THE CHAMPION STEERS AFTER THE MERCHANTMEN — THE
MERCHANTMEN SIGHTED —
SHOTS HEARD — TWO VESSELS SEEN ENGAGED — THE
CHAMPION RUNS ALONGSIDE THE
OUZEL GALLEY — HER CREW DRIVES BACK THE PIRATES — SHE
GOES IN CHASE OF THE
PIRATE — NORMAN AND GERALD LEFT ON BOARD
THE OUZEL GALLEY — DAMAGES
REPAIRED — PROCEED ON TO JAMAICA — TWO
FRESH FOES SIGHTED — THE CHAMPION
ENGAGES THEM — THE THISBE AND DRUID APPEAR — THE
ENEMY FLIES — THE CONVOY
ENTERS PORT ROYAL HARBOUR — GERALD RETURNS
ON BOARD THE CHAMPION — HIS
ANNOUNCEMENT DISAPPOINTS CROWHURST — LIEUTENANT
FOLEY AT EAST MOUNT —
ELLEN AND HER FATHER GO TO BELLEVUE.
The Champion, under all sail,
ran on to overtake the convoy and announce the satisfactory
intelligence that the enemy, severely shattered, had
been beaten off. A look-out was kept from the
mast-head, but as yet no sail were in sight, and as
the sun was sinking low, there was no hope of coming
up with them before dark. Still, it was possible
that the corvette might do so before the next morning.
By that time they would be approaching the Bahama
or Windward Channel, a short way to the southward
of Saint Salvador, as the Spaniards called it, or Cat
Island, as it was named by the English buccaneers — the
first land belonging to America discovered by Columbus
on his voyage in search of the Indies.
“They are not likely to attempt
running through the passage without waiting for our
convoy,” observed the first lieutenant to Norman
Foley. “Besides the French, the Bahamas
still swarm with picarooning rascals, who are ever
on the look-out for merchant craft, and would not scruple
to lay aboard any they fancy they can overcome.”
“Even the most daring would
scarcely venture, I hope, to attack a fleet among
which are so many armed vessels, well able either to
defend themselves or to retaliate on an intruder,”
answered Lieutenant Foley, whose thoughts immediately
flew to the Ouzel Galley.
“They would run the chance of
getting off scot free in the confusion their sudden
appearance would make,” said Mr Tarwig.
“There is no exploit, however hazardous, they
would not undertake with the chance of obtaining a
good booty. I took part in the capture of several
notorious pirates a few years ago. One fellow
blew up his ship rather than surrender, and all died
hardened villains, as they had lived.”
“The greater need for us to
overtake our friends without delay,” answered
the second lieutenant, who shortly afterwards went
forward to take a look through his night-glass, in
the hope of distinguishing some of the lights which
the merchant vessels had been directed to hang over
the sterns. In vain, however, he swept the horizon
with his telescope; had the lights been there, he
must have seen them. The commander was almost
as anxious as the second lieutenant to overtake the
fleet of merchantmen, though he was influenced simply
by the desire to do his duty. The watch below
had turned in, but most of the officers kept the deck;
even old Crowhurst was continually on the forecastle
in the hope of seeing the looked-for lights.
“I fancied that they would have
shortened sail and waited for our coming,” said
Gerald. “What can have induced them to
run on?”
“The fear that the Frenchmen
would thrash us and overtake them,” answered
old Beater; “they judge of us by themselves.”
“There are as brave fellows
in the merchant service as in the Royal Navy,”
said Gerald, who was piqued at the old mate’s
remark. “When I was on board the Ouzel
Galley, we held out as long as any ship of war
of similar force would have done. Depend on it,
had the merchant vessels been allowed, they would
have come to our assistance if we had wanted them.”
“A pretty pass we should have
come to, to require their aid,” exclaimed Crowhurst,
in a scornful tone.
“We may require it some day,
and you’d be the first to shout for help,”
answered Gerald. “I took a fancy to the
navy, but I’m not going to stand by and hear
the merchant service abused.”
“Cock-a-doodle-doo! What
dunghill have you got to the top of, youngster?”
cried the old mate.
“One from which I can crow as
loud as you do,” said Gerald — at which
a chuckle was heard from several of the men standing
within earshot. Crowhurst’s anger was rising;
he was considering what punishment he should inflict
on the audacious youngster, when the cry was heard
of “A light ahead!” and presently afterwards
several others were seen. There could be little
doubt, from their position, that they were shown by
merchant vessels, though the darkness prevented the
vessels themselves from being distinguished.
A sharp look-out was kept that the corvette might
not run foul of any stragglers who were neglecting
to show their lights. Presently the sound of
a shot was heard, followed by several others coming
up faintly against the wind.
