Part 17 (1/2)

Jack Mackenzie used to boast that the _Tonneraire_ carried the smartest lot of mids.h.i.+pmen that the service could boast of. They were indeed a fine lot, not mids.h.i.+p_mites_ but mids.h.i.+p_men_; for some indeed had been, for acts of valour, promoted from gunners or boatswains.

It needed all their strength and courage to fight the battle I shall now briefly describe.

Everything, it is said, is fair in love and war. I do not know about the love, but I am certain about the war. It is the aim and object of any one nation carrying on war with another, not only to destroy the war-s.h.i.+ps of the enemy, but to sink and burn her vessels of commerce wherever found. In this memorable cruise of Jack Mackenzie's, then, he was ever on the outlook for a sail or sails. The _Tonneraire_ was as fleet as the wind. If, then, a man-o'-war, French or Spanish, was fallen in with, unless the odds seemed out of all proportion against him, Jack fought her. If she was too big he performed a strategic retreat; well, in plainer language, he ran away.

But he used to send boats in and around the numerous islands on the coast of France to reconnoitre, and frequently they found something lying at anchor worth attacking. When, one forenoon, Tom Fairlie returned and reported a whole convoy of merchantmen lying at anchor under the protection of a frigate and the forts between the island of N---- and the mainland, Jack at once held a council of war, and it was resolved to attack after nightfall. On this occasion all the boats save one were needed, and the little expedition consisted of seven officers, over one hundred Seamen, and fifty marines.

As usual, the boarding took place after dark. I need not describe the fight; it was fierce, brief, and terrible, but finally the frigate was captured.

At this time very little wind was blowing, and a half-moon in the sky shed a sad but uncertain light upon the blood-slippery decks.

And now a council of war was held to consider what had best be done. The destruction of the fleet of fifteen merchantmen, who as the tide was running out had grounded in shallow water, was imperative. It was determined, therefore, to leave a sufficient force of men on board the captured vessel, in case of an attempt on the part of the foe to regain their s.h.i.+p, and to proceed forthwith to burn the fleet. Tom Fairlie left four of his st.u.r.diest mids and eighty men on board the frigate, and then left her. In less than half-an-hour every one of the merchantmen was well a-lit, the crews having already escaped in their boats.

It was a strange and appalling sight. The flames were red and lurid, the green hills, the dark rocks, and the sands were lit up with a brilliancy as of noonday, while the rolling clouds of smoke, laden as thickly with sparks as the sky in a snowstorm, were carried far away southwards and seaward. But the light was dazzling, confusing; and before the bold sailors knew which way to steer, they ran aground. The tide, in ten minutes' time, left them high and dry.

Guns from the forts, too, began to roar out; and to add to the terror of the situation, a company of soldiers was drawn up on the beach, and Tom's men began to fall, uncertain though their fire was.

It was a trying situation; but Tom Fairlie was as cool as an old general. He descried that troops of marines, hundreds in fact, were being poured into the frigate, and that she seemed already recaptured.

He resolved, therefore, to desert his boats and cross the bay, where lay a craft which could contain all his men.

This was done at extraordinary hazard, Tom's men, though bearing their wounded with them, keeping up a running fire till the craft was reached.

Luckily the soldiers had retired, but it took his men half-an-hour to get the little schooner into deep water.

It was a sad though heroic story that Tom Fairlie had to tell when in the gray dawn of that summer's morning he rejoined his s.h.i.+p.

Jack now made all sail southwards, to report proceedings to his admiral.

He was welcomed most kindly; and although he half expected a reprimand for losing so many boats and so many men, he received nothing but praise for his gallantry, and a special despatch was sent home descriptive of the whole cruise of the _Tonneraire_.

”We cannot expect to fight without losses,” said the good admiral warmly; ”and I am always pleased when my officers do their duty, as you and your brave a.s.sociates have done yours.”

Jack's face glowed with shy pride. It was so delightful to be thus talked to that his eyes filled with tears.

The _Tonneraire_ got more boats, and was soon again on the war-path; but somehow everybody in the mess, and even the sailors forward, sadly missed the merry, laughing face of young Murray, for the boy was among the captured.

Would he ever come again?

CHAPTER XIX.

THE BATTLE OF CAMPERDOWN.

”The flag of Britannia, the flag of the brave, Triumphant it floateth on land and o'er wave, And proudly it braveth the battle and blast, For when tattered with shot it is nailed to the mast.”

_Old Song._

It was early on the morning of one of those bright and bracing days in the beginning of October, when summer seems to return as if to say good-bye before giving place to winter with its wild winds, its stormy seas, its driving mist and sleet. The _Tonneraire_ had sailed in towards Havre on the previous evening. To put it in plain English, she was on the prowl. Jack had received word from a fisherman that lying at anchor was a very large store-s.h.i.+p belonging to the French, and he meant to cut her out or destroy her. But either the fisherman had deceived him or the vessel had sailed. He found no vessel that he could make a prize of, nor any foeman worthy of his steel.

Having been up half the night, Jack Mackenzie was tired, and had lain down to sleep. The s.h.i.+p was under easy sail, and going to the north and west, right before the wind. Jack was dreaming about his old home of Grantley Hall. He was walking in the garden on a bright moonlight night with his sister and Gerty; but the sister had gone on, up the broad green walk, while the other two stopped beside the old dial-stone, the figures on which were quite overgrown with green moss and gray pink-tipped lichens.