Mr Midshipman Easy (42 page)

Mr Jones had long been carried down below, severed in two with a round shot—but a man leaped into the chains, and lowering down the lead sounded in seven fathoms.

“Then I suspect he will give us more trouble yet,” observed Captain Wilson; and so indeed it proved, for the Russian captain, in reply to the second lieutenant, had told him in English, “that he would answer that question with his broadside,” and before the boat was dropped astern, he had warped round with the springs on his cable, and had recommenced his fire upon the
Aurora.

Captain Wilson made sail upon his ship, and sailed round and round the anchored vessel, so as to give her two broadsides to her one, and from the slowness with which she worked at her springs upon her cables, it was evident that she must be now very weak-handed. Still the pertinacity and decided courage of the Russian captain convinced Captain Wilson, that, in all probability, he would sink at his anchor before he would haul down his colours; and not only would he lose more of the
Aurora's
men, but also the Russian vessel, without he took a more decided step. Captain Wilson, therefore, resolved to try her by the board. Having poured in a raking fire, he stood off for a few moments, during which he called the officers and men on deck, and stated his intention. He then went about and himself conning the
Aurora,
ran her on board the Russian, pouring in his reserved broadside as the vessels came into collision, and heading his men as they leaped on the enemy's decks.

Although, as Captain Wilson had imagined, the Russian frigate had not many men to oppose to the
Aurora‘
s, the deck was obstinately defended, the voice and the arm of the Russian captain were to be heard and seen everywhere, and his men, encouraged by him, were cut down by numbers where they stood.

Our hero, who had the good fortune to be still unhurt, was for a little while close to Captain Wilson when he boarded, and was about to oppose his unequal force against that of the Russian captain, when he was pulled back by the collar by Mr Hawkins, the chaplain, who rushed in advance with a sabre in his hand. The opponents were well matched, and it may be said that, with little interruption, a hand-to-hand conflict ensued, for the moon lighted up the scene of carnage, and they were well able to distinguish each other's faces. At last, the chaplain's sword broke: he rushed in, drove the hilt into his antagonist's face, closed with him, and they both fell down the hatchway together. After this, the deck was gained, or rather cleared, by the crew of the
Aurora,
for few could be said to have resisted, and in a minute or two the frigate was in their possession. The chaplain and the Russian captain were hoisted up, still clinging to each other, both senseless from the fall, but neither of them dead, although bleeding from several wounds.

As soon as the main deck had been cleared, Captain Wilson ordered the hatches to be put on, and left a party on board while he hastened to attend to the condition of his own ship and ship's company.

It was daylight before anything like order had been restored to the decks of the
Aurora;
the water was still smooth, and instead of letting go her own anchor, she had hung on with a hawser to the prize, but her sails had been furled, her decks cleared, guns secured, and the buckets were dashing away the blood from her planks and the carriages of the guns, when the sun rose and shone upon them. The numerous wounded had, by this time, been put into their hammocks, although there were still one or two cases of amputation to be performed.

The carpenter had repaired all shot-holes under or too near to the water-line, and then had proceeded to sound the well of the prize; but although her upper works had been dreadfully shattered, there was no reason to suppose that she had received any serious injury below, and therefore the hatches still remained on, although a few hands were put to the pumps to try if she made any water. It was not until the
Aurora
presented a more cheerful appearance that Captain Wilson went over to the other ship, whose deck, now that the light of heaven enabled them to witness all the horrors even to minuteness, presented a shocking spectacle of blood and carnage. Body after body was thrown over; the wounded were supplied with water and such assistance as could be rendered until the surgeons could attend them; the hatches were then taken off, and the remainder of her crew ordered on deck; about two hundred obeyed the summons, but the lower deck was as crowded with killed and wounded as was the upper. For the present the prisoners were handed over down into the fore-hold of the
Aurora,
which had been prepared for their reception, and the work of separation of the dead from the living then underwent. After this, such repairs as were immediately necessary were made, and a portion of the
Aurora'
s crew, under the orders of the second lieutenant, were sent on board to take charge of her. It was not till the evening of the day after this night conflict that the
Aurora
was in a situation to make sail. All hands were then sent on board of the
Trident,
for such was the name of the Russian frigate, to fit her out as soon as possible. Before morning,—for there was no relaxation from their fatigue, nor was there any wish for it,—all was completed, and the two frigates, although in a shattered condition, were prepared to meet any common conflict with the elements. The
Aurora
made sail with the
Trident
in tow; the hammocks were allowed to be taken down, and the watch below permitted to repose.