“Those sounds come from the
north-west,” observed the master.
“One of the merchantmen on shore,
I fear,” said the commander.
“Those guns we hear are nearer
to us than any land. The leading vessels are
not up to Atwood Quay yet,” answered the master.
“Depend on it, some of the convoy are attacked
and are defending themselves.”
“Let us hope that they may do
so successfully till we can get up to assist them,
and turn the tables on the Frenchmen,” answered
the commander.
“Little doubt about our doing
that,” said the master. “Judging
by the reports, the enemy’s ship is not a heavy
one — a brig or sloop at the most — or
she may be one of those picarooning craft often found
cruising in these seas.”
The last remark was heard by Norman
Foley, who had just then joined the speakers.
An indefinite apprehension seized him that the Ouzel
Galley might be the vessel engaged, but from what
Ellen had told him he felt sure that Captain Massey,
if attacked, would not yield as long as he could keep
his ship afloat. The breeze, which had fallen
light at sundown, now freshened up, and the corvette
made good way through the water. At length the
rearmost merchantman was overtaken. Commander
Olding hailed, and her master, in reply, gave her name.
“What do those guns mean?” asked Captain
Olding.
“Can’t say, sir,” was the answer.
“Whereabouts in the fleet is the Ouzel Galley?”
inquired Norman Foley.
“She was among the leading vessels
at sundown, and to the northward of most of them,”
answered the master. Before any other questions
could be put or replies received, the Champion
glided by the slow-sailing merchant ship. Several
other vessels were passed, generally too far off for
any exchange of words. Now even the flashes of
the guns could be seen, and the exact position of
the combatants observed. They were but a short
distance from each other, one to the northward, hanging
on the quarter of the other. The drum beat to
quarters, and the watch below came tumbling up on
deck, hurrying to the guns. It was impossible
in the darkness to distinguish the nationality of
the two vessels, which appeared to be about the same
size. Captain Olding, addressing the crew, ordered
them on no account to fire, lest they might injure
a friend instead of a foe. As the Champion
stood on, he kept a sharp watch through his telescope
on the combatants, neither of which seemed aware of
his approach. Presently the sternmost was seen
to put down her helm and lay the other aboard on the
lee side.
“The sternmost fellow is an
enemy, we may depend on that,” observed the
captain; “we can’t use our guns without
the risk of injuring our friends.”
As the Champion drew near,
loud shouts and cries could be heard, and the flashes
of muskets and pistols seen. It was evident that
a fierce combat was taking place; the boarders were
called away ready for action.
“Shorten sail!” shouted
the captain, “see the grappling-irons ready!
up with the helm!”
The next instant the two ships came
in contact. Norman Foley and Gerald were the
first to spring on board; the dreadful idea had taken
hold of both of them that the vessel attacked was
the Ouzel Galley. Of this, the moment
they reached her deck, they were convinced when they
caught sight of Owen Massey’s figure, cutlass
in hand, backed by Dan and Pompey, combating with
an overwhelming number of enemies, who appeared already
to have gained possession of the greater part of the
ship. Among those who formed the boarding-party
was Dillon, who showed as much alacrity as any one.
He was soon in the midst of the fight, attacking
the boarders of the other ship with desperate fury.
The leader of the latter was dressed in a fantastic
manner, to give ferocity to his appearance.
He was soon crossing blades with Dillon.
“These fellows are pirates!”
shouted Captain Olding. “Cut them down;
give them no quarter — a reward for the man
who gets hold of their leader!”
Dillon and his antagonist had made
several cuts at each other, which had been parried
with equal skill by both, when the pirate, hearing
what Captain Olding shouted out, sprang back apparently
to regain his own ship. Dillon, instead of attempting
to stop him, warded off a blow aimed at him by another
man, and thus enabled the pirate, with a considerable
number of his followers, to leap on board his own vessel.
The lashings which held her to the Ouzel Galley
were at the same moment cut, and before the British
seamen could follow she dropped from alongside.
Her helm was then put up, and her head-sails filling,
she ran off before the wind.
Gerald grasped Owen’s hand.
“Faith, you’ve had a narrow escape!”
he exclaimed.
“Indeed, we have,” answered
Owen; “and, I fear, have lost a large number
of our crew. Had you not come up, we should every
one of us been killed.”
“Where are Miss Ferris and her
father?” asked Norman Foley, turning round to
Owen, whom he now recognised.
“They are safe, I trust, below,
and will be glad to see you and hear that they have
no longer cause for apprehension,” answered Owen.
“I have too many duties on deck to go.”
The lieutenant sprang below, just
at the moment that Captain Olding ordered the crew
of the corvette to return on board and the grappling-irons
to be cast loose.
