The Missing Ship: The Log of the "Ouzel" Galley. William Henry Giles Kingston
they had met with, were rushing aft, when the second mate appeared from the cabin with his arm in a sling and encountered the officer who led the boarders.
“You will not injure a beaten foe!” he exclaimed. “You know me, though you must be surprised to find me where I am. See, my shipmates have surrendered and can offer no further resistance.”
As he spoke he put out his right hand, which the French officer grasped, and together they walked aside, where they held a hurried conversation while the survivors of the crew threw down their weapons. The Frenchmen, however, while their leader’s eye was off them, rushed into the cabin and began ransacking the lockers and appropriating such articles as took their fancy. Dan, on observing this, sprang before them and placed himself at the door of Norah’s berth, into which he would allow no one to enter.
“You can’t come in here, mounseers,” he exclaimed; “shure, you’ll be too polite to frighten a lady out of her wits—and it’s already fright enough she’s had with hearing all the hullabaloo you’ve been after making.”
Dan hoped by this artifice to prevent the Frenchmen searching for Norah, which he was afraid they might have done had they broken into the cabin and discovered female gear. As it was, he made them understand that the captain’s wife was the occupant of the cabin.
Meantime Owen, overcome by loss of blood, sank exhausted on the deck. The French officer, a fair, slightly built man, with more the appearance of a Briton than a Gaul, now approached Captain Tracy and addressed him in English with but little French accent. “I must compliment you on your bravery, though I cannot do so on your discretion in attempting to resist me,” he said. “Your vessel has become my prize, and, as I understand that your cargo is of value, I must send you into a French port; but having heard that you have the yellow fever on board, I will not remove any of your people to my ship, though I will leave an adequate prize crew to navigate her.”
Just then the report of a pistol was heard, and a shriek was heard coming from the hold of the ship.
“What’s that?” exclaimed the French officer.
“My daughter!—save her from your people!” cried Captain Tracy, hurrying towards the main hatchway. The more active Frenchman sprang before him and descended, followed by the captain and Carnegan, who, suffering from his wound, was less able than they were to move quickly. The Frenchman by his loud shouts soon let his men know that he was approaching. On reaching the hold he found Gerald in the hands of several of them, while Norah was endeavouring to protect him from their rage which he had excited.
“Let go that boy!” shouted the French officer, at the same time drawing his sword to enforce his order. He was quickly obeyed. “Who is this young lady?” he asked, turning to the captain; “I was not aware that she was on board.”
“She is my daughter, sir; and I sent her down here to be out of danger during the fighting. I am sure I can trust to your gallantry to protect her,” said Captain Tracy.
“You may depend on my doing so,” answered the French officer; then addressing Gerald, he said, “Come here, my lad—you are a brave boy, I see, and thinking my people were about to insult your sister, you fought for her. The fellow you wounded deserved his punishment. Return on deck and go on board your own ship,” he continued, addressing his crew in French. The men quickly obeyed him. “And now, young lady, let me escort you to your cabin,” he added; “you need be under no further anxiety, as no one will venture to intrude on you.”
Carnegan had before this reached the hold. He was about to assist Norah in ascending.
“I must claim that honour,” said the Frenchman; and, offering his hand, he conducted Norah out of the dark place. No sooner had they reached the deck than her eyes fell on Owen lying wounded on the poop. Disregarding every one, she threw herself down by his side.
“Oh, speak to me, Owen—tell me where you are hurt!” she exclaimed. Owen tried to answer her, but could only point to his wounded shoulder. “He will bleed to death!” she cried. “Run, Gerald—get some bandages from the cabin. Oh, father, come and help me!”
“I will send my surgeon to dress the young officer’s wound,” said the French captain, approaching; “he will attend also to the other injured men, and I regret that I cannot remain near you to be of any further use.”
Carnegan had watched Norah; an angry frown passed across his brow, but he made no remark. The French surgeon was quickly on board; he desired that Owen should be carried to his cabin, where he speedily dressed his wound and gave him a stimulant which restored him to consciousness. He then left directions with Norah how to treat his patient, assuring her that the hurt was very slight, and that he would soon recover.
“Come, my friend,” said the French officer to Carnegan; “as you are not from the West Indies, we shall have no fear of your giving us the fever. I must therefore beg for your company—you will require the attendance of the surgeon, and one wounded man is enough for that young lady to look after.”
Carnegan appeared to be expostulating; but the French officer refused to accede to his request, and hurried him on board, without allowing him even the opportunity of wishing farewell to Norah.
The French crew had in the mean time brought a fresh topmast on board the Ouzel Galley, to supply the place of the one shot away, and had been busily employed in getting it up. They had not, however, completed the work when the look-out from the mast-head of the French ship shouted, “A sail to the south-east!” and they were immediately summoned back to their own ship. A young lieutenant and seven men, forming the prize crew, then came on board the Ouzel Galley, the surgeon being the last person to quit her.
“Who is the officer who boarded us, and what is the name of your ship?” asked Captain Tracy, after expressing his thanks to the surgeon for his attention.
“He is Captain Thurot, and his ship is the Coquille, the most celebrated privateer out of Dunkirk,” was the answer. “It is positively an honour to be captured by him—let that be your consolation, my dear sir.”
“Faith, it’s but a poor consolation, then,” answered Captain Tracy; “but I thank you for suggesting even a shadow of comfort. I will follow your directions with regard to my poor wounded fellows, and once again beg to express my gratitude for what you have done for them.”
The Coquille immediately casting off her prize, made all sail in chase of the stranger, the rapidly approaching shades of evening soon concealing her from sight. The French prize crew, aided by the seamen of the Ouzel Galley, went on with the work which had been left incomplete of setting up the main-topmast rigging and getting the yard across. Night compelled them to knock off before the work was finished. The wind, however, continued steady, and the ship ran on almost dead before it under her head-sails the French officer, Lieutenant Vinoy, was a remarkably polite young gentleman, but whether or not he was a good seaman remained to be proved. He expressed his wish in no way to incommode Mademoiselle, as he called Norah, and declared that he should be perfectly satisfied to occupy the second mate’s cabin, and would on no account turn her or her father out of theirs. Besides himself, he had but one person, a petty officer, capable of taking charge of a watch, so that he had but very little time to bestow on the young lady those attentions which, under other circumstances, he might have been inclined to pay. She too was fully engaged in attending on Owen and in visiting with her father the wounded and sick men.
The night passed off quietly, and the whole of the first day was spent by all hands in setting up the topmast. It was not till supper-time that the lieutenant entered the cabin, and, throwing himself on a chair, expressed his satisfaction that the task was at length accomplished. “And your men, captain, deserve credit for the way they have worked,” he observed; “they could not have done so more willingly had they been performing the task for their own advantage. For my part, I am pretty well worn out—you may be sure that I shall sleep soundly during my watch below.”
“Do you generally sleep soundly, Lieutenant Vinoy?” asked Gerald.
“Yes,