Фредерик Марриет
Percival Keene
“Ah! yaw!” was the reply.
“What ship is that?” continued Captain Delmar.
During this time every man was at his gun; the captains, with the lanyards of the locks in their hands, ready to pour in a broadside.
The reply from the other vessel was—“Vat chip is dat?”
“His Britannic Majesty’s ship Calliope,” replied Captain Delmar; and then he repeated—“What ship is that? Let every man lie down at his quarters,” said Captain Delmar. The order was hardly obeyed, when the stranger frigate poured in her broadside, and as we were then very close, with great execution to our hull and rigging: but as the men had been lying down, very few of them were hurt.
As soon as the crash was over, Captain Delmar cried out—“Up, men, and fire, as I round to under her stern.”
In a few seconds we had passed through the volumes of smoke, and luffed up under her stern: we poured in our whole broadside.
“Let her go off again—flatten in there forward. Reedy about,” was the next order given.
We ran away from her about three cables’ length, until we had sufficient way to tack, and then we went about and stood towards her, steering for her weather quarter, as if we were going to engage her to windward.
“Over to the larboard guns, my lads. Hands by, after bracings and howlings, Mr Hippesley.”
“Aye, aye, sir, all ready.”
As soon as we were near enough, the after-yards were shivered, the jib sheet to windward, and the helm put up. The Calliope worked beautifully; she paid sharp off, and we again passed under her stern, and gave another raking broadside; very unexpected on the part of the Dutchman, who presumed that we were going to engage him to windward, and had his men all ready at his larboard guns in consequence.
The Dutch captain was evidently much annoyed: he stood at the taffrail, and, much to our amusement, cried out, in bad English, “You coward—not fight fair.”
As we shot ahead of her, to leeward, she gave us a portion of her starboard broadside: but the men, having been over at the guns on the other side, were not quick enough, and they did us no injury; whereas, her mizzen-mast fell over the side a few minutes after we passed her.
She then raid off, and so did we, so that she might not rake us, and broadsides were exchanged on equal terms; but before we had exchanged these broadsides, both ships running with the wind on the quarter, we found that our superiority in sailing free was so great, that we shot ahead of him out of his fire, and we were enabled to luff up and rake him again.
The last raking broadside brought down his main-topmast and then she was all our own, as Bob Cross said; as she could not round to with no after sail, and we could from our superiority in sailing, take our position as we pleased, which we did, constantly keeping ahead of him, and raking him, broadside after broadside, and receiving but one broadside in return, until his foremast went by the board, and he had nothing but his main-mast standing.
This bettered his condition on the whole; as, although hardly manageable with so little wind, he had more power over his vessel, as far as rounding to the wind, which he did, and the action continued; but our fighting under sail gave us great advantage, and although an occasional shot would come in, and we had to carry some men into the cockpit, for one shot we received, we certainly returned ten. The action had continued about an hour, when, by the continual cannonading, the light wind was beaten down, and it fell dead calm. This put us again upon a more equal footing, as the Calliope had not steerage way.
We were then about a quarter of a mile apart, lying head and stern; but both ships had fallen off during the calm, so that only the quarter guns of each could be brought to bear. The major portion of the ship’s company being, therefore, not able to use their guns, were employed in repairing the damages we had received, which were very considerable, especially in the sails and rigging.
I was standing by Bob Cross, who was looking out for cats’ paws, as we call slight breaths of wind, when he said in a low voice:—
“Master Keene, I never had an idea that the captain could handle his ship so well: he really knows what he’s about as well as any man in the service.”
“I thought so, too,” replied I. “Whew! there’s a nasty shot,” cried I, as one came in and upset half a dozen of the marines, who were hauling upon the mizzen-topsail sheet, which had just been spliced.
“Yes, sir, that chap is made of good stuff, depend upon it—all the Dutchmen are: if they could only keep their hands out of their breeches pockets, they would be rummer customers than they are now; as it is, they are not to be played with; and, depend upon it, we’re a long way off having him yet: we must pray for wind to come up and he must pray for the calm to continue.”
“Where’s Mr Keene?” said the captain, who was on the other side of the deck.
“Here, sir,” said I, running up and touching my hat.
“Mr Keene, go down quietly and ascertain how many men we have hurt: the doctor will be able to tell you pretty nearly.”