“We must chase the pirate and
punish him for his audacity,” he exclaimed.
It was some time, however, before
the order could be obeyed and the corvette got clear
of the merchantman. Gerald had remained on board.
“I ought to tell Mr Foley, or he will be left
with you,” he said; and he followed his lieutenant
below. Before he returned on deck the ships
were clear, and the corvette was making sail to go
in chase of the pirate.
Owen had persuaded Mr Ferris and Ellen
to go into the hold, to which they had been hurried
when the first shot had been fired by the pirate.
Owen had for some time before been suspicious of the
strange sail, which he saw standing up on his starboard
quarter, and, thinking that she was very probably
an enemy’s privateer, was not taken altogether
unprepared. He had ordered his powder and shot
to be brought on deck, and the guns to be loaded and
run out ready for action; when, therefore, a shot from
the stranger came flying close to his stern, he fired
in return, and at the same time making all sail, endeavoured
to keep ahead of her. She now fired shot after
shot from her foremost guns, and he had no longer
any doubt that she was an enemy which had borne down
on the fleet, hoping to pick up one or two of the
merchant vessels and be off with them before morning.
“The fellow has made a mistake
in attacking us,” observed Owen to his first
mate. “His greediness tempted him to attack
a big ship — he might have succeeded had
he run alongside some of the brigs astern.”
Pompey, who had accompanied Mr Ferris
and his daughter below, returned to report that he
had seen them safe in the hold. “De gentlemen
want to come back and fight, but de young lady no
let him — she cry so, and hold his hand,
and say he get kill; so at last he sit down and stay
quiet,” remarked Pompey.
“I am very glad to hear it,”
observed Owen; “he could be of no use in working
the guns, and it would be a sad thing to have him injured.”
These remarks were made in the intervals
of firing. The enemy, however, did not leave
them long at rest; their shot soon began to tell with
fearful effect; several of the crew fell killed or
wounded, and the sails and rigging were much cut about.
Still Owen’s men were staunch, and stood manfully
to their guns, running them in and out so rapidly,
and pointing them so well, that they inflicted as much
damage as they received; and by the way he manoeuvred
his ship he kept the stranger at a distance, and prevented
her from running up alongside, which it was evidently
her intention to do. She, however, it appeared,
by possessing a numerous crew, had an immense advantage
in being able to repair her damages far more rapidly
than could the people of the Ouzel Galley those
their ship received. At length, however, the
rigging of his ship was so much cut up that Owen could
no longer manoeuvre her as he had done, and the pirate,
taking advantage of his condition, ran alongside him.
“The enemy are about to board
us!” cried Owen; “be ready to repel him —
they’ll give no quarter!”
The crew, leaving their guns, seized
the boarding pikes which had been placed round the
mainmast for their use, and, drawing their cutlasses,
stood prepared to defend their ship against the fearful
odds opposed to them. So occupied had been the
combatants that neither of them had perceived the
approach of another ship. Uttering wild shouts
and shrieks, a number of dark forms were seen scrambling
on board the Ouzel Galley. The moment
they appeared they were attacked vigorously by her
crew, led on by Owen and his mates, and many were hurled
into the sea or driven back on board their own ship.
His success encouraged him to attempt cutting his
ship free from the enemy, but while he and his men
were thus engaged, a loud voice from the deck of his
opponent was heard shouting, “At them again,
lads! We mustn’t be beaten in this way.
I’ll lead you; follow me!” and the next
moment, another party of boarders appearing, the crew
of the Ouzel Galley were compelled again to
stand on the defensive. And now, in overwhelming
numbers, the enemy came leaping down on the deck,
and Owen, with anguish, saw that his chance of opposing
them successfully was small indeed. Still, like
a brave man, he determined to fight till the last,
urging his mates and crow not to yield as long as
one remained alive. At this juncture a loud crashing
sound was heard, and a large ship was seen gliding
up on his larboard side. The hearty British
cheer which greeted his ears assured him that succour
had arrived, and the next instant the crew of the Champion
came pouring on board. The subsequent events
have already been narrated.
Norman Foley, on going below, soon
made his way into the after hold, where he found Miss
Ferris and her father. The crashing of the ships
together, the shouts and shrieks of the combatants,
had greatly alarmed them both. Mr Ferris had
been desirous of going on deck to ascertain the state
of affairs, and, indeed, had it not been for his daughter,
he would have taken a part in the fight. He
had done his utmost to calm her terror, but believed
that she had too much cause for it, and had found
it a difficult task. On hearing Norman Foley
approach, she was seized with a not unnatural dread
that some of the enemy had made their way below; but
on recognising him, forgetting in her joy the reserve
she generally exhibited, she sprang forward and threw
herself into his arms.