In this murderous conflict the
Trident
had more than two hundred men killed and wounded. The
Aurora‘
s loss had not been so great, but still it was severe, having lost sixty-five men and officers. Among the fallen there were Mr Jones, the master, the third lieutenant Mr Arkwright, and two midshipmen killed. Mr Pottyfar, the first lieutenant, severely wounded at the commencement of the action. Martin the master's mate, and Gascoigne, the first mortally, and the second badly, wounded. Our hero had also received a slight cutlass wound, which obliged him to wear his arm, for a short time, in a sling.

Among the ship's company who were wounded was Mesty; he had been hurt with a splinter before the
Trident
was taken by the board, but had remained on deck, and had followed our hero, watching over him and protecting him as a father. He had done even more, for he had with Jack thrown himself before Captain Wilson, at a time that he had received such a blow with the flat of a sword as to stun him, and bring him down on his knee. And Jack had taken good care that Captain Wilson should not be ignorant, as he really would have been, of this timely service on the part of Mesty, who certainly, although with a great deal of
‘sang froid'
in his composition when in repose, was a fiend incarnate when his blood was up.

“But you must have been with Mesty,” observed Captain Wilson, “when he did me the service.”

“I was with him, sir,” replied Jack, with great modesty; “but was of very little service.”

“How is your friend Gascoigne this evening?”

“Oh, not very bad, sir—he wants a glass of grog.”

“And Mr Martin?”

Jack shook his head.

“Why, the surgeon thinks he will do well.”

“Yes, sir, and so I told Martin; but he said that it was very well to give him hope—but that he thought otherwise.”

“You must manage him, Mr Easy; tell him he is sure of his promotion.”

“I have, sir, but he won't believe it. He never will believe it till he has his commission signed. I really think that an acting order would do more than the doctor can.”

“Well, Mr Easy, he shall have one to-morrow morning. Have you seen Mr Pottyfar? he, I am afraid, is very bad.”

“Very bad, sir; and they say is worse every day, and yet his wound is healthy, and ought to be doing well.”

Such was the conversation between Jack and his captain, as they sat at breakfast on the third morning after the action.

The next day Easy took down an acting order for Martin, and put it into his hands. The mate read it over as he lay bandaged in his hammock.

“It's only an acting order, Jack,” said he; “it may not be confirmed.”

Jack swore, by all the articles of war, that it would be; but Martin replied that he was sure it never would.

“No, no,” said the mate, “I knew very well that I never should be made. If it is not confirmed, I may live; but if it is, I am sure to die.”

Every one that went to Martin's hammock wished him joy of his promotion; but six days after the action, poor Martin's remains were consigned to the deep.

The next person who followed him was Mr Pottyfar, the-first lieutenant, who had contrived, wounded as he was, to reach a packet of the universal medicine, and had taken so many bottles before he was found out, that he was one morning found dead in his bed, with more than two dozen empty phials under his pillow, and by the side of his mattress. He was not buried with his hands in his pockets, but when sewed up in his hammock, they were, at all events, laid in the right position.

IN THREE weeks the
Aurora,
with her prize in tow, arrived at Malta. The wounded were sent to the hospital, and the gallant Russian captain recovered from his wounds about the same time as Mr Hawkins, the chaplain.