“Aye, aye, sir,” replied I, and I dived down below; just as I did so, a shot came in and cut away the lower rail of the copper stanchions which were round the hatchway, about a foot beyond my hat: had I not gone down so quickly, it would have taken my head off.
I went down into the gun-room, for the doctor preferred being there to the cockpit, as there was so much more room to operate, and I gave him the captain’s message.
He was very busy taking off a poor fellow’s leg. It was a horrible sight and made me sick and faint. As soon us the bone had been sawed off, he said—
“You will find all the wounded I have dressed in the steerage; those they have brought me down dead are in the cockpit. There have been five amputations already the master is badly wounded, and Mr Williams the mate, is killed: those whom I have not been able to attend to yet, are here in the gun-room. You must ascertain what the captain wishes to know yourself, Mr Keene. I cannot, leave a leg with the arteries not taken up, to count heads. Mr Rivers, the tenaculum—ease the tourniquet, now.”
As I felt what the doctor said to be true, I got a lantern and commenced my examinations. I found fourteen wounded men waiting the doctor’s care in the gun-room, which was almost a pool of blood. In the steerage there were nine who had been dressed, and four in their hammocks, who had undergone amputation of the arm or leg. I then went down into the cockpit, where I counted eleven of our best men lying dead. Having obtained the information required, I was proceeding up the cockpit ladder, when I turned towards the purser’s steward’s room, and saw Mr Culpepper, the purser, on his knees before a lantern; he looked very pale—he turned round and saw me.
“What’s the matter?” cried he.
“Nothing, sir; only the captain wishes to know how many men are killed and wounded.”
“Tell him I do not know: surely he does not want me on deck?”
“He wants to know how many men are hurt, sir,” replied I, for I perceived that he thought that the message was sent to him.
“Mercy on me! Stop a minute, Mr Keene, and I’ll send up word by you.”
“I can’t stop, sir,” replied I, going up the ladder.
Mr Culpepper would have called me back, but I preferred leaving him in his error, as I wished to see which he most dreaded, the captain’s displeasure or the shot of the enemy.
I returned on deck and made my report. The captain looked very grave, but made no reply.
I found that the two frigates were now lying stern to stern, and firing occasional guns, which raked fore and aft. Except the men who worked the guns aft, our people were lying down at their quarters, by the order of the captain.
“If we only had but a capful of wind,” said the captain to the first lieutenant, “but I see no appearance of it.”
I touched my hat and said, “The moon will rise in about ten minutes, sir, and she often brings the wind up with her.”
“That’s true, Mr Keene, but it’s not always the case. I only hope she will; if not, I fear we shall lose more of our men.”
The firing continued, and our main-mast had received so many shots, that we were obliged to hold it for its support. While so employed, the moon rose, and the two vessels had now a good view of each other. I directed my glass to the horizon under the moon, and was delighted to perceive a black line, which promised wind; I reported it to the master, and the promise was kept good, for in a quarter of an hour our sails flapped, and then gradually filled.
“She has steerage way, sir,” reported Bob Cross.
“Thank Heaven for that,” replied Captain Delmar. “Jump up, men. Brace round the yards, Mr Hippesley.”
“The enemy’s main yard is cut in two in the slings, sir,” reported I, after I had my glass upon her.
“Then her last hope is gone,” replied Mr Hippesley. “Haul over the starboard jib-sheet forward—let her come to, quartermaster. Larboard guns, my lads.”
“Now, my men,” cried Captain Delmar, “make short work of her.”
This injunction was obeyed. We had now a good sight of the enemy, and brought our whole broadside to bear upon her stern; and after a quarter of an hour more firing I perceived that her ensign was no longer on the staff, where it had been hoisted after the fall of the mizenmast; neither had she for the last five minutes given us a gun in return.
“She has struck, sir, I think,” said I to Captain Delmar; “her ensign is down.”
“Pass the word ‘Cease firing,’ Mr Hippesley; but let the guns be all reloaded in case of accidents. Have we a boat that can swim? Examine the cutters, Mr Keene.”
I found the cutter on the larboard quarter, with her bottom out: she could not swim, that was clear. The starboard one was in better condition.