“We are safe — we are
safe, father!” she exclaimed; “and you,
Norman, have been the means of preserving us.
Oh, how we have been longing for you! We thought
you were far away, and that that fearful ship would
capture us.”
Norman, of course, expressed his happiness
at having arrived in time to save the Ouzel Galley
from the enemy, and in a few words explained what
had happened.
“You may now with safety come
into the cabin,” he said, “for the pirate — such
I suspect she is — will not again venture
to fire. I must there, however, leave you, to
return to the Champion, as we shall certainly
pursue the fellow and punish him for his audacity.”
“We shall be glad to get out
of this dark place,” said Mr Ferris. “Do
you help my daughter, and I will follow.”
Just as Norman and Ellen were about
to enter the cabin, Gerald appeared to summon him
on board the Champion. After a hasty farewell,
he sprang on deck, just in time to see his ship separated
from the Ouzel Galley and making sail in chase
of the pirate. Not, however, unhappy at the
occurrence, he returned to the cabin.
“I am very glad we shall have
your assistance in getting the ship to rights,”
said Mr Ferris, “for I fear she is sadly short-handed.”
“Tracy and I will give all the
aid we can. I wish we had a few of the Champion’s
hands with us,” answered the lieutenant.
“Tell me what to do and I will
assist you,” said Mr Ferris.
“Oh, then I too will come on
deck — though I am afraid I cannot help you
much,” exclaimed Ellen.
Her father would not have prevented
her, but Norman begged that he would be content to
remain below.
“I regret to say that the deck
of the ship presents a scene too dreadful for Miss
Ferris to contemplate; and the rigging has been so
much cut about that there is still danger from falling
blocks or ropes — you might at any moment
meet with a serious accident.”
Ellen was at length persuaded to retire
to her cabin, Norman promising not to leave the ship
without coming to bid her farewell. The deck
of the Ouzel Galley did indeed present a fearful
scene. Several of the pirates lay dead between
the guns, while five of her own crew had been killed,
and many more badly wounded; every plank was slippery
with gore, the rigging hung in festoons, the sails
were rent and full of holes. Here and there the
bulwarks appeared shattered by the shot, which had
also damaged the boats and caboose, the masts and spars.
As now and then other vessels of the
fleet came passing by, inquiries were made as to what
had occurred. “Attacked by a pirate — beaten
off — Champion gone in chase,”
was the only answer Owen had time to give.
“No thanks to those who, by
clapping on more sail, might have come to our aid,
but did not,” he could not help remarking to
Mr Ferris.
The first thing to be done was to
attend to the wounded, who were carried to their berths,
where Mr Ferris offered to assist in binding up their
hurts and watching them; the next was to heave the
dead overboard. This sad office was quickly
performed, as there was no time for even the pretence
of a service; the dead would not be the worse for
going without it, and the attention of the living was
too much occupied to listen to a word spoken.
Before committing the bodies of the pirates to the
deep, however, they were examined by the light of a
lantern, to be sure that no spark of life existed
in them, and to ascertain to what country they belonged.
Two were men of colour, and the others white men,
rough, savage-looking fellows; but it was difficult
to decide as to their nationality.
“It matters little what they
were,” said the second mate, who was attending
to that duty; “they were pirates, and have escaped
the rope they deserved — of that there’s
no doubt. Heave them overboard.”
Not a moment was to be lost in repairing
damages. All hands now set to work to fish the
masts and spars, and repair and splice the standing
and running rigging. Scarcely had they commenced
than day broke, and as the light increased the Champion
could be seen in chase of their late opponent, who
was running under all sail to the north-west.
“That fellow is well acquainted
with these seas, or he wouldn’t be steering
as he now is. Reefs and rocks abound in that
direction, but he knows his way among them, and intends,
if he can, to lead his pursuer into a scrape,”
observed Owen.
“Our master is too wide awake
to be so caught,” answered Gerald, “and
the chances are that the pirate escapes. She
must be a fast craft; for see, she continues well
ahead of our ship, if she isn’t gaining on her.”
A look-out was now kept for the two
islands which are found on either side of the Windward
Passage — that known as Long Island being
to the west, Crooked Island to the east, both thickly
surrounded with rocks and reefs, so that it is necessary
to avoid hugging the shores of either one or the other.
Crooked Island was first sighted, on the larboard
hand. It being some time, however, before the
Ouzel Galley could again make sail, the greater
part of the fleet passed by her, though no one offered
to send assistance. The Champion could
still be seen, hull down, but the chase was lost sight
of. Norman Foley and Gerald were frequently
watching their ship through the glass.
