True Blue Part 6

"What is it, Pringle?" asked the old man.

"Why, sir, please you, I be come about the business of the s.h.i.+p's child, sir, Billy True Blue," began Paul. "We hear as how we are to get alongside an enemy and to take her, and we've been thinking how we are to get little Billy safe aboard if the _Terrible_, bless her old ribs!

was for to take it into her head to go down; and we thinks as how if he was to have a bodyguard, whose business was to keep round him and look after him, seeing as how Sam Smatch can't do that same by himself, that it would be the best thing for the youngster we can arrange."

Much more to the same effect Paul explained; and the Captain finally promised that if there was a chance of getting alongside an enemy, he would appoint some men to the duty.

"And what is more, I will place the party under command of Mr Garland,"

said the Captain. "Billy is such a pet with him, that I am sure he will do his best to defend him."

"That I know he will, sir!" exclaimed Paul. "That will just do, sir.

None on 'em will fight the worse for knowing how kind you've been to us--that they won't;" and honest Paul sc.r.a.ped his way out of the cabin.

The enemy, however, showed no inclination to give them the chance they wished for. Although Admiral Graves kept his fleet sailing up and down in front of them, they continued to leeward, without any attempt to approach. The Count de Gra.s.se was more intent on carrying out his immediate object of effecting the safe debarkation of the troops than in sustaining the honour of his nation. He was a wise man, for by risking an action he might have been defeated and lost the attainment of both objects.

In spite of the battered condition of the _Terrible_, she maintained her position in the line; but she was only kept afloat by the most strenuous and unremitting exertions of her brave crew. Another night and day pa.s.sed, and each hour the difficulty of keeping her afloat became more apparent. Her masts and spars, too, were much wounded, and it became a question how she would be able to weather even a moderate gale. Still the s.h.i.+p's company worked on cheerfully, in hopes that they might have the chance of gaining a s.h.i.+p for themselves. At length the wind fell very light, and the Admiral, ordering the fleet to lay to, sent an officer on board each s.h.i.+p which had been engaged, to inquire into her condition and the state of the wounded. It was a trying time when the Captain of the flags.h.i.+p himself came on board the _Terrible_. Half the men were lying about between the guns, overcome with fatigue, while the remainder were working away at the pumps in a way which showed that they knew their lives depended on their exertions. He examined the s.h.i.+p below, and when he went on deck he cast his eye on the masts and spars.

He then took Captain Penrose aside, and, after talking with him, went back to the flags.h.i.+p. He soon returned, and a few more words pa.s.sed between him and the Captain.

Captain Penrose then appeared on the quarterdeck with a sorrowful countenance.

"Gentlemen," said he with a voice almost choked with emotion, turning to his officers, "and you, my gallant fellows, who have served with me so long and so faithfully, I have sad news to tell you. It is the opinion of those competent to judge, that we cannot hope to keep the old s.h.i.+p afloat much longer. If we could put her on sh.o.r.e, we might save her to carry us yet longer through the 'battle and the breeze;' but we have only a hostile sh.o.r.e under our lee, with an enemy's fleet in sight, far superior to ours, and which has lately been reinforced by five s.h.i.+ps-of-the-line; and therefore, my friends, it has been decided that we must abandon and destroy her."

The old man could scarcely speak for some minutes, while a general groan ran through the s.h.i.+p's company. Paul Pringle turned his eyes towards the distant fleet of the enemy, and thought, "But why can't we get alongside some of them Monsieurs and take a s.h.i.+p for ourselves? We'd do it--we knows we could, if the Captain would give the word."

The men were mistaken; but the expressions to which they gave vent showed the spirit which animated them.

"Now, my lads," continued the Captain, "the boats of the squadron will soon be alongside. Each man will have ready his bag and hammock; the officers their clothes, nautical instruments, and desks. One thing I promise you,--and that's a satisfaction to all, I know, boys, as it is to me,--that, come what may, our stout old s.h.i.+p, which has carried us so long through the tempest and the fight, will never fall into the hands of our enemies."

The last remark was received with a loud shout, which seemed, as it was intended to do, to relieve the spirits of the men.

"Well, lads," the Captain went on, "I wish that I had nothing more painful to say; but another bad part of the business is, that I must be separated from the larger number of you who have served with me so bravely and faithfully. I am appointed to the _Fame_, whose Captain has been badly wounded, and will go home; and I may take with me one hundred and ten men--the rest will be distributed among the s.h.i.+ps of the fleet short of their complement. The first lieutenant will call over the names of those selected to go with me; but, lads,--my dear lads, who are to be parted from me,--don't suppose that I would not gladly have you also--ay, every one of you; and wherever you go, you will, I am sure, prove a credit to the s.h.i.+p you have served in, and the Captain you have served under."

The Captain could not go on, and many a rough seaman pa.s.sed the collar of his jacket across his eyes; and then, led by Tom Snell, they gave three thundering cheers for the Captain and officers of the dear old s.h.i.+p they were going to leave for ever.

In a short time the boats of the squadron came alongside. The intermediate period had been spent in getting their bags and bedding ready, and now all stood prepared for the word to step into the boats.