“The starboard cutter will float, sir; her gunwale is all torn away, but there are rollocks enough to pull.”
“Let her be cleared away and lowered down, Mr Hippesley. Send for the second lieutenant.”
“I believe he’s not on deck sir,” replied the first lieutenant.
“Not much hurt, I hope?”
“A splinter, I was told, sir.”
“Where’s Mr Weymss, the third lieutenant? Mr Weymss, jump into the boat, and take possession of the prize: take as many men as you can; and, Mr Keene, with Mr Weymss, and as soon as you have gained the necessary information, come back with the boat and two hands.”
I followed the third lieutenant info the boat, and we pulled on board of our antagonist. A junior officer received us on the deck, and presented his sword. His left arm was bound up, and he was very pale from loss of blood. He spoke pretty good English; and we found that we had captured the Dort, Dutch frigate, of thirty-eight guns, bound to Curaçao, with a detachment of troops for the garrison, and a considerable quantity of ammunition and specie on board for the use of the colony.
We inquired whether the captain was much hurt, as he did not appear on deck.
“He is dead, gentlemen,” replied the young officer: “he was my father. Our loss has been very great. I am only a cadet, yet I am commanding officer.”
A tear rolled down his cheek as he said that the captain was his father, and I felt for him. Shortly afterwards he staggered to a carronade slide, and dropped down on it, and very soon was in a state of insensibility.
The carnage had been dreadful, and the bulwarks of the vessel had been shattered to pieces. The scene was almost as had as the Stella’s decks before she was blown up by the negro captain. Several of the guns were dismounted and two of them had burst. I had only time to go round the gun-deck, and then I ordered two hands into the boat, that I might make my report to Captain Delmar.
I asked the third lieutenant to allow me to take on board the young officer, who still remained lifeless on the carronade slide, and, as it was proper for me to bring back with me the commanding officer, he consented. We lowered him with a rope into the boat, and then I returned on board of the Calliope, and went up to the captain to make my report, and present him with the sword of the officer commanding the prize.
Just as I was commencing my story, Mr Culpepper came up without his wig, and in a state of great disorder, with a piece of dirty paper in his hand. He trembled very much from the effects of his alarm, but made a very profound bow, and said to Captain Delmar—
“Here is the state of killed and wounded, Captain Delmar, as far as I have been able to collect them. I could not possibly get them ascertained before, although I have been an hour or two employed—ever since Mr Keene came down.”
The captain, who did not like the interruption, replied very haughtily, “Mr Culpepper, it’s the duty of the surgeon to send in the report of killed and wounded. You had better go down below, get your dress in a little better order. Now, Mr Keene.”
Old Culpepper slunk away as I proceeded to give the information, and the captain now asked the carpenter if the pinnace was sufficiently repaired.
“In a few minutes, sir,” was the reply.
“Mr Hippesley, you must, then, send forty hands on board the prize to repair her damages, as far as we can. Mr Weymss must remain on board.”
In the meantime the young officer had been taken down below to the surgeon, who had now some leisure to attend to him. He was soon restored, and the surgeon expressed his opinion that it would be possible to save his arm. I went down to see him, and I gave him my hammock to sleep in for the present, and as soon as he was comfortably arranged under the half-deck I returned to the quarter-deck, and made myself as useful as I could, for we had plenty to do on board of our own frigate, knotting and splicing, having only made temporary repairs.
It was now dawn of day, and very soon afterwards broad daylight. The men were ordered aft with the buckets, and the decks, which were smeared and black with powder and the blood of the wounded, were washed down. That we were all very tired I hardly need say, but it was not yet time for repose; the magazines had been secured and the fires lighted.
Another boat, with the carpenter and assistant-surgeon, had been sent on board the prize to remedy any serious damage and to assist in dressing the wounded. I was sent with the boat. Mr Weymss, the third lieutenant, had not been idle: jury-masts were in preparation, the decks had been cleared, the dead thrown overboard, and the wounded taken below.
On mustering the remainder of the Dort’s ship’s company, and calling over the muster-roll of the troops on board, we found that she had lost the captain, 2 lieutenants and 10 officers, 73 seamen and 61 soldiers, killed; and the first-lieutenant, 13 officers, and 137 wounded—147 killed and 151 wounded: total 298. She had received several shot between wind and water, and had a good deal of water in the hold: this was, however, soon remedied by the carpenter and his crew, and the frigate pumped out by the prisoners.