“The fellow has escaped, after
all,” cried the former, as he handed the telescope
to Gerald; “our ship has kept away, and is steering
for the passage.”
“Can the commander suppose that
we were killed, that he doesn’t come back to
inquire for us?” observe Gerald.
“I conclude that such must be
the case,” said the lieutenant.
“Then, sir, I suspect old Crowhurst
will be bitterly disappointed when he finds that he
isn’t to step into your shoes,” said Gerald;
“he’ll complain that he has lost another
chance of getting promoted.”
“I hope that he may obtain his
promotion some other way,” answered Mr Foley,
laughing. “It is so commonly the wish of
old mates, that lieutenants should not find fault
with them, as they don’t wish us any ill.”
“I should think, sir, that that
was the worst they could wish a man,” said Gerald.
“Not at all, provided they don’t
take any steps to carry out their wishes,” answered
the lieutenant. “However, your messmate
will not long be allowed to indulge in his dream.”
The Ouzel Galley was now one
of the last of the fleet, most of the other vessels
having passed her. The corvette was seen making
signals to them to keep together; and now that they
were so near their destination, they were all eager
to hurry on, in spite of the risk of capture from
any of the enemy’s men-of-war or privateers which
might be lying in wait for them off the coasts of
Cuba and Saint Domingo. Mr Foley had fully expected
that by this time the Thisbe and Druid
would have come up with them, but neither of the frigates
had yet appeared. He took many an anxious glance
astern; but the day drew on, and yet they were not
in sight.
“I wish we could see them,”
he observed to Owen; “for, though the Champion
will give a good account of any ship of her own size,
if more than one of the enemy’s cruisers were
to get in among the fleet, some of them would be pretty
sure to be carried off, as all, I fear, would not
fight as well as you have done, Captain Massey.”
“We must run the chance, sir;
it won’t do to be waiting for the frigates,
and we may hope to get into Port Royal without another
brush,” answered Owen.
By crowding on all the sail she could
carry, the Ouzel Galley soon got again into
the body of the fleet, which was now steering south
in pretty compact order. When the next morning
broke, the east end of Cuba was in sight, while the
Champion was a short distance ahead, leading
the fleet. A bright look-out was kept, but no
strangers were seen. Some hours’ run brought
the north-west end of Hispaniola in view. Ellen
came on deck to enjoy her first sight of West Indian
scenery. Lieutenant Foley was, as may be supposed,
very happy in her society, and was in no hurry to
make known his existence to his friends on board the
Champion. He had as yet had no opportunity
of signalling the corvette; he therefore entertained
the hope that he might be able to remain on board
till their arrival at Port Royal.
The fleet was about half-way across
the broad bay of Gonaves, formed by two headlands
which stretch out on the western side of Hispaniola,
when two sail were seen standing out from the north-eastern
corner. They were large ships, but whether friends
or foes it was difficult to determine. Soon
after they were discovered they spread more canvas.
This circumstance was suspicious; signals were made
by the Champion and some of the nearer ships,
and she hauling her wind stood back towards the strangers.
They, however, pressed on as before. Mr Foley
and Gerald were now wishing that they were on board.
“If those are either French
or Spaniards, the Champion will have a brush
with them, sir; big as they are, she’ll beat
them off too,” exclaimed Gerald. “I
wish we could go and help her. What do you say,
Captain Massey?”
“That, with our diminished crew,
we could be of no real assistance; besides which,
it is our duty to get into harbour as quickly as possible,”
answered Owen. “I am sure Lieutenant Foley
will agree with me.”
“There is no doubt about it,”
said the lieutenant, who would have been very unwilling,
on Ellen’s account, to run the ship into danger,
even had he not seen the folly of so doing.
The Champion having placed herself between
the strangers and the fleet, again kept away.
She apparently was satisfied that they were enemies,
and too large to attack with any hope of success.
“Captain Olding is doing his
duty, as he always does,” observed Norman Foley
to Owen; “in spite of the great disparity of
force, he will do his best to defend the convoy.
See, he is signalling; what does he say, captain?”
Owen examined the signal-book. “`Fleet
to make all sail and steer for Jamaica’ — that
is what we are doing, though, and few of the vessels
can carry more canvas than at present,” he answered.
Some, however, were seen setting royals
and studding-sails. Every ship in the fleet
pressed forward over the calm blue waters with all
the sail she could carry. The sight was a beautiful
one, as the canvas shone in the rays of the bright
sun darting from a cloudless sky and Ellen likened
them to swans of snowy plumage gliding over some inland
lake. She felt less anxiety than did either Mr
Foley or Owen, who saw more clearly the danger to
which the Champion was exposed. Already
the guns of the enemy were heard as they opened on
their small antagonist, while she returned them with
her stern-chasers.
