Under Wellington's Command Part 13

"I would give something for a big gla.s.s of hot punch," Ryan said, as he munched a piece of biscuit.

"Yes, it would not be bad," Terence agreed; "but I would rather have a big bowl of hot coffee."

"I have changed my opinion of a seafaring life," Ryan said, after a pause. "It seemed delightful the morning we started, but it has its drawbacks; and to be at sea in an open boat, during a strong gale in the Bay of Biscay, is distinctly an unpleasant position."

"I fancy it is our own fault, d.i.c.ky. If we had known how to manage the boat, I have no doubt that we should have been able to get to sh.o.r.e. When the wind first began to freshen, we ought not to have waited so long as we did, before we made for shelter."

"Well, we shall know better next time, Terence. I think that, now that it is light, we had better get some sleep, by turns. Do you lie down for four hours, and then I will take a turn."

"All right! But be sure you wake me up, and mind you don't go to sleep; for if you did we might get broadside on to these waves, and I have no doubt they would roll us over and over. So mind, if before the four hours are up you feel you cannot keep your eyes open, wake me at once. Half an hour will do wonders for me, and I shall be perfectly ready to take the oar again."

Chapter 7: A French Privateer.

Terence went off into a deep sleep as soon as he had pulled the sail over his head, but it seemed to him as if but a minute had elapsed when his companion began to stir him up with his foot.

"What is it?" he asked.

"I am awfully sorry to wake you," Ryan shouted, "but you have had two hours of it, and I really cannot keep my eyes open any longer. I have felt myself going off, two or three times."

"You don't mean to say that I have been asleep for two hours?"

"You have, and a few minutes over. I looked at my watch as you lay down."

"All right! Give me the oar. I say, it is blowing hard!"

"I should think it is. It seems to me it is getting up, rather than going down."

"Well, we are all right so far," Terence said cheerfully, for he was now wide awake again. "Besides, we are getting quite skilful mariners. You had better spend a few minutes at baling before you lie down, for the water is a good three inches over the boards."

All day the storm continued and, when darkness began to close in, it seemed to them that it was blowing harder than ever. Each had had two spells of sleep, and they agreed that they could now keep awake throughout the night. It was bad enough having no one to speak to all day, but at night they felt that companions.h.i.+p was absolutely needed. During the day they had lashed together the spars, sail, and the barrel of water--which was now nearly half empty--so that if the boat should be swamped, they could cling to this support.

It was a terrible night but, towards morning, both were of opinion that the gale was somewhat abating. About eight o'clock there were breaks in the clouds and, by noon, the sun was s.h.i.+ning brightly. The wind was still blowing strong, but nothing to what it had been the evening before and, by nightfall, the sea was beginning to go down. The waves were as high as before, but were no longer broken and crested with heads of foam and, at ten o'clock, they felt that they could both safely lie down till morning.

The steering oar was lashed in its position, the sail spread over the whole of the stern of the boat, every drop of water was baled out and, lying down side by side, they were soon fast asleep. When they woke the sun was high, the wind had dropped to a gentle breeze, and the boat was rising and falling gently on the smooth rollers.

"Hurrah!" Ryan shouted, as he stood up and looked round. "It is all over. I vote, Terence, that we both strip and take a swim, then spread out our clothes to dry, after which we will breakfast comfortably and then get up sail."

"That is a very good programme, d.i.c.ky; we will carry it out, at once."

While they were eating their meal, Ryan asked:

"Where do you suppose we are, Terence?"

"Beyond the fact that we are right out in the Bay of Biscay, I have not the most remote idea. By the way the water went past us, I should say that we had been going at pretty nearly the same rate as we did when we were sailing; say, four miles an hour. We have been running for forty-eight hours, so that we must have got nearly two hundred miles from Santander. The question is: would it be best to make for England, now, or for Portugal? We have been going nearly northwest, so I should think that we are pretty nearly north of Finisterre, which may lie a hundred and twenty miles from us; and I suppose we are two or three times as much as that from England. The wind is pretty nearly due east again now, so we can point her head either way. We must be nearly in the s.h.i.+p course, and are likely to be picked up, long before we make land. Which do you vote for?"

"I vote for the nearest. We may get another storm, and one of them is quite enough. At any rate, Spain will be the shortest, by a great deal and, if we are picked up, it is just as likely to be by a French privateer as by an English vessel."

"I am quite of your opinion, and am anxious to be back again, as soon as I can. If we got to England and reported ourselves, we might be sent to the depot and not get out again, for months; so here goes for the south."

The sail was hoisted, and the boat sped merrily along. In a couple of hours their clothes were dry.

"I think we had better put ourselves on short rations," Terence said. "We may be farther off than we calculate upon and, at any rate, we had better hold on to the mouth of the Tagus, if we can; there are sure to be some British officials there, and we shall be able to get money, and rejoin our regiment without loss of time; while we might have all sort of trouble with the Spaniards, were we to land at Corunna or Vigo."