Of course the Captain had chosen Paul Pringle; so he had Abel Bush, and Peter Ogle, and Tom Snell, and the other a.s.sistant-guardians of little Billy, while Sergeant Bolton with some of his marines were drafted into his new s.h.i.+p, and Sam Smatch was thrown in to the bargain.

Captain Penrose had chosen Natty Garland to be among the officers to accompany him. He had called him up before the s.h.i.+p was abandoned.

"Most of your messmates and friends are appointed to other s.h.i.+ps, Garland," he said; "I can probably get you a berth on board nearly any you may like to name, or, if you like to follow your old Captain's fortunes, I will take you with me."

"Oh, sir, I will go with you without a moment's doubt!" answered the young mids.h.i.+pman warmly. "I am sure, wherever you are, I shall find the right sort of work to be done."

"I trust you may, my lad," answered the old man, smiling and putting out his hand. From that time he became a greater friend than ever of the brave boy.

The _Fame_ now bore down to receive her new Captain and the addition to her s.h.i.+p's company. Three of the _Terrible's_ officers accompanied their Captain; the rest were distributed among the vacancies in the fleet. There floated the old _Terrible_, with her well-riddled and torn sails furled, but her pendant, and ensign, and Union-Jack still flying at her peak and mastheads. She was deserted. The lieutenants, with the master-at-arms and the quartermasters, had gone round her decks to a.s.sure themselves that no human being remained in her. The shot, too, had been withdrawn from all the guns; and such things belonging to her as could be more easily removed had been carried away. Now the four lieutenants in as many boats returned. Accompanied by picked men, they went to different parts of the s.h.i.+p. As they walked along her silent decks, the groans and sighs which rose from below made their hearts feel sad. They descended to different parts of the hold, and, each collecting such combustible materials as they could find, set fire to them and hastily retreated. Once more they returned to the boats and pulled away for the _Fame_. Night was coming rapidly on. Scarcely had they reached the deck of the _Fame_ before flames burst forth from every part of the _Terrible_, Brighter and fiercer they grew. Now they found their way through the hatchways and climbed up the masts and rigging; they twisted and turned along the bowsprit and out to the taffrail.

Still by their glare could be seen the victorious flag of England waving proudly in the breeze.

Now, fore and aft, the old _Terrible_ was one ma.s.s of flame,--a huge pyramid of fire,--which shed a lurid glare on the clouds above, on the surrounding water, and on the white sails and dark hulls of the s.h.i.+ps.

Suddenly there was a concussion which shook the very atmosphere, and made the s.h.i.+ps roll and s.h.i.+ver as if struck with an ague. Now up in one ma.s.s of fire rose the upper deck, and masts, and spars, high into the air, where for an instant they hung suspended, and then, bursting into millions of burning fragments, down they came, scattered far and wide, hissing into the ocean. Here and there, for a few minutes, some s.h.i.+ning flames could be seen scattered about; but they quickly disappeared, the hull itself sank, and now but a very few charred fragments remained of the fine old _Terrible_. A groan burst from the bosoms of the gallant tars who had lately manned her, joined in equally by her Captain; and Billy True Blue, breaking into a flood of tears, was carried still inconsolable to his hammock.

CHAPTER SEVEN.

Sir George Rodney remained, from ill health, for some time in England, and the British squadrons on the West India and American stations were engaged chiefly during that time in guarding the Island of Jamaica from the contemplated attacks of the French. Captain Penrose soon taught his new s.h.i.+p's company to love and trust him as much as the old one had done. The _Fame_ was constantly and actively engaged, and he took good care, as usual, that the weeds should not grow under her bottom.

Billy True Blue was all this time rapidly growing in size and strength, and in knowledge of affairs in general.

Time pa.s.sed on. Sir George Rodney returned from England and took command of the West India fleet. The French still intended to take Jamaica, but had not, and he resolved, if some thousand brave British sailors in stout s.h.i.+ps could prevent them, that they should not. With this object in view, he a.s.sembled all his s.h.i.+ps at the Island of Saint Lucia, where, having provisioned and watered them, he lay ready to attack the Count de Gra.s.se as soon as he, with his fleet, should venture forth from Fort Royal Bay, where they had been refitting.

Paul Pringle and his s.h.i.+pmates were as eager as ever for the battle.

"I do wish little True Blue was big enough to join in the fight--that I do, even if it were only as a powder-monkey. He'd take to it so kindly--that he would, I know," said Peter Ogle to Paul.

"I've no doubt about that, Peter," answered his s.h.i.+pmate. "But we'll wait a bit. He'll be big enough by and by, and we mustn't let him run any risk yet. We'll send him down below, as we used to do in the old _Terrible_, with Sam Smatch. Sam will have more difficulty in keeping him quiet than he had then."

"But I wonder when we shall get at these Frenchmen?" said Abel Bush.

"They seem to me just as slippery as eels. When you think you've got them, there they are gliding past your nose, and safe and sound at anchor under their batteries, or in some snug harbour where you can't get at them. Well, Paul, night and morning, I do thank heaven that I wasn't born a Frenchman--that I do."