Jack, who constantly called to see the chaplain, had a great deal to do to console him. He would shake his hands as he lay in his bed, exclaiming against himself. “Oh,” would he say, “the spirit is willing, but the flesh is weak. That I, a man of God, as they term me, who ought to have been down with the surgeons, whispering comfort to the desponding, should have gone on deck (but I could not help it), and have mixed in such a scene of slaughter. What will become of me?”

Jack attempted to console him by pointing out, that not only chaplains, but bishops, have been known to fight in armour from time immemorial. But Mr Hawkins's recovery was long doubtful, from the agitation of his mind. When he was able to walk, Jack introduced to him the Russian captain, who was also just out of his bed.

“I am most happy to embrace so gallant an officer,” said the Russian, who recognised his antagonist, throwing his arms round the chaplain, and giving him a kiss on both cheeks. “What is his rank?” continued he, addressing himself to Jack, who replied, very quietly, “that he was the ship's padre.”

“The padre!” replied the captain, with surprise, as Hawkins turned away with confusion. “The padre—par exemple! Well, I always had a great respect for the church. Pray, sir,” said he, turning to Easy, “do your padres always head your boarders?”

“Always, sir,” replied Jack; “it's a rule of the service—and the duty of a padre to show the men the way to heaven. It's our ninety-ninth article of war.”

“You are a fighting nation,” replied the Russian, bowing to Hawkins, and continuing his walk, not exactly pleased that he had been floored by a parson.

Mr Hawkins continued very disconsolate for some time; he then invalided, and applied himself to his duties on shore, where he would not be exposed to such temptations from his former habits.

As the
Aurora,
when she was last at Malta, had nearly exhausted the dockyard for her repairs, she was even longer fitting out this time, during which Captain Wilson's despatches had been received by the admiral, and had been acknowledged by a brig sent to Malta. The admiral, in reply, after complimenting him upon his gallantry and success, desired that, as soon as he was ready, he should proceed to Palermo with communications of importance to the authorities, and having remained there for an answer, was again to return to Malta to pick up such of his men as might be fit to leave the hospital, and then join the Toulon fleet. This intelligence was soon known to our hero, who was in ecstasies at the idea of again seeing Agnes and her brothers. Once more the
Aurora
sailed away from the high-crowned rocks of Valette, and with a fine breeze dashed through the deep blue waves.

But towards the evening the breeze increased, and they were under double-reefed topsails. On the second day they made the coast of Sicily, not far from where Easy and Gascoigne had been driven on shore; the weather was then more moderate, and the sea had, to a great degree, subsided. They therefore stood in close to the coast, as they had not a leading wind to Palermo. As they stood in, the glasses, as usual, were directed to land; observing the villas with which the hills and valleys were studded, with their white fronts embowered in orange groves.

“What is that, Gascoigne,” said Easy, “under that precipice?—it looks like a vessel.”

Gascoigne turned his glass in the direction—“Yes, it is a vessel on the rocks: by her prow she looks like a galley.”

“It is a galley, sir—one of the row galleys—I can make out her bank of oars,” observed the signal-man.

This was reported to Captain Wilson, who also examined her.

“She is on the rocks, certainly,” observed he; “and I think I see people on board. Keep her away a point, quarter-master.”

The
Aurora
was now steered right for the vessel, and in the course of an hour was not more than a mile from her. Their suppositions were correct—it was one of the Sicilian government galleys bilged on the rocks, and they now perceived that there were people on board of her, making signals with their shirts and pieces of linen.

“They must be the galley-slaves; for I perceive that they do not one of them change their positions: the galley must have been abandoned by their officers and seamen, and the slaves left to perish.”

“That's very hard,” observed Jack to Gascoigne; “they were condemned to the galleys, but not to death.”

“They will not have much mercy from the waves,” replied Gascoigne; “they will all be in kingdom come to-morrow morning, if the breeze comes more on the land. We have already come up two points this forenoon.”