction of the town.

Before, however, we were even off the yards, a flaw of wind took the ship's head, and happily drove it off the bank, when the anchor was let go, and she lay with her head up the harbour. Still, however, she hung on the bank by the stern, while her rudder remained immovable and useless. Seeing this, the captain ordered a kedge to be carried out to warp her off; which, as she hung very lightly, could easily be done. To perform this operation the launch was lowered; but being a heavy boat, it took some time to get her into the water. Warps and the kedge-anchor were then placed in her, and her crew pulled away with the kedge in the proper direction to haul her off. While we were thus engaged, a boat was seen coming down the harbour.

"What boat's that?" hailed the sentry from forward.

"Ay, ay," was the answer.

"Officers coming alongside!" cried the sentry—such being the answer given by naval officers when hailed by a ship-of-war. A captain repeats the name of his ship.

The gangway was manned to receive the visitors. Every one was puzzled to know the meaning of a visit at so unusual an hour, and anxious to know what it meant. A well-manned boat came alongside, and two French officers, with several other people, scrambled up on deck.

"Be smart, then, my lads, with the kedge," sung out Mr Webley, third lieutenant, from forward. "We must get the ship afloat before the wind drives her further on."

The French officers looked about the decks for an instant, and then, followed by their people, went aft to the captain, who was standing on the quarter-deck ready to receive them.

"Monsieur le Capitaine," said one of them, taking off his hat and bowing politely, "I am sent by the chief of the port to compliment you on the way you have brought your ship into this loyal port, but to express regret that the regulations he has been compelled to issue make it necessary for you to go over to the southern side of the harbour, there to perform a quarantine for a short ten days or so, as you come from Alexandria, an infected place."

"But we don't come from Alexandria; we come from Malta, which is not an infected place," answered the captain.

"Then, monsieur, Malta is an infected place," returned the officer, quickly.

"I cannot understand that," answered Captain Hood. "I have to deliver my despatches, and some supernumeraries for the army here, and then to be away again as fast as possible. I beg, gentlemen, you will inform me where the Victory, Lord Hood's ship, is. I must be guided by his orders."

"Certainly, monsieur, certainly," said the Frenchman, bowing with a bland smile. "We will pilot you to him."

I remember thinking, as the Frenchmen walked along the deck, that there was a good deal of swagger in their manner, but I only set it down to Gallic impudence. While this conversation was going on, one of our midshipmen, a smart youngster—Mowbray, I think, was his name—had been inquisitively examining the Frenchmen, and he now hurried up to the captain, and drew him aside.

"Just look, sir—those are Republican cockades!" he whispered. "As the light of a lantern fell on their hats, I observed it. There's some trick put upon us."

"In truth you are right, my lad, I greatly fear," answered the captain, in an agitated voice. "Where do you say Lord Hood is?" he asked, turning abruptly to the Frenchman.

"My Lord Hood! He is not here. He has long ago departed. We have no lords here," answered the French officer in a sneering tone. "You have made a great mistake, and are like a rat in a hole. The truth is, Monsieur le Capitaine, you and your ship's company are prisoners! But make yourself easy—the English are good people—we will treat them kindly."

"Prisoners!" exclaimed Captain Hood and the officers standing near, in tones of dismay. "Prisoners! impossible!" But the assertion was too true.

Lord Hood had been compelled to evacuate Toulon some time before, with all the forces under his command, after blowing up, by the aid of Sir Sidney Smith, several of the forts, and destroying or carrying away every ship in the harbour; while the unfortunate inhabitants were exposed to all the cruelties which their sanguinary opponents could inflict on them.

As may be supposed, the Republican Frenchmen exulted in the idea of having so easily captured an English frigate, and a large number of Englishmen on whom they might retaliate for some of the losses their party had sustained. As ill news travels quickly, so in an instant the words in everybody's mouth were, "We are prisoners! we are prisoners!" Some would scarcely believe it, and the officers and many of the men hurried aft in a body to ascertain the fact. Mr Webley had remained forward, and before we had been able to haul on the warp she had laid out, he promptly recalled the launch, and ordered the people out of her up the side. The boatswain was standing near him.

"See," he exclaimed, "there's a flaw of wind just come down the harbour. If it holds, the Frenchmen, even should this report be true, need not be quite so sure as they think that they have caught us."

Saying this, he hurried aft to the captain, while the boatswain, not to lose time, made all the necessary preparations for making sail and cutting the cable.

"I believe, sir, that we shall be able to fetch out, if we can get her under sail," said the lieutenant in the captain's ear. The words made him start, and restored vigour to his heart.

"Thank you, Webley, thank you," exclaimed the captain, when the third lieutenant told him that the wind had come ahead. "We'll make the attempt, and may Heaven prosper it!"

