Afloat and Ashore (20 page)

We had a long passage out, the wind hanging to the eastward near three
weeks. At length we got moderate southerly breezes, and began to
travel on our course. Twenty-four hours after we had got the fair
wind, I had the morning watch, and made, as the day dawned, a sail
directly abeam of us, to windward, about three leagues distant, or
just hull down. I went into the main-top, and examined her with a
glass. She was a ship, seemingly of about our own size, and carrying
everything that would draw. I did not send word below until it was
broad daylight, or for near half an hour; and in all that time her
bearings did not vary any perceptible distance.

Just as the sun rose, the captain and chief-mate made their appearance
on deck. At first they agreed in supposing the stranger a stray
English West-Indiaman, bound home; for, at that time, few merchant
vessels were met at sea that were not English or American. The former
usually sailed in convoys, however; and the captain accounted for the
circumstance that this was not thus protected, by the fact of her
sailing so fast. She might be a letter-of-marque, like ourselves, and
vessels of that character did not take convoy. As the two vessels lay
exactly abeam of each other, with square yards, it was not easy to
judge of the sparring of the stranger, except by means of his
masts. Marble, judging by the appearance of his topsails, began to
think our neighbour might be a Frenchman, he had so much hoist to the
sails. After some conversation on the subject, the captain ordered me
to brace forward the yards, as far as our studding-sails would allow,
and to luff nearer to the stranger. While the ship was thus changing
her course, the day advanced, and our crew got their breakfast.

As a matter of course, the strange ship, which kept on the same line
of sailing as before, drew ahead of us a little, while we neared her
sensibly. In the course of three hours we were within a league of her,
but well on her lee-quarter. Marble now unhesitatingly pronounced her
to be a Frenchman, there being no such thing as mistaking the
sails. To suppose an Englishman would go to sea with such triangles of
royals, he held to be entirely out of the question; and then he
referred to me to know if I did not remember the brig "we had licked
in the West Indies, last v'y'ge, which had just such r'yals as the
chap up there to windward?" I could see the resemblance, certainly,
and had remarked the same peculiarity in the few French vessels I had
seen.

Under all the circumstances, Captain Williams determined to get on the
weather-quarter of our neighbour, and take a still nearer look at
him. That he was armed, we could see already; and, as near as we could
make out, he carried twelve guns, or just two more than we did
ourselves. All this was encouraging; sufficiently so, at least, to
induce us to make a much closer examination than we had yet done.

