The Missing Ship: The Log of the "Ouzel" Galley. William Henry Giles Kingston
is as it should be.”
Gerald recollected the lieutenant’s remark, and a thought at that moment came into his head which he kept there, turning it and round and over and over till he carried it into execution.
Chapter Three.
A heavy gale ahead—The wind becomes fair—Gerald’s plan to recover the ship—Carries it out—Norah’s resolution—The lieutenant caught napping—The Frenchmen’s weapons secured—Busson and the French crew overpowered—Gerald and Norah hold Lieutenant Vinoy in check—The Ouzel Galley regained—A course steered for Waterford—Precautions against recapture—Approach the land.
The Ouzel Galley had run very nearly as far north as the latitude of Ushant, though she was still some way to the westward. Her crew had got on very well with their captors, who called them bons garçons, and were perfectly willing to fraternise with them. No one coming on board would have suspected their relative positions. The lieutenant made himself at home in the cabin; he was polite and courteous to Norah and Captain Tracy, and in no way presumed on being, as he was, the real commander of the ship. Gerald, however, did not seem inclined to associate with him, and seldom came into the cabin when he was there. Gerald, indeed, spent most of his time in assisting Norah to attend on Owen, by whose side he would sit patiently for hours together; or else he was holding secret confabulations with Dan Connor and Tim Maloney. Although Owen had been greatly weakened by loss of blood, it saved him from fever, and his wound, which was not deep, rapidly healed. Of this, however, Gerald advised Norah not to tell the lieutenant. The other wounded and pick men continued in their berths, apparently making no progress towards recovery; so that, of the original crew of the Ouzel Galley, there were only five hands besides Gerald and Tim fit for duty. These, of course, the Frenchmen, with their officer, considered that they were perfectly able to keep in order. The weather, which had hitherto been especially favourable, now greatly changed for the worse; a strong north-easterly gale springing up threatened to blow the Ouzel Galley far away to the westward. Lieutenant Vinoy was in despair; he had been anticipating the pleasure of carrying his prize into Boulogne, the port to which Captain Thurot had ordered him to take her, in the course of two or three days—and now she might be kept out for a week, or three weeks for that matter, and the risk of being recaptured greatly increased. Still he did his best to hold his ground, keeping the ship close-hauled, now on one tack, now on the other; while either he or his mate, Jacques Busson, were ever on deck ready to take advantage of any change of wind.
“I shall sleep soundly when this vile wind from the eastward has ceased to blow,” exclaimed the lieutenant one day, on coming down to dinner.
“I hope you will,” said Gerald, looking him boldly in the face. “You deserve some rest after keeping watch and watch so long.”
“Gerald,” said Norah, when they were together in the cabin, the captain being on deck, “I suspect that you are thinking of attempting to recover the vessel, and that our father has not been told what you intend to do.”
“Why should you suppose so?” asked Gerald.
“Because I see you constantly talking to the men in a way you never used to do, and because you avoid the French lieutenant and speak to him in so strange a manner,” answered Norah.
“I won’t deny that I have a plan in my head; but you are to know nothing about it till it has succeeded,” replied Gerald. “One thing I’ll tell you, that I’m very sure it can’t fail of success if all hands are true to each other—and, Norah, don’t be alarmed if you hear that two or three more of our people are down with the fever; and if our father says anything, you can just remark that I told you I was sure they would very soon be well again.”
“I have confidence in your discretion,” said Norah, “but I pray that there may be no necessity for violence, and that neither the young officer nor any of the men may be injured.”
“That depends on circumstances,” said Gerald; “no one wishes to hurt a hair of their heads if they behave themselves—if not, they must take the consequences.”
The gale increasing, it taxed all the strength of the Frenchmen, and the few of the original crew who remained, to shorten sail; but anxious as Lieutenant Vinoy was to get into port, he refused to heave to, and continued beating the ship to windward. At length, one day, soon after noon, the wind began to decrease, and before dark a moderate breeze was blowing from the southward. Captain Tracy had every day taken an observation, the French officer not objecting to his doing so, and Gerald always asked him whereabouts they were, noting the spot carefully down on the chart when the lieutenant was on deck, so that his proceedings might not be remarked. This day, according to Gerald’s calculations, they were exactly a hundred and fifty miles to the southward of Waterford. The night was cloudy, and, as there was no moon, it was darker than usual. One-half of the Frenchmen had turned in, as had Lieutenant Vinoy; Jacques Busson had the middle watch. Gerald had gone to his berth, but not to sleep; he merely pulled off his shoes and jacket, and then, lying down, drew the blanket over him. After waiting for about an hour he got up and groped his way to Lieutenant Vinoy’s cabin; the door was partly open—the sound which issued from within showed that the French officer was fast asleep. Gerald cautiously entered and possessed himself of a brace of pistols which hung within reach of the lieutenant’s hand at the head of his cot, as also of a sword suspended to the bulkhead. Carefully carrying them out, he then, quietly closing the door, made his way to Owen Massey’s cabin.
“We could not have a better opportunity than the present,” he whispered. “If you will get ready, I will call my father and warn Norah to keep quiet. Here are the lieutenant’s pistols—do you take one of them, and I will carry the other and a sword to my father. You will have no difficulty in keeping the lieutenant shut up in his cabin, while I creep forward and get Pompey and Dan to come aft and secure Jacques Busson. Just as they do so I will give a whistle loud enough for you and my father to hear, and immediately you do so you both will spring on deck and overpower the man at the helm. The rest of our people are prepared to act as you have arranged; one of them will knock down the look-out forward, while the others will throw themselves upon the other Frenchmen and secure the hatches on those below. You wished Tim and me to keep ourselves free to act according to circumstances; Tim was to get into the boatswain’s storeroom, and to cut as many lengths of rope as we shall require. He will have them in readiness for the moment they are wanted. There can be no mistake, I hope?”
“None, provided the Frenchmen don’t take alarm,” answered Owen. “You, at all events, understand the plan perfectly.”
“We may carry it out, too, I trust, without bloodshed,” said Gerald. “Shall I go forward and give the signal?”
“Yes. I feel well able to do my part, though my left arm may not be of as much use as I should wish,” answered Owen. “Call your father and Norah, and then lose no time, or the lieutenant may be waking and give us more trouble than is necessary.”
Gerald then crept back into the state cabin. He first went into Norah’s berth, and uttered a few words in her ear in a low voice. She had not undressed, having been warned by Owen of what was likely to happen, and she had resolved to give every assistance in her power; though her arm was weak, she possessed nerve and courage, and might be able to keep watch over the French officer, or even to turn the scale in favour of her friends, should any part of the plan miscarry.
“Give me the pistol,” she whispered; “I know that it is ready for use, as I saw the lieutenant loading it this afternoon.”
“Do you think he suspected anything?” asked Gerald.
“That was no sign of his doing so,” answered Norah; “he has frequently withdrawn the charges and reloaded his pistols since he came on board.”
“All right, you shall have it,” said Gerald; “but you mustn’t mind shooting him