Without a moment's delay, the first lieutenant issued the order to make sail, while Mr Webley hurried forward to see the cable cut, as she tended the right way. Like larks we sprang aloft to loose the topsails, and all was done so silently and so rapidly, that the Frenchmen could not make out what was occurring.

"Gentlemen," said the captain, politely addressing the officers, "I must trouble you to step below. We have duty in this ship to carry on which will not require your presence."

"But," exclaimed the Frenchmen, uttering all the oaths in their ample vocabulary, "you are our prisoners. We do not choose to obey your orders."

"You mistake; you are ours! Englishmen do not yield unless to greatly superior force," exclaimed our captain. "Gentlemen, you must go below."

The Frenchmen laughed scornfully. "Treason! mutiny!" they exclaimed, drawing their sabres, and attempting to make a rush to the gangway; but as they turned, they found themselves confronted by a file of marines, with fixed bayonets presented at them!

Rage, and fury, and disappointed revenge were in the tones of their voices, as they gave vent to their feelings in oaths and execrations while they were being handed below. Not a man of their boat's crew escaped, for all had come on board to witness the capture, as they supposed, of a British frigate.

During this time the topsails had been let fall, and in less than three minutes were sheeted home. The headsails filled. At the very moment they did so, a stronger puff of wind came right down the harbour. "Cut, cut!" was the word. Round swung her head towards the open sea. Almost with a bound it seemed her stern lifted off the ground. "Hurrah! hurrah! We are free! we are free!" was the joyful cry. Now, come shot or shell, or whatever our foemen choose to send. We have our brave ship under command, and if our stout sticks do but stand, we may yet escape the trap into which we have so unwarily fallen.

Such were the sentiments which were felt, if not expressed, by all on board the frigate. Plenty of sharp eyes were on shore, watching through the gloom of night, as far as they were able, the movements of the English frigate, expecting to see her every moment glide up the harbour, where, of course, troops had been rapidly collected to take possession of the prize, and conduct us within the precincts of a French prison.

The Republicans must soon have discovered that their plan to capture us had not been altogether successful. As we sailed down the harbour, instead of up, as they had expected, lights began to gleam from the various strong forts which lined each side of the harbour below us, and also from the deck of our friend the brig, off Great Tower Point. Then, as we glided on, every moment gathering fresh way, from all directions a hot fire was opened on us. As with the light wind there was blowing it was necessary to be rid of every obstruction, both our barge and the Frenchmen's boat were cut adrift, though we would gladly have prevented even them from falling into their hands.

There was now no longer any necessity for concealment. The drums beat to quarters, the guns were cast loose, and as we passed down the harbour we began to return the compliments our enemies were so liberally bestowing on us. We had our guns ready in time to give our friend the brig a good dose, but what mischief we inflicted we could not tell; and, to do her justice, she was not slack in her attempts to cripple us. Thus in an instant the harbour, so lately sleeping in silence, and, as it were, shrouded in the solemn gloom of night, was rudely awaked and lighted up with the roar and bright flashes of a hundred guns, which, fast as they could be discharged, sent forth a continuous fire at our seemingly devoted ship. Thus far all had proceeded well; but we were far from free of danger. Shot after shot struck us, several times we were hulled, but not a man had yet been hit, when, to our dismay, the wind grew very scant, and seemed about to head us.

"If it shifts a couple of points more to the southward, we shall have to beat out of this place!" exclaimed the captain of the gun at which I was stationed. "Never mind, lads; we'll teach these Frenchmen what a British frigate can do in spite of all that."

Still the Juno steadily held on her course. The wind backed once more and came down the harbour, and on she glided. The enemy's guns were, however, telling on us with fearful effect—our topsails were riddled with shot, and our rigging much cut up; but as the damage occurred, our active crew flew here and there to repair it, as well as time and the darkness would allow. Now the harbour opened out broadly before us, and the line of open sea could be perceived ahead. Our masts and spars stood unharmed, the firing from the forts grew fainter and fainter. Scarcely a shot reached us. On we stood. The shot began to drop astern. For several minutes not one had struck us. The Frenchmen tried in their rage, but all in vain.

"We are free! we are free indeed! Hurrah! hurrah! hurrah!" burst with one voice from all our crew, and the gallant Juno bounded forward on the wide ocean, to show what British daring, judgment, and promptitude will effect, even although the most fearful odds are ranged against success.

I trust that some on board that ship felt also that a merciful Providence had preserved us from a galling and painful lot, which would have endured for many a long year, to do our duty to Heaven and our country. I trust that the example set by the crew of the Juno will serve as an example to all British seamen—never to yield while there is a possibility of escape.