It took two more hours to bring the Crisis, fast as she sailed, on the
weather-quarter of her neighbour, distant about a mile. Here our
observations were much more to the purpose, and even Captain Williams
pronounced the stranger to be a Frenchman, "and, no doubt, a
letter-of-marque, like ourselves." He had just uttered these words,
when we saw the other vessel's studding-sails coming down her royals
and top-gallant-sails clewing up, and all the usual signs of her
stripping for a fight. We had set our ensign early in the day, but, as
yet, had got no answering symbol of nationality from the chase. As
soon as she had taken in all her light canvass, however, she clewed up
her courses, fired a gun to windward, and hoisted the French
tri-color
, the most graceful flag among the emblems of
Christendom, but one that has been as remarkably unsuccessful in the
deeds it has witnessed on the high seas, as it has been remarkable for
the reverse on land. The French have not been wanting in excellent
sailors—gallant seamen, too; but the results of their exploits afloat
have ever borne a singular disproportion to the means employed—a few
occasional exceptions just going to prove that the causes have been of
a character as peculiar, as these results have, in nearly all ages,
been uniform. I have heard the want of success in maritime exploits,
among the French, attributed to a want of sympathy, in the nation,
with maritime things. Others, again, have supposed that the narrow
system of preferring birth to merit, which pervaded the whole economy
of the French marine, as well as of its army, previously to the
revolution, could not fail to destroy the former, inasmuch as a man of
family would not consent to undergo the toil and hardships that are
unavoidable to the training of the true seaman. This last reason,
however, can scarcely be the true one, as the young English noble has
often made the most successful naval officer; and the marine of
France, in 1798, had surely every opportunity of perfecting itself, by
downright practice, uninjured by favouritism, as that of America. For
myself, though I have now reflected on the subject for years, I can
come to no other conclusion than that national character has some very
important agency—or, perhaps, it might be safer to say,
has
had some very important agency—through some cause or other, in
disqualifying France from becoming a great naval power, in the sense
of skill; in that of mere force, so great a nation must always be
formidable. Now she sends her princes to sea, however, we may look for
different results. Notwithstanding the fact that an Englishman, or an
American, rarely went alongside of a Frenchman, in 1798, without a
strong moral assurance of victory, he was sometimes disappointed.
There was no lack of courage in their enemies, and it occasionally
happened that there was no lack of skill. Every manifestation that the
experience of our captain could detect, went to show that we had
fallen in with one of these exceptions. As we drew nearer to our
enemy, we perceived that he was acting like a seaman. His sails had
been furled without haste or confusion; an infallible evidence of
coolness and discipline when done on the eve of battle, and signs that
the watchful seaman, on such occasions, usually notes as unerring
indications of the sort of struggle that awaits him. It was
consequently understood, among us on the quarter-deck, that we were
likely to have a warm day's work of it. Nevertheless, we had gone too
far to retreat without an effort, and we began, in our turn, to
shorten sail, in readiness for the combat. Marble was a prince of a
fellow, when it came to anything serious. I never saw him shorten sail
as coolly and readily as he did that very day. We had everything ready
in ten minutes after we began.

It was rare, indeed, to see two letters-of-marque set-to as coolly,
and as scientifically as were the facts with the Crisis and
la Dame
de Nantes;
for so, as we afterwards ascertained, was our
antagonist called. Neither party aimed at any great advantage by
manoeuvring; but we came up alongside of "The Lady," as our men
subsequently nick-named the Frenchman, the two vessels delivering
their broadsides nearly at the same instant. I was stationed on the
forecastle, in charge of the head-sheets, with orders to attend
generally to the braces and the rigging, using a musket in moments
that were not otherwise employed. Away went both my jib-sheet blocks
at the beginning, giving me a very pretty job from the outset. This
was but the commencement of trouble; for, during the two hours and a
half that we lay battering
la Dame de Nantes
, and she lay
battering us, I had really so much to attend to in the way of reeving,
knotting, splicing, and turning in afresh, that I had scarcely a
minute to look about me, in order to ascertain how the day was
going. I fired my musket but twice. The glimpses I did manage to take
were far from satisfactory, however; several of our people being
killed or wounded, one gun fairly crippled by a shot, and our rigging
in a sad plight. The only thing encourag'ng was Neb's shout, the
fellow making it a point to roar almost as loud as his gun, at each
discharge.

It was evident from the first that the Frenchman had nearly twice as
many men as we carried. This rendered any attempt at boarding
imprudent, and, in the way of pounding, our prospects were by no means
flattering. At length I heard a rushing sound over my head, and,
looking up, I saw that the main-top-mast, with the yards and sails,
had come down on the fore-braces, and might shortly be expected on
deck. At this point, Captain Williams ordered all hands from the guns
to clear the wreck. At the same instant, our antagonist, with a degree
of complaisance that I could have hugged him for, ceased firing
also. Both sides seemed to think it was very foolish for two
merchantmen to lie within a cable's length of each other, trying which
could do the other the most harm; and both sides set about the, by
this time, very necessary duty of repairing damages. While this was
going on, the men at the wheel, by a species of instinctive caution,
did their whole duty. The Crisis luffed all she was able, while
la
Dame de Nantes
edged away all she very conveniently could, placing
more than a mile of blue water between the two vessels, before we, who
were at work aloft, were aware they were so decidedly running on
diverging lines.