No sail appeared in sight during the day.

"I should think we cannot have come as far west as we calculated," Terence said, "or we ought to have seen vessels in the distance; however, we will keep due south. It will be better to strike the coast of Spain, and have to run along the sh.o.r.e round Cape Finisterre, than to risk missing land altogether."

That night they kept regular watches. The wind was very light now, and they were not going more than two knots an hour through the water. Ryan was steering when morning broke.

"Wake up, Terence!" he exclaimed suddenly, "here is a s.h.i.+p within a mile or so of us. As she is a lugger, I am afraid she is a French privateer."

Terence sprang to his feet. The light was still faint, but he felt sure that his companion was right, and that the vessel was a French privateer.

"We have put our foot in it now, and no mistake," Ryan said. "It is another French prison and, this time, without a friendly soldier to help us to get out."

"It looks like it, d.i.c.ky. In another hour it will be broad daylight, and they cannot help seeing us. Still, there is a hope for us. We must give out that we are Spanish fishermen, who have been blown off the coast. It is not likely they have anyone on board that speaks Spanish, and our Portuguese will sound all right in their ears; so very likely, after overhauling us, they will let us go on our way. At any rate, it is of no use trying to escape; we will hold on our course for another few minutes, and then head suddenly towards her, as if we had only just seen her. I will hail her in Portuguese, and they are sure to tell us to come on board; and then I will try to make them understand by signs, and by using a few French words, that we have been blown out to sea by the gale, and want to know the course for Santander. As the French have been there for some time, it would be natural enough for us to have picked up a little of their language."

In a few minutes they altered their course and sailed towards the lugger, which also soon turned towards them. When they approached within the vessel's length, Terence stood up, and shouted in Portuguese:

"What is the bearing of Santander?"

The reply was in French, "Come alongside!" given with a gesture of the arm explaining the words. They let the sail run down as they came alongside. Terence climbed up, by the channels, to the deck.

"Espagnol," he said to the captain, who was standing close to him as he jumped down on to the deck; "Espagnoles, Capitaine; Poisson, Santander; grand tempete," and he motioned with his arms to signify that they had been blown offsh.o.r.e at Santander. Then he pointed in several directions towards the south, and looked interrogatively.

"They are Spanish fishermen who have been blown off the coast," the captain said to another officer. "They have been lucky in living it out. Well, we are short of hands, having so many away in prizes; and the boat will be useful, in place of the one we had smashed up in the gale. Let a couple of men throw the nets and things overboard, and then run her up to the davits."

Then he said to Terence: "Prisoners! Go forward and make yourself useful;" and he pointed towards the forecastle.

Terence gave a yell of despair, threw his hat down on the deck and, in a volley of Portuguese, begged the captain to let them go. The latter, however, only waved his hand angrily; and two sailors, coming up, seized Terence by the arms and dragged him forward. Ryan was called upon deck, and also ordered forward. He too remonstrated, but was cut short by a threatening gesture from the captain.

For a time they preserved an appearance of deep dejection, Terence tugging his hair as if in utter despair, till Ryan whispered:

"For heaven's sake, Terence, don't go on like that, or I shall break out in a shout of laughter."

"It is monstrous, it is inhuman!" Terence exclaimed, in Portuguese. "Thus to seize harmless fishermen, who have so narrowly escaped drowning; the sea is less cruel than these men. They have taken our boat, too, our dear good boat. What will our mothers think, when we do not return? That we have been swallowed up by the sea. How they will watch for us, but in vain!"

Fortunately for the success of their story, the lugger hailed from a northern French port and, as not one on board understood either Spanish or Portuguese, they had no idea that the latter was the language in which the prisoners were speaking. After an hour of pretended despair, both rose from the deck on which they had been sitting and, on an order being given to trim the sails, went to the ropes and aided the privateersmen to haul at them and, before the end of the day, were doing duty as regular members of the crew.

"They are active young fellows," the captain said to his first mate, as he watched the supposed Spaniards making themselves useful. "It was lucky for them that they had a fair store of provisions and water in their boat. We are very short handed, and they will be useful. I would have let them go if it had not been for the boat but, as we have only one left that can swim, it was too lucky a find to give up."

The craft had been heading north when Ryan had first seen her, and she held that course all day. Terence gathered from the talk of the sailors that they were bound for Brest, to which port she belonged. The Frenchmen were congratulating themselves that their cruise was so nearly over, and that it had been so successful a one. From time to time a sailor was sent up into the cross trees, and scanned the horizon to the north and west. In the afternoon he reported that he could make out the upper sails of a large s.h.i.+p going south. The captain went up to look at her.

"I think she is an English s.h.i.+p of war," he said, when he descended to the deck, "but she is a long way off. With this light wind we could run away from her. She will not trouble herself about us. She would know well enough that she could not get within ten miles of us, before it got dark."