Part 12 (1/2)
True Blue had not far to stoop as he took the lanyard of the lock in his hand and looked carefully along the gun. The _Ruby_ had herself hauled up a little. For an instant there was a cessation of firing. Billy at that moment pulled the trigger. The Frenchmen were in the very act of bracing up the mizen-topsail-yard when the mizen-mast was seen to bend over to starboard, and, with a crash, to come toppling down overboard, shot away a few feet only above the deck.
”You did it--you did it, Billy, my boy!” exclaimed Paul Pringle, almost beside himself with joy, seizing his G.o.dson in his arms and giving him a squeeze which would have pressed the breath out of a slighter body.
”Who fired that last shot?” asked the Captain from aft.
”True Blue, sir--Billy Freeborn!” cried Paul Pringle.
”Hurrah! hurrah!” shouted the men at the gun.
”Bravo! let him fire another, then,” answered Captain Garland, not complaining of the irregularity of the proceeding. Not another word could have been heard, for both the _Ruby_ and the French frigate again began pounding away at each other.
True Blue, with the encouragement he had received, stepped boldly up to the gun. The captain was Tom Marline, one of his a.s.sistant-guardians, and he was a favourite with all the rest, so that there was no feeling of jealousy excited against him.
Again he looked along it. He waited his time till the smoke had cleared away a little, and then once more he fired. The shot hit--of that both Marline and Paul Pringle were certain, but what damage was done they could not determine.
”I pitched it astern, not far from the wheel,” observed True Blue quietly. ”Maybe it hit the wheel--maybe not.”
Again the firing went on as before, and True Blue modestly returned to his powder tub. More than once he jumped up, anxious to have another pull at the lanyard of his gun. Paul, however, did not encourage this; he wisely considered that he had done enough to establish a reputation, which more shots would not have increased.
Suddenly Paul struck his hands together with delight. ”She is steering wildly! she is steering wildly!” he cried out. ”True Blue, you did knock her wheel away--you did, boy. See what she's about!”
The French frigate as he spoke paid off right before the wind, and presented her bows directly at the _Ruby_. In that position she received a raking broadside; but nothing could stop her--she was utterly without guidance, and on she came like a battering-ram directly at the beam of the _Ruby_. Captain Garland, so sudden was the movement, could accomplish no manoeuvre to avoid the collision. The French s.h.i.+p's jibboom, as she fell on board the English frigate, pa.s.sed directly between her fore and mainmasts, and there she hung, while it pressed so hard against the already wounded mainmast that there appeared every prospect of the latter being carried away. Just before, a shot had struck the boatswain and brought him mortally wounded to the deck.
Paul Pringle knew of his loss. As he looked at the mast, strained to the utmost, the main and spring stays being also shot away, he thought to himself, ”If the mast goes the Frenchman will break clear, and ten to one, after all, escape us.”
It was a time for decision, not for much consideration.
”Who'll follow me, lads?” he exclaimed, seizing an axe and springing into the rigging.
Tom Marline and several other bold fellows did follow. They had to ascend and then to descend the tottering mast. Terrific was the danger.
Should the mast fall, their death would be almost certain. They thought, however, only of the safety of the s.h.i.+p, or rather, how they might best prevent the escape of the enemy. With right good will they plied their axes on the enemy's jibboom. Bravely they hacked away, in spite of the fire of musketry which was kept up from her decks.
Meantime a cry was raised below that the French were about to board.
”Boarders, repel boarders!” cried Captain Garland.
”I'll lead you, my lads!” exclaimed the first lieutenant. ”See, they are not coming; but we'll be at them--hurrah!”
True Blue, finding that there was no more work for him to do in getting up powder, and seeing Abel Bush and Peter Ogle, with a few others, following Mr Brine on board the Frenchman, seized the cutla.s.s of a seaman who had just been killed close to him, and, in the impulse of the moment, sprang after them. In vain, however, their gallant leader endeavoured to get on board from the upper deck. Numbers of Frenchmen stood in the head, and, in spite of all the activity of the British seamen, they could not spring into it. On finding this, quick as lightning Mr Brine leaped down, and, followed by a few, reached the maindeck. Then, calling more round him, he sprang through the bow-ports of the enemy's maindeck, with Peter Ogle, True Blue, and a few others, driving all opponents before him. Just at that moment, before all the boarders had time to follow, Paul Pringle had succeeded in cutting through the Frenchman's jibboom, with all the connecting rigging, and, her head coming round, she was once more clear of the _Ruby_, and drifting helplessly away from her. Even while engaged in his task, Paul's watchful eye had detected True Blue seizing the cutla.s.s, and when he followed Mr Brine he guessed his object. Still he did not suppose that those with him would allow the boy to board the Frenchman; and, at all events, he was not the man to be deterred by any consideration from completing the duty which he had undertaken.
The moment, however, that he had performed it thus effectually, he slid down rapidly on deck and eagerly sought for his G.o.dson. He was met with a cry from Harry Hartland and Tim Fid, ”Oh yes, Paul, he's gone--True Blue's gone; he's on board the Frenchman, and they'll make mincemeat of him--that they will!”
He observed, also, Abel Bush, Tom Marline, and others standing eyeing the French frigate, the very pictures of anxiety and disappointed rage.
He saw too clearly that True Blue must have been one of those who had been carried off in the French s.h.i.+p when she broke adrift from them. To a.s.sist in clearing her, the _Ruby's_ helm had been put aport, or to larboard, as was then the expression, and this carried her still farther away from _La Belle Citoyenne_.
Captain Garland was not aware for some little time that any of his people had gained the enemy's decks. The instant the fact was communicated to him, he became doubly eager to get once more alongside.
The minutes, however, appeared like hours to those who knew that their s.h.i.+pmates and friends were surrounded by exasperated foes, who were too likely, in the heat of the moment, to give no quarter. Paul Pringle groaned with anxiety for the fate of his G.o.dson. There he stood, his huge beard blackened with smoke and dabbled with a s.h.i.+pmate's blood; his hair, which had escaped from under his handkerchief when he went aloft, streaming in the breeze; his brawny arm bared, and his drawn cutla.s.s in his hand; and looking truly like one of the sea-kings of old, the rovers of the main, prepared for a desperate struggle with his enemies. Just then the sails of the French frigate were taken aback, and the effect of this was to cause her to make a stern board, which drove her right down on the _Ruby_.
Once more, by slightly s.h.i.+fting his helm, Captain Garland allowed her to drop alongside, the respective bows and sterns of the two s.h.i.+ps being in opposite directions.