“By the way the enemy are firing,
their aim is to wing the Champion, and she’ll
then, they hope, become an easy prey,” said the
lieutenant to Owen. “They may be mistaken.
Captain Olding is not the man to strike while he
has a stick standing.”
Some time more passed by. The
French gunnery may not have been very good.
Still the Champion sailed on, not a mast nor
a spar knocked away, though her canvas was riddled
with shot. Should she be disabled, it was pretty
evident that several of the merchantmen must be captured,
and that the Ouzel Galley, crippled as she was,
would be among the number. The proceedings of
the Champion and the enemy were therefore watched
with intense anxiety.
“There goes her main-topmast,”
cried Owen, almost with a groan.
“I ought to be on board,”
said Lieutenant Foley. “I must ask for
one of your boats, Captain Massey.”
“You should be welcome, but
not one of them can swim, nor could I spare you any
of my hands; so I am afraid, sir, you must be content
to remain on board the Ouzel Galley,”
answered Owen. “Your presence could not
change the fate of the day, and you would be made a
prisoner by the French, instead of having a chance
of escaping.”
The fire of the enemy now became hotter
than ever, when Gerald, who had gone aloft, shouted,
“Two ships in sight to the northward!”
“What are they like?” asked Owen.
“One looks to me as if one were
under jury-masts; the other’s all ataunto,”
answered Gerald.
“I trust so,” ejaculated
Owen; “if so, they must be the Thisbe
and Druid.”
Lieutenant Foley immediately joined
the midshipman at the mast-head, carrying his spy-glass.
“I have no doubt that they are friends,”
he shouted, after inspecting them narrowly; “the
enemy have made them out, and are signalling each
other.”
The eyes of many on board the merchant
fleet were turned in the direction of the two ships,
which in a short time could be descried from the deck.
Shouts arose from many a throat when the Frenchmen
were seen, having hauled to the wind, standing back
up the bay; while the gallant little Champion
continued her course after the convoy she had so bravely
defended. The frigates, instead of following
her, stood into the bay in pursuit of the Frenchmen.
At nightfall, however, they were again descried running
out, having apparently either missed the vessels they
were in chase of, or found that the latter had got
into harbour for shelter. The convoy now stood
on till the end of Jamaica was rounded.
The following day, as soon as the
sea breeze set in, the merchantmen approached Port
Royal harbour, the Ouzel Galley being among
the leading vessels. Ellen stood on the deck
admiring the magnificent and, to her, so novel scenery,
with Norman by her side to point out its varied features.
Stretching away east and west appeared lofty blue
mountains rising above a stratum of clouds which rolled
along their precipitous sides; in some directions
the rugged hills were seen furrowed by ravines, while
in others steep cliffs descended abruptly to the sea;
in many places appeared the richest vegetation, covering
the sides of the slopes, and here and there patches
of bright emerald green, with the white residences
of the managers just visible amid them. At length,
right ahead could be seen the town of Port Royal, at
the end of a narrow spit of land known as the Palisades,
composed of sand and overgrown with mangroves,
which sweeps round from the east and runs for several
miles directly west, the town being at the western
end. The new town has risen above the ruins
of its wealthy, iniquitous predecessor, suddenly overwhelmed
by an earthquake, and in a few seconds sunk many fathoms
deep beneath the ocean. The spit forms a natural
breakwater to the magnificent harbour of Port Royal,
or Kingston, capable of containing in its spacious
basin the fleets of all the world. The batteries
of Port Royal completely command its entrance, aided
by the guns of Fort Augusta and the Rock Fort on the
opposite side. The Ouzel Galley, as she
ran in, passed close under the ramparts of Fort Charles,
thickly studded with heavy ordnance which would have
effectually prevented the entrance of a hostile fleet.
This passed, she stood on up the extensive lagoon,
towards the further end of which, on the northern
shore, could be seen the city of Kingston, a wide plain
extending for a considerable distance inland, backed
by a series of irregular mountains rising one beyond
another, hills piled upon hills of various elevations,
with picturesque valleys, dark chasms, and numerous
trees. Far off, on the top of the declivity
on which the city stands, were visible the barracks
of Hope Park Camp, and nearer, on a still more conspicuous
spot, the well-known Admiral’s Pen, the residence
of the naval commander-in-chief on the station.
The Ouzel Galley and most of
the merchantmen ran up the lagoon till they came to
an anchor off Kingston. As the Champion
had not yet entered the harbour, Lieutenant Foley
undertook to escort Mr and Miss Ferris on shore, intending
as soon as he had done so to engage a shore boat and
return on board his own ship. Gerald begged to
be allowed to remain on board, and his lieutenant
promised to call for him on his way down the harbour.
