Part 11 (1/2)

On seeing the captain, every one rose, nor would they be seated until he consented to sit down.

”Just sit down, Captain Mackenzie,” said M'Hearty, with a merry twinkle in his eye, ”and have a gla.s.s of wine while your soup is getting cold.”

”If the president bids me, I must obey,” said Jack, seating himself beside Tom. ”It must be but for a moment. There are older men than myself here--our worthy Master Simmons, for example. I came to take your views about that Frenchman. He is evidently a battle-s.h.i.+p, probably a seventy-four. I say fight him; but considering this is my first captaincy--” But he was interrupted. Every man rose to his feet. It was a strange council of war, because every man held aloft a gla.s.s of wine.

The words, ”Fight him!” ran round the table like platoon firing. There was determination in every eye and in every voice, from the deep ba.s.s of the gray-bearded master down to the shrill treble of the rosy-cheeked fledgeling marine-officer Murray, a mere boy, who would certainly have seemed more in place in the cricket-field than on the battle-deck.

”I'm going now,” said Jack. ”Thank you all.--Excuse me, won't you, Dr.

M'Hearty? I think the soup is cold enough by this time. But we'll make it hot for the enemy.”

”Hurrah!”

The moon was later in rising that night, being on the wane.

It was the first lieutenant's watch from eight till twelve. Nothing transpired until about seven bells, when Jack and Tom Fairlie were walking slowly up and down the p.o.o.p. The moon was now well up, but hidden by a ma.s.s of c.u.mulus cloud. Presently she would burst into view, for the clouds were sailing slowly along the horizon, and near hand was a rift of blue.

Instinctively as it were, both officers stopped to gaze in that direction. In a few seconds the moon shot into the field of blue, and her light flashed over the sea.

It flashed upon the phantom Frenchman, as Tom Fairlie called her; but so quickly had she come into view that the sight was startling in the extreme. She was not crossing the moon's wake this time, however, but bearing down upon the _Tonneraire_, as if about to attack her.

The man at the mast-head had seen her at the same time, and his stentorian shout of, ”Enemy on the starboard quarter!” awoke the sleeping s.h.i.+p to instant life as effectually as if a fifty-pounder had fired.

All hands to quarters.

R--r--r--r--r--r--r--r rattled the drum. It rattled once; the heaviest sleeper started and rubbed his eyes. It rattled twice; every man was on his legs and dressing. Thrice; and three minutes thereafter every man stood by his gun, and the c.o.c.kpit hatches were put down. The s.h.i.+p was ready for action.

Would she come on? would the Frenchman fight? Alas! no. Already she began to a.s.sume larger proportions as she showed broadside on. Above the wind, that now blew more gently from the north, the very flapping of her sails and loosening of her sheets could be heard as she came round, and in less than an hour she had almost disappeared in the uncertain light.

CHAPTER XII.

A BATTLE BY NIGHT.

”What art thou, fascinating War, Thou trophied, painted pest, That thus men seek and yet abhor, Pursue and yet detest?”--DIBDIN.

Day after day Jack's fleet held on its course, and the weather continued unbroken and fine. Day after day the phantom Frenchman hovered somewhere about, afraid perhaps to try conclusions with that rakish, spiteful-looking British frigate, or perhaps but biding her chance.

Twice or thrice Jack put about, sailed back and challenged her, with a shot, to fight if she dared. There never came the slightest response from Johnny c.r.a.paud--she seemed indeed a phantom.

And at night those on board the _Tonneraire_ could not help thinking the phantom was ever near them, even when it was too dark to see her. I do not think, however, that it kept many of the officers awake at night, although it must be confessed Jack was ill at ease. If it were possible for the enemy to steal near enough in the pitchy dark portion of the night, the first intimation of her presence might be a raking broadside that would sweep the decks fore and aft; then farewell the _Tonneraire_.

There are few things more difficult to bear than what Scotch people so expressively term ”tig-tire,” or excessive tantalization. There came a day when Jack called his chief officers together in his own cabin.

”Gentlemen,” he said, ”I've had enough of that French fellow. Why should he follow us night and day, like the shadow of the evil one, and yet refuse to fight? I mean to carry war into the enemy's camp, or rather on to his quarter-deck, if you think my plan feasible. Remember, I am hot-headed and young.”

Jack then unfolded his plans, and they were generally approved, though the old master was somewhat doubtful of their success.

”However,” he growled, ”I'll take the wheel. Better, perhaps, after all, that we should take the initiative; for, blow me to smithereens, if that tantalizing Froggie ain't spoiling my appet.i.te!”

There was a general laugh at this, and the council broke up.