I returned on board of the Calliope with this intelligence to the captain, and found that the surgeon had just sent in the report of our own loss, which was, 1 officer and 17 men killed—master, 2 lieutenants, 2 midshipmen, and 47 wounded.
“Do you know who are the midshipmen wounded?” said the captain to me.
“I heard that Mr James was killed, sir, but not the names of those who are wounded; but I think one of them must be Mr Dott, or we certainly should have seen him about.”
“I should not be surprised,” replied the captain. “Sentry, ask who are the young gentlemen wounded.”
The sentry replied, “Mr Castles and Mr Dott.”
“Well,” replied the captain, “he’ll be in no more mischief for some time; I heard of his trick to the purser.”
As the captain was saying this, I perceived the piece of paper which the purser had brought up as his report of killed and wounded lying on the table with the other reports. It had, apparently, not been examined by the captain, but my eye caught it, and I observed, written in a shaking hand, “Pieces of beef, 10; ditto pork, 19; raisins, 17; marines, 10.” I could not help smiling.
“What are you amused with, Mr Keene, may I ask?” said the captain, rather gravely.
“I beg your pardon, sir, for venturing so in your presence,” replied I; “but it is Mr Culpepper’s report of killed and wounded;” which I then took up, and handed to the captain.
This proof of Mr Culpepper’s state of mind during the conflict was too much for even Captain Delmar, who laughed outright.
“The old fool,” muttered he.
“You may go now, Mr Keene. If breakfast is ready, tell Mr Hippesley to let the men have it as soon as possible.”
“Aye, aye, sir,” replied I, and bowing respectfully, I quitted the cabin; for I felt that Captain Delmar thought that he had not been quite so reserved towards me as he always wished to be.
As soon as I had given the captain’s orders, I went down to find out Tommy Dott. He was in his hammock, next to mine, in which I had put the young Dutch officer. Dott was wide awake, and, apparently, very feverish.
“Where are you hurt, Tommy?”
“I am sure I don’t know,” said he. “Get me some water, Keene.”
I got a pannikin of water, and he drank it.
“Don’t you know where you are hurt?”
“I believe it’s my side—somewhere about the body, I know; but I’m so stiff all over, that I can’t tell exactly where. Something hit me, and I fell right down the hatchway; that’s all I know about it until I found myself in my hammock.”
“Well, at all events, you won’t be punished now for dropping the quid into Mr Culpepper’s mouth.”
“No,” replied Tommy, with a smile, in spite of his pain; “but I would have played him a better trick than that if I had had any idea that we should have been so soon in action. I wish I could turn round, Keene—I think I should be easier.”
I turned poor Tommy in his hammock, and then left him. I looked at the son of the Dutch captain—he was slumbering; he was a very slight youth, with very beautiful, but very feminine features. I felt a kindness towards him, poor fellow; for he had lost his father, and he was about to pass his best years in prison. But the boatswain’s mates piped to breakfast, and I hastened down into the berth to get my share of the cocoa.
As soon as the men had finished their breakfast, the hands were again turned up, the lower deck cleared and washed, new sails bent and the guns properly secured; screens were put up round the half-deck where the wounded were in their beds. The dead were brought up and sewed up in their hammocks, laid out on gratings, and covered with the ensign and union jack, preparatory to their being committed to the deep. Another party was sent to assist on board of the prize, and the prisoners were brought on board, and put down in the fore-hold, which had been cleared for their reception.
By noon everything was so far ready that we were enabled to take the prize in tow, and make sail on the Calliope, after which the men, who were exhausted, went to dinner, and were permitted to sleep during the remainder of the day until the evening, when the ship’s company was ordered up, and the dead were committed to the deep blue sea with the usual ceremonies.
The breeze was steady but the water was smooth during the night, and glad I was to throw myself on one of the lockers in the midshipmen’s berth, after so many hours of excitement. I slept till four in the morning, and finding the planks not quite so soft as they might be, I then turned into the hammock of the midshipman of the morning watch, and remained till six hells, when Bob Cross came down and told me that the captain would soon be on deck.