It was night before we got our wreck clear; and then we had to look
about us, to get out spare spars, fit them, rig them, point them, and
sway them aloft. The last operation, however, was deferred until
morning. As it was, the day's work had been hard, and the people
really wanted rest. Rest was granted them at eight o'clock; at which
hour, our late antagonist was visible about a league distant, the
darkness beginning to envelope her. In the morning the horizon was
clear, owing to the repulsion which existed in so much force between
the two vessels. It was not our business to trouble ourselves about
the fate of our adversary, but to take heed of our own. That morning
we go' up our spars, crossed the yards, and made sail again. We had
several days' work in repairing all our damages; but, happening to be
found for a long voyage, and well found, too, by the end of a week the
Crisis was in as good order as if we had not fought a battle. As for
the combat, it was one of those in which either side might claim the
victory, or not, as it suited tastes. We had very ingenious excuses
for our failure, however; and I make no doubt the French were just as
ready, in this way, as we were ourselves.

Our loss in this engagement amounted to two men killed outright, and
to seven wounded, two of whom died within a few days. The remaining
wounded all recovered, though the second-mate, who was one of them, I
believe never got to be again the man he had been. A canister-shot
lodged near his hip, and the creature we had on board as a surgeon was
not the hero to extract it. In that day, the country was not so very
well provided with medical men on the land, as to spare many good ones
to the sea. In the new navy, it was much the fashion to say, "if you
want a leg amputated, send for the carpenter; he
does
know how
to use a saw, while it is questionable whether the doctor knows how to
use anything." Times, however, are greatly altered in this respect;
the gentlemen who now compose this branch of the service being not
only worthy of commendation for their skill and services, but worthy
of the graduated rank which I see they are just now asking of the
justice of their country, and which, as that country ordinarily
administers justice, I am much afraid they will ask in vain.

"If we
Cannot defend our own door from the dog,
Let us be worried; and our nation lose
The name of hardiness, and policy."
Henry V.

The combat between the Crisis and
la Dame de Nantes
took place
in 42.37'.12" north latitude, and 34.16'.43" west longitude, from
Greenwich. This was very near the centre of the northern Atlantic, and
gave us ample time to get our ship in good condition before we drew in
with the land. Shortly after the affair, the wind came out light at
northeast, forcing us down nearer to the Bay of Biscay than was at all
convenient, when bound to London. The weather grew foggy, too, which
is not usual on the coast of Europe, with the wind at east, and the
nights dark. Just a fortnight after the action, I was awakened early
one morning by a rough shake of the shoulder from Marble, who had the
watch, but who was calling me at least an hour before the time. "Bear
a hand and turn out," he said; "I want you on deck, Mr. Wallingford."
I obeyed, of course, and soon stood in the presence of the chief-mate,
rubbing my eyes diligently, as if they had to be opened by friction.

It was just six bells, or seven o'clock, and one of the watch was on
the point of making the bell proclaim as much, when Mr. Marble ordered
him not to strike the hour. The weather was thick, or rather foggy,
and the wind light, with very little sea going. All this I had time to
notice, to listen to the unusual order about the bell, and to gape
twice, before the male turned to me. He seized my arm, carried me on
the lee side of the quarter-deck, shook his finger at a vacant spot in
the fog, and said—

"Miles, my boy, down yonder, within half a mile of this very spot, is
our friend the Frenchman!"

"How is it possible you can know that, Mr. Marble?" I demanded in
surprise.

"Because I have seen him, with these two good-looking eyes of
mine. This fog opens and shuts like a playhouse-curtain, and I got a
peep at the chap, about ten minutes since. It was a short look, but it
was a sure one; I would swear to the fellow in any admiralty court in
Christendom."

"And what do you intend to do, Mr. Marble? We found him a hard subject
in clear weather; what can we do with him in thick?"

"That depends on the old man; his very natur' is overlaid by what has
happened already, and I rather think he will be for a fresh
skrimmage"—Marble was an uneducated Kennebunk man, and by no means
particular about his English. "There'll be good picking in that French
gentleman, Master Miles, for those who come in at the beginning of the
plunder!"