The Missing Ship: The Log of the "Ouzel" Galley. William Henry Giles Kingston
“That would never do,” answered Gerald; “you might be hit as well as anybody else, and you wouldn’t like to have a leg or an arm shot off.”
Poor Norah shuddered at the thoughtless remark of her brother. Gerald observed the expression of her countenance.
“I didn’t intend to frighten you,” he said; “I hope that none of us will be hurt—only of course there’s a risk, and we must save you from being exposed to it. We shall only make a running fight of it, and try to knock away some of the enemy’s spars and prevent her from following us. If she were to come up with us, she is so much bigger than we are, and so much more heavily armed, with probably six times as many hands, that we should have no chance in a broadside fight.”
“If we are captured what will happen?” asked Norah.
“I suppose we shall be carried into a French port, and be kept prisoners till the war is over, and you and I must learn to talk French. It won’t be so very bad, after all, so you needn’t look so grave, Norah,” answered Gerald.
“It will break our poor father’s heart, I fear,” answered Norah, “and Owen will be miserable.”
“Well, then, though wishing it won’t exactly help us, we’ll hope to escape, and that none of the dreadful things you expect will happen,” said Gerald.
Though Gerald made light of the matter, others on board did not do so. From the first Owen had had little doubt that the ship chasing them was French. The captain differed from him, but agreed that she was probably a privateer. Though her masts raked, so did those of many British ships, especially of those sailing from Jersey and Guernsey, while there was nothing that he could see remarkable about the cut of her sails. The second mate expressed no opinion. After a time, however, a cloud was seen to gather on his brow.
“I thought you boasted of this craft being remarkably fast,” he observed to Owen. “Now, as far as I can judge, that ship yonder is sailing nearly two feet to our one, and will be within hail of us before dark.”
“She sails faster than we do, I acknowledge; but you over-estimate her speed,” answered Owen. “I still expect that we shall keep well ahead of her till dark, and we may then alter our course and escape.”
“I tell you your hopes are vain; yonder ship is as fast a craft as any out of a French port—we haven’t a chance of escaping her,” replied Mr. Carnegan.
“You know her, then?” answered Owen.
“I have seen her more than once—before the war broke out, of course—and, from her size and the weight of her metal, if we attempt to fight her we shall be sent to the bottom,” was the answer.
“The captain intends to try and knock her spars away, and thus to enable us to escape,” said Owen.
“She is more likely to send our masts over the side than to suffer any harm our popguns can do her,” observed the second mate.
Captain Tracy, who had been watching the stranger for some time, now summoned them both and asked their opinion. They repeated what they had before said. “Owen, we can trust our crew?” he observed.
“Even the sick men would be ready to fight—we can depend on all of them,” said Owen.
“Then we’ll train two guns aft, and fight them as long as our own masts stand,” exclaimed Captain Tracy. “Hoist our ensign, that there may be no mistake—though I own that I have now little doubt of that fellow being a Frenchman. We shall soon see—yes—there, up goes the white flag with the lilies of France; it won’t be long before she is within range.”
“I think not, sir,” observed the second mate, “and if you take my advice you will not attempt to fight—even if we do knock away a spar or two, with her crew of not less than a hundred and twenty men, I’ll warrant she’ll speedily repair her damages; and as she carries heavy metal, if I mistake not, her first broadside will send us to the bottom.”
The captain made no reply. “Gerald,” he said, “take your sister down to the hold—Dan Connor and Tim will arrange a secure place for her, and I put her under your charge—remember, you’re to remain with her, and not to return on deck till I send for you.”
Gerald looked very much disappointed, but he well knew that it would be vain to expostulate. He had fully expected to engage in the fight, or to “take part in the fun,” as he called it. Norah had before this gone into the cabin, to which Gerald repaired, and with no very good grace delivered their father’s orders. Without a murmur Norah prepared to obey them. The second mate and some of the men were engaged in dragging one of the guns aft. As she came on deck, Norah found her father standing near the companion-hatch. Embracing her, he kissed her brow and said, “Don’t be alarmed, my child; we shall manage to escape the Frenchman, I hope, and come off without damage. Go into your nest, now, with Gerald, and I hope before long I shall have a good report to give you.”
As she went forwards towards the main hatchway she glanced at Owen; he sprang to her side and without stopping to ask leave assisted her below. It was a dreary place which had been prepared for her among sugar-hogsheads, rum casks, and packages of other West India produce. Dan Connor, who had been till that moment busy in arranging it, appeared with a lantern to light them the latter part of the way. Norah looked with no little dismay at the dark recess in which she and Gerald were to pass the period of the impending action.
“Shure, Miss Norah, you’ll find it more aisy and pleasant than you think for,” said Dan, who observed the expression of her countenance, “when the lantern’s hung up, as I’ll be doing to give you light; and I’d make bold to say that if you’d brought a book to read, or just some work to amuse yourself, you’d be after finding the time pass pleasantly enough away.”
Norah, as may be imagined, felt little disposed to read or work, or to fancy that the time could pass pleasantly. She almost smiled at the idea. It appeared to her that it would be the most dreadful period of her existence. On entering, however, she found that Dan had arranged a seat with some cushions and a grating to keep her feet off any moisture which might have oozed out of the casks, Dan secured the lantern, as he proposed, to a sugar cask, while Owen pressed Norah’s hand.
“Hope for the best, dearest,” he whispered. “I’d have given worlds to save you from this; but we can trust to One who rules all things for protection, and we may still escape the threatened danger. A calm may come on before the Frenchman gets up with us, or an English ship of superior force may heave in sight—hope for the best; I must stay no longer. Gerald, you heard the captain’s orders—let nothing induce you to quit your sister. I know your spirit, and that you’d rather be on deck; but your duty is to remain below, and by doing your duty, however much against the grain it may be, you’ll be showing truer courage than by going where round shot and bullets may be flying round your head like hail.”
“You are right, Mr. Massey, and you may depend on my not quitting Norah, whatever happens;” and Gerald sat himself down on a tub which Dan had placed for him, and resolutely folded his arms as if he felt that in no other way could he keep his post. The next moment Owen sprang upon deck, followed by Dan. Never before had Owen Massey been so anxious to avoid a fight—indeed, all on board were, for various reasons, much of the same mind. Captain Tracy was resolved to escape if he could, and to fight only if it would enable him to do so. The hope that a British ship of war might heave in sight had only just occurred to Owen when below with Norah, and as soon as he returned on deck he went up to the mast-head, almost expecting to see another ship standing towards the enemy; but though he swept the whole horizon with his glass, not a sail appeared in sight, and he had quickly to descend to attend to his duties. The crew, meantime, were bringing up powder and shot from below, and loading the guns. Two of the longest pieces had already been run out astern; they were of brass, and of small bore, but were able to send a shot as far as most guns in use in those days. The others were smaller pieces, carried for the purpose of defending the ship, should she be attacked by any of the picaroons, at that time the pest of the Caribbean Sea. When Owen again looked out, he saw that