“Well, Cross,” said I, as I came on deck and went aft to look at the prize in tow, “this is a nice business, and our captain will gain a great deal of credit.”
“And he deserves it, Master Keene,” replied Cross: “as I said before, I never had an idea that he could handle his ship so well—no, nor none of the ship’s company. We all thought Mr Hippesley the best officer of the two, but we have found out our mistake. The fact is, Mr Keene, Captain Delmar wraps himself an in his dignity like a cloak, and there’s no making him out, till circumstances oblige him to take it off.”
“That’s very true, Bob,” replied I: “it is only this very morning that he laughed himself, and I laughed also, and he pulled up immediately afterwards, twice as stiff to me as before.”
I then told Bob of Mr Culpepper’s report, which amused him very much.
“I am sure that he is pleased with you, Mr Keene, and I must say that you were very useful and very active.”
“Do you know that the carpenter says that we have received injuries that cannot be well repaired without the ship going into dock, and I should not be surprised if we were to be sent home, if the survey confirms his report. I hope we shall; I am tired of the West Indies, and I should like to see my mother; we have a nice breeze now, and we are two points free. If it lasts, we shall be at Jamaica in a fortnight or less.”
The captain coming on deck put an end to our conversation.
Before night the prize had got up jury-masts, and sail set upon them, and we went through the water more rapidly. In ten days we arrived at Port Royal with our prize. The captain went on shore, and what was still more agreeable, we got rid of all our prisoners and wounded men. A survey, in consequence of the carpenter’s report was held upon the Calliope, and the result was, she was ordered home to be repaired. The Dort was commissioned by the admiral, and Mr Hippesley received an acting order to the sloop of war, which had become vacant by the commander of her being promoted into the Dort, which was now christened the Curaçao.
In ten days after our arrival we were ready, and made sail for Old England. Tommy Dott and the second lieutenant remained on board, and were both convalescent before we entered the Channel. Tommy Dott’s wound, by the bye, was a splinter in the back, added to severe bruises from tumbling down the hatchway.
Captain Delmar had shown great kindness to the son of the Dutch captain and he did not send him on shore with the rest of the prisoners, but permitted him to remain, and come home in the Calliope. He recovered slowly, but was soon out of danger, and was walking about with his arm in a sling long before we arrived in England. It appeared to me that, during the passage home, old Culpepper was not so much in the good graces of Captain Delmar as he used to be; he was, however, more obsequious than ever. We had a fine run home, and in seven weeks from our leaving Port Royal, we dropped our anchor at Spithead.
I may have been wrung, but it certainly did appear to me that as we neared the coast of England, the behaviour of Captain Delmar was more reserved to me (I may say it was harsher) than ever it had been before. Hurt at treatment which I felt I did not deserve, I tried to analyse the cause as I walked up and down the deck, and at last I decided that his pride was again alarmed. On the one hand he was returning to his own country, to meet with his aristocratical connections, and on the other he was reminded of my mother, and his mésalliance with her—if such a term can be used to a woman who had sacrificed herself to one above her in rank. At all events, I was the result of that connection, and I presumed that he was ashamed of it, and consequently kept me at a distance, and checked his feelings towards me. Perhaps he thought that my mother might be induced to disclose to me that which I had under his own hand-writing, and wore next my heart; or he might consider I was no longer a boy, but a tall young man, and one who might be induced to claim his protection. Such were my reflections, and my resolutions were taken accordingly—I wanted no Bob Cross to counsel me now.
When the captain left the ship, I made no request, as did the other midshipmen, for leave to see my friends; nor even when he returned on board, which he did several times after the ship had gone into harbour, and was stripping, preparatory to being docked. One thing, however, gave me great satisfaction, which was, that when the despatch which we brought home was published, I found my name honourably mentioned in conjunction with other officers, and but three midshipmen were named.
When the Calliope went into dock the report of the dockyard was very unfavourable. She required a thorough repair which would take some months. She was therefore ordered to be paid off. In the mean time the captain had gone to London. During his sojourn at Portsmouth I had never spoken to him, except on duty, and he had left me without a word of explanation as to his intentions towards me. As soon, however, as the order came down for paying off the ship, I received a letter from him, very cold and stiff, stating that I might, if I pleased, join any other ship, and he would recommend me to the captain; or I might remain on the books of the guard-ship, and wait until he commissioned another vessel, when he would be happy to take me with him.