"Right, Abel; so do I," said Paul. "Ah, here comes little True Blue.

Now, I'll warrant, about the whole French fleet they haven't got such a youngster as he is--no, nor nothing like him."

"Like him! I should think not!" cried Peter Ogle in a tone of voice which showed that the very supposition made him indignant. "No more like him than a frog is like an albatross. No, no; search the world round, I don't care in what country, ash.o.r.e or afloat, black, or brown, or white, you won't find such another little chap for his age as Billy True Blue."

The child, as he walked along the deck with a slight roll, which he had learned as soon as he put his feet to the planks, seemed well deserving of the eulogium pa.s.sed on him. He was a n.o.ble child, with a broad chest and shoulders, a fair complexion, though somewhat bronzed already, and a large, laughing blue eye, with a good honest, wide mouth, and teeth which showed that he could give a good account of the beef and biscuit which he put into it.

"Sam says I no big enough to fight de French," said Billy, pouting his lips, as he came up to his old friends, followed closely by the black.

"I put match to gun--fire--bang. Why no I fight?"

"Huzza, Billy!" cried Peter Ogle. "That's the spirit. You'd stand to your gun as well as the best of us, I know you would. But we can't let you just yet, boy. Make haste and grow big, and then if there are any Frenchmen left to fight, with any s.h.i.+ps to fight in, you shall fight them, boy."

This promise did not seem at all to satisfy Billy. He evidently understood that the s.h.i.+p was likely to go into action; and though it was a long time since he had been sent into the hold with Sam, he had a dim recollection of the horrors of the place, and fancied that he would much rather be with his friends on deck. Of course Sam was ordered to take charge of the little boy, as before.

The British had not long to wait for the expected meeting with the enemy. At daylight on the 8th of April 1782, the _Andromache_ frigate, commanded by Captain Byron, appeared off Gros Islet Bay, with the signal flying that the enemy's fleet, with a large convoy, was coming out of Fort Royal Bay and standing to the north-west. Instantly Sir George Rodney made the signal to weigh, and by noon the whole fleet was clear of the bay. The Admiral stretched over to Fort Royal, but finding none of the French s.h.i.+ps there, or at Saint Pierre's, he made the signal for a general chase. Night came on, but still a sharp lookout was kept ahead.

Paul Pringle and Abel Bush walked the forecastle, where the second lieutenant of the s.h.i.+p was stationed with his night-gla.s.s. The _Fame_ was one of the leading s.h.i.+ps. It was the middle watch. Paul put his hand on Abel's shoulder. "Look out now there, mate; what do you see now?"

"Ten, fifteen, twenty lights at least. Huzza! That's the enemy's fleet. We shall be up to them in the morning."

The lieutenant was of the same opinion, and went to make his report to the Captain. The men now cl.u.s.tered thickly on the forecastle to watch the Jack o' Lantern-looking lights, which they hoped proceeded from the s.h.i.+ps with which they expected in the morning to contend. As the mists of night cleared away on the morning of the 9th, the French were discovered in the pa.s.sage between Dominique and Guadaloupe. A signal was seen flying, too, at the masthead of Sir George Rodney's s.h.i.+p, to prepare for battle and to form the line. The French convoy was made out under Dominique, but the s.h.i.+ps of war appeared forming their line to windward and standing over to Guadaloupe.

Unfortunately, however, the British fleet got becalmed for some time under the high lands of Dominique, and unable to get into their stations. The instant, however, that the welcome breeze at length reached the van division under Sir Samuel Hood, he stood in in gallant style and closed with the enemy's centre. By noon the action had commenced in earnest, and was maintained by this division alone for upwards of an hour without any support from the rest of the squadron, the gallant _Barfleur_ being for most of the time hotly engaged with three s.h.i.+ps firing their broadsides at her. At length the leading s.h.i.+ps of the centre got the breeze, and were able to come to the support of the van. Many of the French s.h.i.+ps even fought well and gallantly, but, in spite of their superiority in numbers, were very roughly handled. In consequence of this, when the Count de Gra.s.se saw the rear of the British fleet coming fast up, having the weather-gage, he hauled his wind and withdrew out of shot. Two of the French s.h.i.+ps were, however, so much cut up in hull and rigging that they were compelled to leave the fleet and put into Guadaloupe.

Nothing could exceed the disappointment and rage of the British seamen at this proceeding. They had made sure of victory, and now to have the enemy run away and leave them in the lurch was provoking beyond all bearing.

Several British s.h.i.+ps had suffered--the _Royal_ and the _Montague_, and the _Alfred_ especially, Captain Bayne, who commanded her, being killed.

Still the crews entreated that they might not be sent into port, and, with the true spirit of British seamen, undertook to repair damages at sea, in which request they were seconded by their officers. For two days they were at work without cessation, making sail, however, whenever they could, and beating to windward in the direction the French fleet had gone.

The enemy were carrying all the sail they could press on their s.h.i.+ps; and by the evening of the 10th they had weathered the Saintes, a group of rocks and islets between Dominique and Guadaloupe, and were nearly hull down.