No sooner, however, had the party left the ship than,
seeing a passage boat on her way down to Port Royal,
Gerald hailed her and desired to be put on board the
Champion, which, he calculated, would by that
time have come into port. Very soon, greatly
to his delight, he saw her come to an anchor, just
before the boat reached Port Royal; and as he climbed
up on one side, the captain in his gig shoved off
on the other. As he stepped through the gangway
he discovered by the countenances of those who observed
him that his appearance created considerable astonishment;
but, without answering any of the questions put to
him, he went aft to the first lieutenant, and reported
himself as come on board.
“Why, Tracy, it was supposed
you were killed!” exclaimed Mr Tarwig.
“Has Mr Foley escaped as well as you?”
“Yes, sir, I am happy to say
so,” answered Gerald; and he briefly recounted
what had happened.
“The captain will be glad to
hear this,” observed Mr Tarwig, who having no
time for talking, resumed the duty he was carrying
on; and Gerald hurried away to try the effect the
news he had brought would produce on his older messmates.
He looked out for old Beater, who was not to be seen,
and he observed Crowhurst on the forecastle.
“There he is, crowing as loud
as ever,” thought Gerald, as he remarked the
consequential air with which the old mate walked the
deck and shouted to the men. The lately trim
corvette was much knocked about; besides the loss
of her main-topmast, many of her other spars had been
wounded, her sails riddled with shot, while her bulwarks
and deck had been torn open in several places, one
of her guns disabled, and most of her boats damaged.
The first person he met who had time
to exchange a word with him was the purser.
“What, Tracy,” he exclaimed, “you
still in the land of the living! I had written
D at the end of your name; I shall have the trouble
of crossing it out again. We were going to put
up your effects for sale to-morrow.”
“Much obliged to you, sir,”
answered Gerald, “and must apologise for giving
you so much trouble. Were Mr Foley’s effects
to be sold at the same time? I suppose Beater
or Crowhurst expect to get promoted in his place.”
“Beater has got all the promotion
he ever will, poor fellow,” answered Mr Cheeseparings;
“he was the only officer killed in our late action,
though we had six men wounded. But Crowhurst
is looking forward to get his lieutenancy to a certainty.”
“I concluded that he would do
so; but as Mr Foley happens to be alive, he will be
rather disappointed,” said Gerald.
“Dear me! has he escaped too?”
exclaimed the purser. “Well, though I
haven’t to sell his effects, I really am glad;
and so, I am sure, will be Billhook and Mac.”
“If you’ll excuse me,
sir, I’ll go and communicate the pleasing intelligence
to Crowhurst, who will, I hope, rejoice as much as
the gun-room officers,” said Gerald. Directly
afterwards he met Nat Kiddle. “Come along,”
he said, “and see me pull old Crowhurst down
a peg or two.”
The two midshipmen met Crowhurst coming
aft. “What, youngster, are you alive?”
he exclaimed. “I shall have some work for
you and Kiddle directly.”
“Yes, old fellow, I’m
alive and well,” answered Gerald, “and
will return to my duty as soon as the commander or
one of the lieutenants orders me.”
“Let me tell you, youngster,
I don’t choose to be called old fellow, and
as I am acting lieutenant, you will obey my orders.”
“Certainly,” said Gerald,
“till Mr Foley returns, which I expect he will
do this evening.”
“What — you don’t
mean to say so! — did Mr Foley escape with
you?” exclaimed the old mate, his countenance
falling, and his whole air changing in a moment.
Gerald then, with infinite satisfaction, described
the way he and the lieutenant had been left on board
the Ouzel Galley. Not being required
just then, he dived into the berth to recount his
adventures to the rest of his messmates.
In a short time the two frigates came
in, and anchored near the Champion, where already
lay several other large ships of war forming the Jamaica
fleet, under the command of Admiral Côtés.
Gerald found his messmates not very much out of spirits
at the loss of Beater. The old mate’s
body lay between two guns, covered by an ensign; and
it, with that of two other men who had been killed,
was carried on shore and buried in the graveyard of
Port Royal, where so many gallant British seamen sleep
their last.
Meantime Mr Ferris and Ellen had gone
on shore, escorted by Lieutenant Foley. Those
were the palmy days of Kingston. Men-of-war and
privateers were constantly coming in with rich prizes,
whose cargoes added greatly to the wealth of the city;
the streets were crowded with blacks carrying bales
of all descriptions to the stores; merchants’
clerks were hurrying to the quays to superintend the
unloading of vessels, and naval and military officers
were moving about in all directions; the seamen on
leave were rolling here and there, shouting forth
their sea ditties; while black and brown women with
baskets of fruit and vegetables were standing at the
corners of the streets, often surrounded by a party
of Jack-tars, who quickly emptied them of their contents.