My reply was immediate. I thanked him for his kindness, and hoped I might remain on board the guard-ship until he took the command of another vessel, as I did not wish to sail with any other captain. I had been brought forward by him in the service, and preferred waiting for months rather than lose his kind protection.
The only reply to my letter was an order from the Admiralty, for me to be discharged into the guard-ship when the Calliope was paid off.
I hardly need say that I had written and received letters from my mother, who was delighted at my name being mentioned in the despatches; but I will defer family news till the proper opportunity, as I must first tell all that occurred in the Calliope before she was paid off.
The reader will recollect that the son of the Dutch captain, whose name was Vangilt, had been permitted to come home in the ship, instead of being sent to prison. He and I were very intimate and when I discovered that he was the cousin of Minnie Vanderwelt, I became more partial to him. He was very melancholy during the passage home; how, indeed, could he be otherwise, with the prospect of being a prisoner during the remainder of the war? and he often expressed his feelings on the subject.
“Could you not escape?” said I, one evening.
“I fear not,” replied he. “If once out of prison, I have no doubt but that I could get a conveyance over the Channel by means of the smugglers; indeed, I have connections in England who would assist me.”
When Captain Delmar went away to town, he had quite forgotten the poor fellow, and Mr Weymss, who was the commanding officer, did not make any special report of him as he thought he might defer it till the last moment, as every day out of prison would be so much gained by young Vangilt, who was a general favourite.
In this instance, my regard for the young man made me quite forget my duty as an officer, and the Articles of War. I knew that I was about to do wrong; but I considered that, with so many thousand prisoners which we had in England, one more or less could be of no consequence, and I set to work to see if I could not effect his escape.
After much cogitation, I found I could do nothing without Bob Cross and I consulted with him. Bob shook his head, and said it was, he believed, hanging matter; but, after all, it was a pity that such a nice lad should be peeping between iron bars. “Besides,” continued he, “he lost his father in the action, and he ought not to lose his liberty also. Well, Mr Keene, show me how I can help you.”
“Why, Bob there’s a very pretty little girl, who very often comes alongside with the old woman, and you go down into the boat and talk with her.”
“Yes, sir,” replied Bob, “that’s the little girl I told you of, that used to repeat her fables on my knee. The fact is, I hope to splice her some of these days. It’s her mother who is with her, and she will not let her come on board to mix with the other women, because she is good and modest; too good for me, I’m afraid, in one sense of the word.”
“How do you mean Bob?”
“Why, sir, when I first knew her, she and her mother were living upon what they could earn, for the father was killed in action many years ago, and I used to help them as far as I could; but now I find that, although they are not changed, things are, most confoundedly. Her uncle lost his wife; he is considered a rich man, and being stone blind, and having no one to take care of him after his wife’s death, he sent for this girl and her mother to keep his house and he is very fond of the girl, and declares that he will leave her all his money, and that she shall marry well. Now, sir, if she was to marry me, a petty officer only, it would not be considered that she married well; so you see, sir, there’s a hitch.”
“Who and what was he?”
“He was a smuggler, sir, and a very successful one; he has six or seven houses, all his own property besides the one he lives in himself. He lives about a quarter of a mile out of Gosport. I know all about him, although I have never seen him. Soon after he left off smuggling, he lost his eyesight, and, somehow or another, he considered it was a judgment upon him—at least his wife, who had joined the Ranters, persuaded him so—and so he took a religious turn, and now he does nothing but pray, and call himself a poor blind sinner.”
“Well, Bob, but I do not see why you should give up the girl.”
“No, sir; nor will she or her mother give me up. I could marry her to-morrow without his consent, but I do not like to do her that injury.”
“He is stone-blind, you say?”
“Yes, sir.”
“We’ll talk your affair over another time. What I want at present is, to help this poor young Vangilt to escape. He says, that if once clear, the smugglers would put him on the other side of the water. Now, it appears to me that it would be very easy for him to get out of the ship unperceived, if he were dressed in woman’s clothes, so many women are going and coming all day long.”
“Very true, sir, especially on pay-day, when nobody keeps any look-out at all. I see now, you want some of Mary’s clothes for him; they would fit very well.”