A short walk soon brought the lieutenant
and his friends to the counting-house of Mr Thomas
Twigg, the agent of the firm, and a relative of one
of the partners. They were at once shown to a
large airy room over the office, looking out on the
harbour, containing a table spread for luncheon, consisting
of numerous West Indian delicacies. Mr Twigg,
of course, pressed the lieutenant to remain.
“You don’t know whether
your ship has come in, and even if she has, they’ve
got on very well without you, and an hour more or less
can make no difference,” he observed.
Norman Foley was in no hurry to take his departure.
“Mr and Miss Ferris are coming to my pen, about
five miles off,” continued Mr Twigg, “and
I hope you will accompany them. We shall start
in about a couple of hours, when there will be more
shade on the road than there is at present.”
The lieutenant, very unwillingly,
was compelled to decline the invitation, but agreed
to remain to see his friends off. On hearing
of Gerald, Mr Twigg insisted on sending on board the
Ouzel Galley to invite him, and Gerald afterwards
found that in his eagerness to witness the disappointment
of his messmate he had thereby lost a pleasant expedition,
he having left the ship before the message arrived
on board; but, soon afterwards, who should come in
but Captain Olding, who was so delighted to find that
his lieutenant and midshipman had escaped, that he
at once gave them both leave to accept Mr Twigg’s
invitation. Norman Foley had the happiness of
accompanying Ellen in one carriage, while Mr Ferris
and his friend, who had much to talk about, went in
another. Ellen was, of course, delighted with
the scenery and the tropical vegetation, so new to
her, though she possibly did not examine them as minutely
as she might have done under other circumstances:
Norman would have to leave her in a day or two, and
he might not return for a long time. She had
heard her father say that he expected shortly to accompany
Mr Twigg to an estate on the other side of the island,
and even should Norman’s ship come into Port
Royal, he might not be able to pay her a visit.
Of course he promised to come if he could, even though
he might be able to remain only a few hours.
Bellevue was a beautiful spot about fifty miles off,
on the other side of the Blue Mountains, a short distance
from Saint Ann’s Bay, and Norman hoped that his
ship might be cruising off the north coast, and that
he would then have an opportunity of seeing her.
At all events, they neither of them were more unhappy
than was necessary at the thoughts of their approaching
separation.
On their arrival at East Mount, Mr
Twigg’s country house, Ellen was amused by the
number of black slaves who rushed out to receive them,
chattering and laughing, and doing their best to welcome
the strangers. The house was a one-storied building,
with a broad verandah round it, standing on the summit
of a hill of considerable elevation overlooking the
plain, with Kingston and the harbour in the distance;
it was thus exposed to the sea breeze, so necessary
to anything like enjoyment in the tropics. Mrs
Twigg, a buxom little lady — a fitting partner
to her sprightly, jovial spouse — received
Ellen with a hearty welcome to Jamaica. She
evidently saw how matters stood between her and the
young lieutenant, and, as far as her sense of the
duties of a hostess would allow her, left them together
as much as they could desire, while Mr Ferris and
her husband were for the greater part of the day absent
at Kingston. Those two days while Norman remained
at East Mount were among the brightest they had hitherto
enjoyed. The place seemed a perfect Eden, with
its green lawn kept ever verdant by the sparkling stream
which flowed down on one side from the hill above,
bordered by the graceful and variously shaped trees
of the tropics — the tall maple arrow, surrounded
by its flowering crown of yellow; the Spanish needle,
with its dagger-like leaves; the quilled pimploe, a
species of cactus; and numberless others, from the
branches of which hung lilac and purple wreaths in
rich festoons — while the sweet notes of the
feathered songsters ever and anon burst forth, and
here and there could be seen tiny humming-birds flitting
from flower to flower, fluttering for a moment and
then darting off with the speed of lightning, their
gem-like plumage glittering in the sun.
Ellen and Norman, though they often
talked of the past, spoke most of the future, when
he should have gained his promotion, and, the war being
over, might quit the service without dishonour and
live on shore.
After arranging his affairs in Jamaica,
which he believed would occupy some months, Mr Ferris
proposed returning to Ireland. He intended to
make the voyage in the Ouzel Galley when she
could sail under safe convoy. In the mean time
he expected to spend two or three months at Bellevue,
and Norman hoped that they might there again meet.
Happily for themselves, they were ignorant of the
dark storm which was brewing over the island.
At length Norman’s leave expired,
and he had to return on board the Champion.
A few days afterwards Mr Ferris and Ellen, accompanied
by Mr and Mrs Twigg and their family, set off across
the island for Bellevue.